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diff --git a/77231-0.txt b/77231-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea09aca --- /dev/null +++ b/77231-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9116 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77231 *** + + + + + The Trail of + The Golden Horn + + H. A. CODY + + + + +By H. A. CODY + + THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDEN HORN + THE KING’S ARROW + JESS OF THE REBEL TRAIL + GLEN OF THE HIGH NORTH + THE TOUCH OF ABNER + THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER + UNDER SEALED ORDERS + IF ANY MAN SIN + THE CHIEF OF THE RANGES + THE FOURTH WATCH + THE LONG PATROL + ROD OF THE LONE PATROL + THE FRONTIERSMAN + + + + + THE TRAIL OF + THE GOLDEN HORN + + BY + H. A. CODY + + McCLELLAND AND STEWART + PUBLISHERS : : TORONTO + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1923, + + BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY + + [Illustration] + + THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDEN HORN. III + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + 1 The Smokeless Cabin 9 + + 2 A Night Vision 17 + + 3 The _Tell-tale_ Lock 27 + + 4 To be Continued 37 + + 5 Face to Face 47 + + 6 Zell 57 + + 7 Terrors of the Night 67 + + 8 Hugo to the Rescue 76 + + 9 Stains on the Snow 84 + + 10 Lost 92 + + 11 Where Strength Counts 99 + + 12 Confession 109 + + 13 The Rush of Doom 118 + + 14 Life for Life 126 + + 15 The Truce of the Storm 136 + + 16 The Man of The Gap 145 + + 17 The Trapper Arrives 155 + + 18 A Cowardly Deed 166 + + 19 Anxious Waiting 176 + + 20 United Forces 186 + + 21 Helping Hands 194 + + 22 The Messenger 206 + + 23 Rejected 213 + + 24 The Wages of Sin 221 + + 25 Maintien le Droit 229 + + 26 The Night Struggle 241 + + 27 An Unfolded Record 251 + + 28 Waiting 261 + + 29 Good News 270 + + 30 His Message of Farewell 279 + + 31 Plans 287 + + + + +The Trail of the Golden Horn + + + + +THE TRAIL OF THE GOLDEN HORN + + + + +CHAPTER 1 + +The Smokeless Cabin + + +“No Smoke!” + +Hugo, the trapper, rasped forth these words upon the stinging air as he +paused abruptly upon the brow of a steep hill. He was puzzled, and he +rubbed the frost from his eyelids with his mittened right hand. Perhaps +he had not seen aright. But no, he had not been mistaken. There, close +to the river, stood the little cabin, nestling amidst a grove of young +firs and jack-pines. But no smoke poured from the pipe stuck up through +the roof. + +“Strange! strange!” Hugo muttered. “There should be smoke. Bill Haines +hasn’t moved overnight, that’s certain. Something must be wrong.” + +His eyes swept the landscape to right and left. Everywhere stretched +the vast wilderness of glistening snow, dark forests, and towering +mountains. That long white streak, winding like a serpent, was the +river, now frozen from bank to bank. From a few open places where the +current was exceptionally swift vapour rose like dense clouds of smoke. +Near one of these stood the cabin, for running water was a luxury in +the Yukon when winter gripped the land in its icy embrace. + +Hugo hated the river, and always kept as far away as possible. To him +it was a treacherous demon, and the great dark breathing-places seemed +like yawning mouths ever open for new victims. That curling vapour +appeared more sinister now than ever. He glanced again at the lonely +cabin. Why was there no smoke rising above its squat roof? Had Bill +Haines slipped while drawing water? Such a thing was not unlikely. But +what about his wife? Surely she would keep the fire burning for the +sake of herself and child. But had she gone, too, in attempting to +rescue her husband? + +For a few minutes Hugo stood there, his great form drawn to its full +height. His long beard, covered with frost, swept his breast. His keen +eyes peered out from beneath the big fur cap drawn well down over +ears and forehead. He resembled a patriarch of Hebrew days who had +stepped suddenly out upon one of nature’s mighty stages. The dark, +sombre trees formed a fitting background to the lonely figure, while +the valley below and the limitless region beyond made a magnificent +audience-chamber. But none witnessed the silent form upon the hill +save, perhaps, a few shy, furry creatures of the wild, and ghosts of +miners, prospectors, trappers and Indians, who once roamed the land and +made the Yukon River their chief highway of travel. + +Hugo, however, thought nothing of all this. His mind was agitated by +conflicting thoughts. He longed to be off and away upon the trail, +headed for the log abode of which he alone knew. But that smokeless +cabin down by the river fascinated him. + +“It’s none of my business,” he growled. “Bill Haines is nothing to me, +so why should I worry about him? And yet, I wonder--” + +He ceased abruptly, unslung a rope from his right shoulder, and +turned swiftly around. At his heels lay the small toboggan he had +been drawing, loaded with a couple of blankets, food, rifle, and a +large lynx he had taken from one of his snares. He looked at these +thoughtfully for a few seconds, and then reached for his rifle. This he +carefully examined to be sure that the magazine was full. Picking up +the dropped rope, he threw it again over his shoulder, and with rifle +in hand, he sped rapidly down to the valley below. The long narrow +snow-shoes creaked beneath his powerful strides, and the light snow +flew from their curved points like spray from a cutter’s bow. + +Reaching the forest, he threaded his way among the trees and came out +at length into the open space where stood the cabin. Here he stopped +and looked carefully around. Seeing nothing, he once more advanced, and +only slowed down when within a few yards from the building. He walked +warily now, listening intently for any sound from within. Hearing +nothing, he was about to place his ear close to the door when the faint +wail of a child arrested his attention. Presently the cry subsided to a +fretful whimper, and then all was still. + +Feeling certain now that something was seriously wrong, Hugo glanced +cautiously around. The snow near the cabin was beaten down hard, and +a well-worn trail led to the river. He looked off to the place where +the vapour was rising into the air, and shuddered. Why he did so he +could not tell. Then he lifted the rude latch, pushed open the door +and entered. The sun shining in through the window on the south side +of the building brightened the room. Hugo recalled the last time he +had been there, and the pleasant welcome he had received. How clean +and cosy the place was then, notwithstanding the meagre furniture and +the bare floor. But now what a change! Everything was in disorder, the +table overturned, the few rough, homemade chairs battered to pieces, +and broken dishes lying on all sides. What did it mean? He stared +around, greatly puzzled. + +“Mam-ma! Mam-ma!” + +The call came from a corner on the right. Turning quickly toward a bunk +against the wall, Hugo saw the movement of a gray four-point blanket. +Stepping forward, he stooped and beheld the face of a little child, +its cheeks wet with tears. Big blue eyes looked expectantly up, and +two small dimpled hands reached eagerly out, while a gurgle of delight +rippled from soft, rosy lips. Instantly it realized its mistake. +An expression of fear leaped into its eyes, the outstretched hands +dropped, and the happy gurgle gave place to a cry of fright. Hugo was +in despair. + +“Queer mess I’ve got into,” he muttered. “What am I to do with the kid? +Pity it hadn’t gone with its parents. I wonder what has happened to +them, anyway?” + +He looked around and noted more carefully the sad havoc which had +been wrought. He was sure now that a terrible tragedy had been +enacted there, either during the night or early that morning. Again +he shuddered, and realized for the first time how cold was the room. +In a few minutes he had a good fire burning in the sheet-iron heater, +which fortunately had escaped destruction. Then he searched for some +suitable food for the child. But not a scrap could he find--every +morsel had been taken from the house. Hugo uttered an angry oath +and registered a solemn vow. Going outside he was about to draw his +toboggan into the room when his eyes caught sight of peculiar marks +upon the beaten snow. That they were blood-stains he was certain, and +there were others on the trail leading to the river. + +Leaving the toboggan, and forgetting for a time the sobbing child, +Hugo walked slowly along, keeping his eyes fixed upon the narrow +path. At every step more stains appeared, which increased in number +and vividness as he neared the shore. Out upon the ice he moved, and +stopped only when close to the long, wide, yawning gulf. Here the river +was exposed to view like a great artery from which the flesh has been +torn. The water raced by like a mill-sluice, leaping forth from beneath +its icy covering upstream to dash out of sight with a swish and a swirl +half a mile or more farther down. Its murmur resembled the snarl of an +angry beast when suddenly surprised or cheated of its prey. And yet +Hugo felt certain that but a short time before it had been fed, when +two victims had been enwrapped in its cold, merciless embrace. And one +of them was a woman, whose little helpless child was now calling to her +from the lonely cabin--and calling in vain! + +And standing there, Hugo’s soul suddenly became charged with an intense +anger. Mingled with his hatred of the river was an overwhelming +revulsion at the foul crime which had been committed. And who were +the perpetrators? What reason could anyone have for committing such a +diabolical deed? Haines and his wife were quiet reserved people, given +to hospitality, who never refused a meal or a lodging for the night to +a passing traveller. During the summer Bill had rocked out gold from +the river bars, and in winter had cut wood for steamers plying between +Whitehorse and Dawson. That he made but a bare living Hugo was well +aware, and he had often wondered why he was content to remain in such a +lonely place. + +Hugo turned these things over in his mind as he walked slowly away from +the river. Reaching the cabin, he drew his toboggan into the building. +The fire had been doing good work and the room was warm. The child, +unable to cry more, was lying uncovered upon the blankets. It watched +Hugo’s every movement with wide, unblinking eyes. + +“Don’t be afraid, little chap,” the man said. “I won’t hurt you. I’m +going to give you something to eat. Maybe that will make you friendly. +I wonder how old it is, anyway,” he mused. “It can’t eat meat, that’s +certain. Liquids and soft food are the only thing for babies. Now, what +in time can I give it! Ah, I know. Just the thing.” + +He turned and walked over to the toboggan. Throwing aside the blankets, +he lifted a tin can, blackened from numerous campfires. This he placed +upon the stove, removed the cover and looked in. + +“Ptarmigan soup should be good for the little fellow,” he remarked. +“It’s mighty lucky I didn’t eat it all for breakfast. My! it’s hot +here.” + +He raised his hand as if to remove his fur cap, but suddenly desisted. +Then he stepped outside and looked carefully around. Seeing no one, he +went back into the cabin, took off his cap, and hung it upon one of +the legs of the overturned table. The head thus exposed was covered +with a wealth of hair, thickly streaked with gray. The startling and +outstanding feature, however, was one lock as white as snow, crowning +the right temple. This was not due to age nor to any outward cause, but +was evidently a family characteristic. Such a lock would have singled +out the owner in any gathering for special and curious attention. + +When the soup was warm enough, Hugo dipped out a portion into a tin cup +which he carried over to where the child was lying. + +“Come, little chap,” he began, “here’s something nice.” + +Forced by hunger the lad scrambled quickly to its knees, and drank +eagerly from the cup held to its lips. + +“More,” he demanded when the last drop had been drained. + +“Ho, ho, that’s good!” Hugo chuckled, as he went back to the stove and +dipped out another helping. “There’s nothing like ptarmigan soup for an +appetizer. I guess, my little man, you’re older than I thought.” + +When the child had been fed to its satisfaction, Hugo sat down upon +the edge of the bunk and gave himself up to serious thoughts. What was +he to do with the boy? That was the question which agitated his mind. +He could not keep him, that was certain. He must hand him over to +someone who knew more about children than he did. But where could he +take him? To whom could he turn for assistance? Swift Stream was out of +the question. Besides being too far away it was the last place where +he wanted to go. But what about Kynox? He did not want to go there, +either. But it was nearer than Swift Stream, and less dangerous. Yes, +it must be Kynox, and the sooner he got there the better. + +He was staring straight before him as he thus made up his mind. His +eyes were fixed upon the rough whip-sawn planks which formed the floor. +But he did not see anything in particular there. His thoughts were +far away, so the cabin and all that it contained were for the time +forgotten. + +At length he became partially aware of a peculiar glitter upon the +floor. The sun shining through the little window struck for a few +minutes upon the spot where his eyes were resting. Gradually his +interest became aroused. Something was there which caused that intense +sparkle. Perhaps it was only a portion of a broken dish which had +caught the sun’s ray. But, no, it could not be. A piece of ordinary +cup, saucer, or plate could not throw such a wonderful light. It was a +sparkle such as he had once seen flashing from a jewelled finger of a +woman of great wealth. He had never beheld the like since until now. +Only one thing he knew could produce such a radiant effect. + +Slipping from the bunk, he stepped quickly forward, dropped upon his +knees, and peered keenly down. What he saw there caused him to reach +swiftly out, seize and draw forth something wedged in a narrow crack +between two of the floor planks. As he clutched this with the fingers +of his trembling right hand, an exclamation of surprise burst from his +lips. + +It was a woman’s diamond ring! + + + + +CHAPTER 2 + +A Night Vision + + +For several minutes Hugo knelt there holding the ring in his right +hand. It was a delicate circlet, a fragile wisp of gold to contain such +an exquisite gem. What fair finger had it adorned? What eyes, looking +down upon it, had rivalled its sparkling beauty? What comely cheeks had +flushed in the joy of its possession? He felt sure that Mrs. Haines +had not worn it. What use would such an ornament have been to her in +that rude cabin? At any rate, he had never seen it upon her finger. Her +hands, he had noted, were rough and toil-worn. But had she once worn +it? Was it a precious keepsake, a memento of other and happier days? +Had it in any way figured in the terrible tragedy which had so recently +taken place? Why was it wedged in the crack between those two planks? +Why had it not been broken and crushed in the terrible struggle that +had ensued? + +These were some of the thoughts which surged through Hugo’s mind as he +stared hard at the ring. The value of the diamond he did not know. That +it was no ordinary stone he felt certain. How it gleamed and sparkled +as he held it to the sun. He turned it over and over in his fingers. He +was gradually becoming its slave. Its beauty was fascinating him; its +radiance was dazzling him. + +A sound from the bunk startled him. He glanced quickly and guiltily +around like one caught in a criminal deed. But it was only the child, +chuckling as it tried to grasp a narrow beam of sunshine which fell +athwart the blankets. With lightning rapidity Hugo thrust the ring +into an inside pocket of his jacket and sprang to his feet. He stepped +swiftly to the side of the bunk and glared down upon the child. Then a +harsh, mirthless laugh burst from his lips. The perspiration stood out +in beads upon his forehead. + +“Hugo, you’re a fool,” he growled. “What has come over you, anyway? No +more such nonsense.” + +He went to the door, opened it and looked out. The air cooled his hot +brow. He felt better, and more like himself. He was anxious now to +get away from that cabin. It was not good for him to be there--with +the ring and the child. The place was polluted. Innocent blood had +been shed in that room, and who could tell what might happen should he +stay much longer? He had always scoffed at the idea of ghosts. But he +did not wish to remain in that building overnight. He had a peculiar +creeping sensation whenever he thought of it. He was not afraid of +travellers who might call in passing. But he did have great respect +for the Mounted Police, the redoubtable guardians of the north, the +sleuth-hounds of the trails. Should they suddenly appear, he might find +the situation most embarrassing. Alone with the child, and with the +marks of a tragedy so evident, he might have difficulty in convincing +them of his innocency in the affair. And should the ring be discovered +upon his person, his position would be far from enviable. + +Hugo’s greatest fear, however, was of himself. He could not explain +the reason, but so long as he remained in that cabin he could not feel +responsible for his acts. A subtle influence seemed to pervade the +place which exerted upon him a magic effect. He had never experienced +the like before. He must get away at once. Out upon the trail, battling +against stern nature, he would surely regain his former self-mastery. + +Hugo was not long in getting ready for his departure. He wrapped up the +baby in a big fur-lined coat he found hanging on the wall. He hesitated +when he realised that it was necessary to cast aside the lynx to make +room for the lad upon the small toboggan. The pelt of the animal was +valuable, but he could not afford to take the time to remove it. In +fact, the lynx was of more use to him than the child. One he could sell +for good money, while the other--well, he would be fortunate if he +could give him away. + +He thought of this as he tucked in the wee fellow, placing extra +blankets about him to make sure that he would not be cold. According +to the law of the country he was entitled to all the rights and +privileges of the British Constitution. To take his life would be an +indictable offense, and the punishment death if found out. But he could +not be sold for money, and who would want him? Outside, someone might +adopt him, or he could be placed in an Orphans’ Home. But here on +the frontier of civilisation who would wish to be bothered with such +a helpless waif? The life of the lynx, on the other hand, was worth +nothing in the eyes of the law. Any one could take it with impunity. +But the animal could be sold for a fair price. What a paradox! A dead +lynx worth more than a priceless child! + +Hugo sighed as he picked up his rifle and drew the cord of the toboggan +over his shoulder. It was a problem too profound for him to solve. +Others would have to attend to that, if they so desired, while he +looked after the baby. Closing the cabin door, and turning his back +upon the river, he headed for the uplands. Although he had no watch, +yet he knew that it was past midday. The afternoon would be all too +short, so he must make the most of it. Kynox was over thirty miles +away, and a hard trail lay between. Under ordinary circumstances he +could make the journey by a long day’s march. But now he would be +forced to travel slower and more carefully, and to halt at times to +feed the child. + +Hugo made his way along the trail down which he had sped a few hours +before. Reaching the brow of the hill, he paused and looked back upon +the cabin. It had a new meaning to him now. How grim and desolate it +seemed. It was a building stained with human blood. Never again would +it breathe forth its warm and inviting welcome to weary travellers. +Soon word of the tragedy would be noised abroad. It would pass from man +to man. In towns and villages, in miners’ shacks, in Indian lodges, in +wood-cutters’ cabins, and in most remote recesses it would penetrate, +to be discussed with burning indignation and heart-thrilling interest. +The Mounted Police would arouse to swift and terrible action. They +would throw out their nets; they would scour the trails; they would +compass the world, if necessary, to bring the criminals to justice. +They had done it before; they would do it again. No one yet had escaped +their long and overwhelming grip. + +And what of the little cabin? It would be shunned, looked upon with +dread, a haunted abode. Oh, yes, Hugo was well aware how it would be. +He knew of several such places scattered over the country, once the +centres of life and activity, but now abandoned by the foot of man, +white and Indian alike. + +As he stood and rested, thinking of these things, something upon the +river attracted his attention. At first it appeared as a mere speck, +but it was moving. With breathless interest he strained his eyes +across the snowy waste. He knew what it was--a dog-team! Was it the +Police patrol? He shrank instinctively back, and unconsciously raised +his right hand as if to ward off some impending danger. A low growl, +almost like a curse, rumbled in his throat, as he turned and once more +continued his journey. + +His course now led inland, and in a few minutes the river was lost to +view. The trail for a time wound through a forest of young firs and +jack-pines, whose slender branches reached out like welcoming hands. He +felt at home here and breathed more freely. Then the way sloped to a +valley, and up a long wild meadow. + +It was a magnificent region through which he was travelling. To the +right rose great mountains, terrace above terrace, and terminating +in majestic summits far beyond the timber-line. These, however, were +surpassed by one towering peak far away in the distance. For years it +had been his special guide. Others might be lost to view, but not the +Golden Horn. It formed the subject of considerable speculation among +miners, prospectors, and trappers. Its summit had never been reached. +But daring adventurers who had scaled beyond the timber-line, solemnly +affirmed that it was the real Mount Ararat. Embedded in everlasting +snow and ice they had seen the timbers of a vessel of huge size and +marvellous design, which they declared to be the ruins of Noah’s ark. + +Others believed that in that massive pile would be found a great +mother-lode of precious gold. Its commanding peak, which from certain +points of view resembled a gigantic horn, caught and reflected the +brief winter sun in a glow of golden glory. To eager eyes and hopeful +hearts this was surely an outward sign of vast treasures within. But so +far it had only served as a landmark, a gleaming guide to hardy rovers +of the trails. + +With the Golden Horn ever before him, Hugo pressed steadily onward. At +times he glanced anxiously back, especially after he had crossed a lake +or a wild meadow where the view of the trail was unobstructed. Seeing +no one following, he always breathed a sigh of relief, and hurried on +his way. + +Darkness had already settled over the land when Hugo drew up at a +little shack crouching in a dense thicket of firs and pines. This was +one of his stopping-places in the large circle of his trapping region. +The single room contained a bunk, a sheet-iron heater, a rough table, a +block of wood for a seat, and a few traps. This abode was far from the +main line of travel, and no head but the owner’s had ever bent to pass +its low portal. + +Hugo paid careful attention to the child, looking after its welfare +to the best of his knowledge. It had been remarkably good during the +afternoon, and before it fell asleep upon the bunk it showed its +friendliness to its rescuer by chuckling gleefully, holding out its +hands, and kicking its feet in a lively manner. + +For the first time in years Hugo’s stern face relaxed. His eyes, +hard and defiant, assumed a softer expression. All unconsciously the +helpless child was exerting upon him a subtle influence; it was casting +about him a magic spell, and breathing into the coldness of his heart a +warm, stimulating glow. + +And when the little lad at length slept, Hugo sat by its side, gazing +straight before him, silent and unseeing. Occasionally he aroused to +replenish the fire, to snuff the single candle, to open the door to +peer into the night, and to listen for sounds which did not come. He +would then return to the bunk, to continue his watch and meditation. + +About midnight he wrapped himself up in a thick blanket, stretched +himself upon the floor near the heater, and in a few minutes was fast +asleep. He awoke with a start, and sat bolt upright. He looked toward +the bunk, and something there held him spellbound. The child, gently +whimpering, was surrounded by a soft, peculiar light such as he had +never seen before. Hugo wondered at this, for the candle was out and it +was not yet daylight. As he stared, striving to comprehend the meaning, +he saw the dim form of a woman bending tenderly over the child, her +hands touching the little face. An involuntary gasp of surprise escaped +his lips, and he rubbed his eyes to be sure that he was not dreaming. +When he looked again all was in darkness. The vision had disappeared. + +Rising quickly to his feet, Hugo struck a match and lighted the candle. +His hands trembled as he did so, and his knees seemed unusually weak. +He glanced furtively around the room as if expecting to see someone +standing near. Then he went to the bunk and looked down upon the child. +It was asleep! This was a surprise, for Hugo was certain that he had +heard its whimper but a couple of minutes before. What did it all +mean? Was it a dream from which he had been suddenly aroused: or had +the mother really been bending over her child, and for a few fleeting +seconds was revealed to mortal eyes? He had heard of such apparitions, +but had always considered them as mere delusions, the fanciful +imagination of overwrought brains. Now, however, it was different. He +had seen with his own eyes that form bending over the bunk, surrounded +by a halo of no earthly light. Was it the child’s mother? But perhaps +it was an angel! At once there flashed into his mind the words of the +Master over which he had often meditated. + +“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones, for I say unto +you that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father +which is in heaven.” + +Little children, then, had angel guardians, so, perhaps, he had +unwittingly surprised one this night in its ministry of love. Hugo was +deeply impressed. A feeling such as he had not known for years stole +into his heart. The room seemed suddenly transfigured. It was no longer +a humble abode, but the dwelling-place of a celestial messenger. And +the child was the cause of it all. For its sake the courts of heaven +had been stirred, and swifter than light an angel had winged its way +to that lone shack in the heart of the northern wilderness. It may +have been hovering around that cabin near the river at the time of +the tragedy. What part had it taken in protecting the child? It was +wonderful, and Hugo’s heart beat fast as these thoughts swept through +his mind. Had the angel guided his steps to that smokeless cabin? He +recalled how he had been on the point of taking another route that +morning, but had suddenly changed his mind and gone to the river +instead. Why he did so he could not tell, as he had never done the like +before. But now he understood. It was the angel which had altered his +course! + +Hugo’s mind dwelt continually upon this as he stirred up the fire and +prepared his breakfast. He made the tea exceptionally strong to soothe +his nerves. After he had eaten his meagre meal, he filled and lighted +his pipe. He then smoked and watched as the slow-footed hours dragged +wearily by. He was anxious to be away upon his journey, but he did not +wish to awaken the child. + +Once he thrust his right hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and +brought forth the ring. The diamond still fascinated him, though not as +formerly. He was master of himself now, and could examine the precious +gem more calmly. Its possession gave him a thrill of pleasure, even +though he knew that it was not his. What would he do with it? An idea +flashed into his mind, which caused him to glance toward the child. + +“No, not now,” he mused. “I must wait. It might get into wrong hands.” + +This decision seemed to satisfy him, so he replaced the ring, and +continued his watch. + +The dawn of a new day was stealing slowly over the land as Hugo resumed +his journey. At noon he halted to feed the child, and to eat his own +meal. Then up and on again through the short afternoon. He thought much +of what had occurred during the night, and the vision he had beheld +inspired him. His step was firmer and more decided than on the previous +day. The coldness did not seem so intense, and the Golden Horn appeared +to take on a brighter glow. When darkness enshrouded the land he again +halted to feed the baby. This took but a short time, and once more he +sped forward. Kynox was not far away, and he wished to make it that +night. + +Hour after hour he moved onward, though slower now, for the trail +was heavy and he was becoming very weary. No longer did the Golden +Horn direct his course. But he had the north star to guide him. The +Northern Lights were throwing out their long glittering streamers. They +appeared like vast battalions marching and countermarching across the +Arctic sky. Their banners rose, faded, vanished; to reappear, writhing, +twisting, curling, and flashing forth in matchless beauty all the +colors of the rainbow. Yellow and green, green and yellow, ruby-red and +greenish-white, chasing one another, vying with one another as the +great, silent army incessantly retreated and advanced. + +Hugo saw all this, and it never failed to arouse in him a feeling of +wonder and awe. He watched the stars, too. For years they had been +his steady companions on many a weary trail, and he read them like an +open book. He saw the belted Orion swinging in its usual place, and +the Great Bear dipping close to the horizon. He knew the time by the +figures on that vast dial overhead. He peered keenly forward now, and +at length he was rewarded by several faint lights glimmering through +the darkness. Kynox was just beyond. In a few minutes the outlines of +a number of buildings could be dimly discerned. These increased in +clearness as he advanced. Ere long one larger than the others loomed up +before him. He knew it well, and toward it he eagerly made his way. + + + + +CHAPTER 3 + +The Tell-Tale Lock + + +The hour of midnight had just struck as Marion Brisbane opened a side +door of the Kynox Hospital and entered. Her cheeks were flushed, and +her eyes shone with animation. It was her night off duty, and she had +enjoyed herself at Mrs. Beck’s, the wife of the mining recorder. A +few congenial friends had been invited, and most of the evening had +been spent at bridge-whist. While refreshments were being served, Miss +Risteen, the new teacher of the little school, had asked Marion why she +had come so far north. + +“For adventure, I suppose,” had been the smiling and evasive reply. + +“Have you found it?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“What! in a small hospital?” + +“Certainly. It is there that we see so much of the tragedy of this +country. Numerous trails lead into Kynox from various mining camps. You +have no idea how many patients we receive during the year, though now +we have only a few.” + +“But I mean adventure in the open,” Miss Risteen had explained. + +“Not much yet. But I have gone several times to outlying creeks to +administer first-aid to injured men during the doctor’s absence. He +has been away for a week now, so I never know when an urgent call may +come.” + +“Do you always go yourself?” + +“Yes, always.” + +Marion had then abruptly changed the subject, as she did not wish to be +questioned further. Her friends had more than once remonstrated with +her about her readiness and eagerness to go whenever a call came. They +had urged her to let the other nurses bear their share of the hardships +which such trips involved. But Marion had merely smiled, saying that +she was selfish and enjoyed going to the camps. Not even to her nearest +friends would she reveal the deep secret of her heart. + +That which gave her the greatest pleasure, however, was a letter which +Mr. Beck had handed to her during the evening. It had been given to +him by a miner that afternoon who had come in from the outer trails to +record a claim. At the first glance Marion knew whom it was from, and +it was this which caused the flush upon her face and the light of joy +in her eyes as she entered the hospital. She was anxious to reach her +own room where she could read the letter to her heart’s content. + +She had just closed and locked the door, when the night nurses appeared. + +“Oh, Miss Brisbane,” the latter began, “we have had a lively time since +you left.” + +“Nothing wrong, Miss Wade, I hope,” Marion somewhat anxiously replied. + +“That remains to be seen. About ten o’clock an old man, with a great +flowing beard, brought in a little child.” + +“Sick?” + +“No, nothing the matter with it.” + +“Why did he bring it here, then?” + +“For us to keep. He has given it to us.” + +“Given it to us!” Marion stared at the nurse in surprise. + +“That is what he said,” and Miss Wade smiled. “Why, he made himself at +home here, and took possession at once.” + +“Do you mean to tell me that he is here now?” Marion demanded. + +“He certainly is, and with all of his belongings. He has taken up his +abode in the kitchen, and is asleep on the floor, wrapped up in his +blankets. He has his toboggan there, too. Just think of that!” + +“But why didn’t you send him away?” + +“He wouldn’t go. I told him we couldn’t keep him; that this was a +hospital, and not a hotel. But it didn’t make any difference. He said +that this was good enough for him.” + +“What impudence! Why didn’t you send for me? Mr. Beck and the other men +would have come over and put the man out.” + +“Oh, I didn’t want to bother you. And besides, he seemed so harmless. +He just wanted the kitchen, so I couldn’t very well object.” + +“Where is the baby?” Marion asked. + +“Asleep in my room. I gave it a bath, which it certainly needed, and +something to eat. He is a dear little fellow, and I am fond of him +already.” + +“Who is the man, anyway? Did he tell you anything about himself, or +where he came from?” + +“He only said that he found the child in a cabin along the river about +a mile from the C. D. Cut-Off. He would tell me nothing more.” + +“Then the baby is not his,” Marion said. “It is strange that he should +bring it here. I wonder why he didn’t take it to Swift Stream.” + +“I asked him that,” Miss Wade replied, “but he told me he wasn’t +travelling that way. He is certainly an odd man, a giant in stature, +and with wonderful eyes which seem to look right through one. He kept +his cap on all the time, pulled down over his ears, even though the +kitchen was very warm. I believe he went to sleep with it on. Suppose +you have a look at him.” + +“Very well,” Marion agreed. “I am somewhat anxious to see our strange +guest.” + +Together they passed out of the room into the hallway, and made their +way to the door leading into the kitchen. This was closed, but Miss +Wade softly opened it and peeked in. + +“There he is,” she whispered. “He’s sound asleep.” + +A lamp, partly turned down, emitted sufficient light for Marion to see +the covered form lying upon the floor, with the toboggan nearby. + +“He’s got his cap on, all right,” Miss Wade again whispered, +suppressing with difficulty a giggle of amusement. “Isn’t it funny? He +must use it for a night-cap.” + +Marion motioned her to be silent, as she closed the door and led the +way back along the hallway. She, too, saw the humor of the situation, +although as matron she had to maintain the dignity of her position. + +After she had taken a look at the baby which was sleeping soundly, she +went to her own room. Here she opened the letter she had been carrying +in her hand, and ran her eyes rapidly over the contents. + +“Dear Miss Brisbane,” it began. + +“I am on my way to Lone Creek to bring in Scotty Ferguson, who met +with an accident. Please have a room ready for him. Constable Rolfe is +with me. We should reach Kynox at the end of this week. I am sending +this note by Joe Dart, who is going to town to record a claim. + + “Hoping to see you soon, + “Very sincerely yours, + “JOHN NORTH, + “_Sergeant, R. N. M. P._” + +That was all the letter contained in mere words, yet to Marion it meant +a great deal more. She saw the writer, the strong, manly sergeant, who +had made such a deep impression upon her. She recalled the last time he +had been at Kynox when he had brought in a sick miner from an outlying +creek. She had heard much about John North, the great trailsman and +the fearless defender of law and order. Many were the tales told of +his prowess to which Marion always listened with keen interest and a +quickening of the heart. To her he was the very embodiment of the ideal +hero, and one with King Arthur’s Knights of the Table Round. He was +ever moving from place to place, bringing relief to the afflicted and +redressing human wrongs. What a difference between this man and many +of the men she had met. He was not in the country for gain, but in the +noble service of his King and country. Her mind suddenly turned to the +strange, long-bearded man asleep on the kitchen floor. What a contrast +between him and John North. Who was he? she wondered, and where had he +found the child? She thought, too, of his oddity in wearing his cap all +the time. Was there some reason for this? Did it cover some scar or +other disfigurement? + +As she asked herself these questions, an idea flashed into her mind +which caused the blood to fade from her cheeks and her hands to +tremble. She tried to banish the notion as she replaced the letter into +its envelope and laid it upon a small table by her bed. But the idea +would persist in returning until she could no longer resist its appeal. + +For the space of a half-hour she debated with herself as to what she +should do. Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning before +seeing the man again. This, however, did not satisfy her. Several times +she started to open the door, but each time drew back, uncertain and +agitated. She was no coward, yet the thought of what might be revealed +unnerved her. Nevertheless, she knew that the ordeal must be faced +sooner or later. For that she had come north, and with one object in +view she had visited numerous creeks and mining camps. But never before +had such a nameless dread overwhelmed her. She had searched eagerly, +and hopefully, studying with the closest scrutiny the one face which +would reward all her efforts. + +At length feeling that she could delay no longer, she left her room, +and sped along the hallway. She felt guilty, almost like a thief, as +she pushed open the kitchen door and looked in. The man was evidently +sound asleep, for he was lying in the same position as when she first +saw him. Creeping close to his side, she stooped and listened. Yes, +he was asleep and breathing heavily. Reaching swiftly out, she lifted +the peak of his cap, and at once the white lock of hair was exposed to +view. Marion had seen enough. She turned and fled out of the kitchen, +along the hall, and back to the shelter of her room. Here she stood, +wide-eyed and panting like a hunted creature. She had reached the end +of her quest. That for which she had been seeking she had found. But +what a bitter disappointment! How she had looked forward to such a +moment. It had arrived, passed, and she was left helpless, bewildered. + +Sinking down upon the only chair the room contained, she endeavored to +compose her mind that she might view the affair in as clear a light +as possible. That the man lying in the kitchen was her father she had +not the slightest doubt. That white lock of hair betrayed him, if +nothing else. It was a family characteristic, and she alone of several +generations had escaped the distinctive mark. How proud the Brisbanes +had always been of their peculiar feature, and when no trace of it +appeared in Marion’s luxuriant hair they had been greatly disappointed. +The “Brisbane lock” was a common expression. It had its origin, so it +was believed, in a great battle. A Brisbane in defending his King had +received a sword cut on his forehead which left a gaping wound. When +this healed, instead of an unsightly scar, the hair came out as white +as snow. For years after that lock was a sign of royal favor, and a +white lock formed the important feature of the family coat-of-arms. +“Remember the Brisbane lock,” parents had admonished their children +through many generations. It had always been to them a standard, a sign +of almost divine favor. They had tried to live up to the ideal set by +their worthy ancestor on the field of battle. Through all the years +only one Brisbane had brought reproach upon the name and the lock. And +that man had fled from home and justice, a wretched outcast. + +Marion was but a girl of twelve at that time, and she loved her father +with all the ardor of her passionate nature. Nothing could make her +believe the charge of forgery which was preferred against him. There +had been some mistake, she was certain, and he had been basely wronged. +Some day he would be proven innocent, the guilty ones exposed, and the +Brisbane name cleared of infamy. Her mother believed the same, and +thus through the years the two waited in patient hope. But they waited +in vain. The exile did not return, so his deed remained a part of the +history of the little town, and a blot upon the family escutcheon. + +Ten years passed and no word from the absent one reached the mother +and daughter. They knew, however, that he must be alive, for regularly +twice a year money reached them through a local bank. It was a +liberal amount, deposited to their credit, although the circumstances +surrounding it were not divulged. But they were certain who sent it, +and it was a steady reminder to them that he was in the land of the +living and might one day return. Mrs. Brisbane cherished this hope +until the last, and ere she died she expressed the wish that Marion +should search diligently for her father. This the girl willingly agreed +to do, for the idea had been lodging in her own mind for some time. + +In order to carry out her design, Marion became a nurse. The west +called to her, for she firmly believed that there her father had +gone. After practising for two years in a city on the Pacific coast, +she responded to an appeal from the far north. The new hospital at +Kynox was in need of nurses, and she was at once placed in charge. It +was a position of considerable responsibility, but she fulfilled her +duties in a highly creditable manner. Her charming disposition, and +her readiness to sacrifice herself for others, won all hearts. Old +miners and prospectors, especially, appealed to her, for she was always +hopeful that among them she would find her father. How eagerly her eyes +searched every new face she met, and sought for the tell-tale lock. Men +noted this earnest look, and often commented upon it among themselves. +To them Nurse Marion was an angel of mercy, and even the roughest among +them always spoke of her with the greatest respect. + +Marion enjoyed her work and life in the northland. But never for a +moment did she lose sight of her great quest. At times she almost +despaired of ever finding her father. It was a vast land, and she was +able to meet but a few of the miners and prospectors. How could she +ever find the one for whom she was so eagerly seeking? + +The image that Marion had kept in her mind of her father was a +beautiful one. She remembered him as a man of fine appearance, of more +than ordinary stature, with a strong, noble face. How proud she had +always, been when walking by his side, for then Thomas Brisbane was the +leading citizen of Garthroy. She expected to find him the same years +later. She was, therefore, totally unprepared to see her father in the +long-bearded, and unkempt creature, content with the kitchen floor for +his bed. What would her two assistant nurses think should she divulge +the secret? And the people of Kynox--for there was a social clique even +in this wilderness town--what would they say? + +Hour after hour Marion battled with her doubts and fears. The night +seemed unbearably long, and yet she dreaded for morning to come. +Something then would have to be done. Should she let her father go +without telling him who she was? And if she did tell, how would he +receive the news? Would he rejoice in meeting his daughter again? or +would he flee from her presence? Her brain was in a whirl, and she +walked up and down her little room, torn by conflicting emotions. + +Toward morning a desire came to her to go to her father and speak +to him. If there should be an embarrassing scene it would be better +to be with him alone than to have other nurses around. Her courage +almost failed her as she left her room and hurried once more along the +hallway. She was glad that the night nurse was nowhere in sight, as +she did not wish to meet her just then. Reaching the kitchen door, she +pushed it open and looked in. She started and glanced around the room. +There was no one there. Her father was gone! + + + + +CHAPTER 4 + +To Be Continued + + +For two days Marion Brisbane lived in a world of doubt and uncertainty. +She was in a quandary. She had found her father, only to lose him +again. Should she go in search of him? But where would she go? How +could she find him? To whom could she turn for advice and help? How +could she explain the reason of her search without telling who the man +really was? And this she did not wish to do, for the present, at least. +This problem agitated her mind as she went mechanically about her work. +The child had been taken by a man and his wife who had no children of +their own, and were strongly drawn to the little waif of the night. + +When the story of the old man’s visit to the hospital and his sudden +disappearance leaked out, it caused much comment in Kynox. Several +surmised that it was Hugo, the wanderer of the trails, the peculiar +trapper about whom they had heard much, although few had ever seen him. +From the earliest days mystery has always delighted the human mind. +Strange characters, noted for their peculiar ways, and endowed with +great strength, have ever made special appeal. They give a spice, a +thrill to life, and remove some of its monotonous drabness. No race, no +age, has ever lacked some mysterious being about whom many legendary +tales gather. This was true in a way of Hugo, the trapper. Where +he had come from no one knew. He had no settled abode, being in one +place to-day and miles away on the morrow. He had been known to appear +suddenly at some mining camp with an injured prospector and vanish +again into the wilderness. He was as elusive as a shadow, and just as +intangible. He was terrible in a fight, so it was asserted, and he was +the only creature of which the grizzlies, the dread of the trails, +were afraid. His latest act in bringing in the little child stirred up +afresh the numerous stories concerning his mysterious life. + +Marion had heard some of these tales before, but had taken no special +interest in them until now. She had concluded that the trapper was +some great uncouth creature, half man and half beast by nature, who +had lived most of his life in the wilderness. But never for an instant +had he meant anything to her. That such a being could be the one for +whom she was so anxiously seeking was beyond the bounds of her wildest +imagination. Now she knew, and she listened with fast-beating heart to +every scrap of information concerning the trapper. She concealed her +feelings as much as possible, although when alone in her own room she +would pace excitedly to and fro, her mind rent by wild, conflicting +emotions. That she must see him again was the burden of her thoughts. +To find him she had come north, and she must not give up until she had +accomplished her purpose. + +The second evening after Hugo’s arrival a startling story drifted into +Kynox from Swift Stream. It told of the murder of Bill Haines, his +wife, and little child near the C. D. Cut-Off. Two miners on their way +down river had stopped at the cabin, found signs of a fierce struggle, +and marks of blood leading to the river. They had reported the affair +to the Mounted Police at the first station they reached, so the news +was at once flashed to headquarters at Swift Stream, over the single +wire running from Ashcroft to Dawson. + +This was most disturbing news to the people of Kynox, and their +thoughts naturally turned to the little child which had been brought to +the hospital by Hugo, the trapper. Did the latter know anything about +the murder? they asked one another. What was he doing with the child? +and why had he left so mysteriously in the night? It was very strange +and suspicious, they reasoned, that he had reported nothing, and had +given no word of explanation. It was surely the Haines’ child he had +brought to Kynox, so he must know something about the terrible affair +near the Cut-Off. + +Marion was now more disturbed than ever. Outwardly she was very calm +as she answered the numerous questions about the night visitors. She +merely related what the night nurse had told her, and made no mention +of her own first secret visit to the kitchen. She was determined not to +divulge that. But fearful thoughts would persist in forcing themselves +into her mind. Had her father committed that terrible deed? Anyway, if +he knew anything about it why had he not reported at once? Her father +a murderer! The idea was almost unbearable. She could not believe it. +No Brisbane would ever descend to such depths. But her father would +be suspected. The Police would hear about his visit to the hospital +with the child, and of his sudden departure in the night. They would +track him, find him, and bring him to trial. Would he be able to clear +himself? to prove that he was innocent? + +Marion thought of all this and a great deal more during the rest of +the week. She found it difficult to sleep, for she would awake in +the middle of the night overwhelmed with a presentiment of impending +disaster. Saturday came, and also Sergeant John North. He and Rolfe +brought the injured miner to the hospital, and when the constable +had left, North remained. Marion thought that he had never looked so +handsome as when he stood before her that afternoon, clad just as he +had come from the trail. He was a noble specimen of a man, well-built, +and over six feet in height. His face, bronzed and weather-beaten, was +strong, and his mouth and chin firm. His face was smooth-shaven, for +Sergeant North was careful of his personal appearance, particularly so +whenever he visited Kynox. His eyes, grey and steady, were never known +to flinch from danger. When they glowed with anger or indignation, as +they did on special occasions, their owner was a man to be feared. But +now they shone with a tender expression as they rested upon Marion +Brisbane’s slightly flushed face. + +Sergeant North was a reserved man, and little accustomed to the company +of women. Years on the frontiers of civilization had brought him into +contact with many stern realities of life. Surrounded by the ruggedness +and the grandeur of nature in every possible form, he had gradually +and unconsciously become moulded by its mystic influence. The ways of +polite society were to him a closed book, and the petty social chatter +made no appeal. He loved the open, the great spaces, and the winding +trails. The iron of the land had entered into his being, and the +silent, mysterious alchemy of the north affected his soul like magic. +Combined with all these subtle influences was the law of the Force he +served. It was Duty first and last. “Maintien le Droit” was the motto +of this wonderful body of men, and the code written in the little red +manual was stern and stripped of all useless verbiage. It told without +a shadow of a doubt what was expected, and the instructions were to be +followed to the letter. This suited Sergeant North. He loved the life, +and never once had he swerved one hair’s breadth from the strict line +of duty. + +His was not an impressionable nature, and he was always shy in the +presence of women. But when Marion Brisbane crossed his path it was +altogether different. She inspired him with confidence, his shyness +vanished, and he could talk freely. Out upon the trails a vision of +her was ever before him, and he always counted the days until he could +see her again. So standing before her this afternoon in the hospital, +he feasted his soul upon her face, lips, eyes, and hair. He did not +want to talk; it was heaven enough to be near her, and to revel in +her beauty. Whatever Sergeant North did it was with his whole might. +He threw himself unreservedly into every undertaking. He was a hard +trailsman, a stern fighter, when fighting was necessary, and now for +the first time in his life he was a great lover. + +Marion’s eyes dropped beneath North’s ardent gaze, and she became +somewhat embarrassed. Neither spoke, and for a few seconds intense +silence reigned. Then they both smiled and the tension was broken. + +“Forgive me for keeping you standing,” Marion apologized. “It is very +stupid of me. Come in here,” and she opened a door on her right. + +“I have not long to stay,” North explained, as he followed her into the +little sitting-room, and seated himself in a comfortable chair which +Marion offered. “There is very serious business ahead. You know to what +I refer.” + +“You mean the murder near the C. D. Cut-Off, I suppose,” Marion replied +as she seated herself near the window. “I have heard of it.” + +“And you had a visit from Hugo, the trapper, I understand.” + +“Oh, yes. He brought a little child here one night.” + +“Where is the child now?” + +“With Mr. and Mrs. Parker. They have taken it as their own, and are +very fond of it.” + +Sergeant North gazed thoughtfully out of the window for a few seconds. +He was really looking at the peak of the Golden Horn far away in the +distance, although he saw it not. His mind was upon more important +things. + +“Are you certain that it was Hugo, the trapper, who brought that child +here?” he asked. + +“No, I am not,” Marion emphatically replied, “but it is the general +opinion in Kynox that he is the man.” + +“Did he wear his cap while he was in the hospital?” + +“Yes, even when he was asleep on the kitchen floor.” + +“Then it was Hugo, all right; I never saw him without his cap.” + +“Why does he always wear it?” + +“I do not know.” + +Marion’s hands were clasped upon her lap, and although her eyes were +downcast she knew that the sergeant was looking intently upon her face. +The next instant he had reached out and caught both of her hands in +his. With a slight cry of surprise, Marion tried to free her hands, but +the sergeant held them firm. + +“Don’t, don’t,” she gasped as she struggled to her feet. “You must not +do that; it isn’t right.” + +“Love makes it right,” North replied, as he also rose. “Marion, I love +you, and I want you to know it. I am a man of few words, and not used +to love-making language. But I must tell you. I cannot restrain myself +any longer.” + +He ceased, drew her to him, and his lips met hers. No longer did Marion +contend, for a happiness such as she had never known swept over her. +She felt North’s strong arms about her, holding her close. Neither +spoke. It was enough that they were together, so words were unnecessary. + +Gently at length Marion freed herself from her lover’s embrace, and +stood before him with flaming cheeks. + +“I never imagined that you loved me so much,” she murmured. “It seems +like a wonderful dream.” + +“It is no dream,” North assured, “it is the glorious reality. I was +afraid that you didn’t love me, but I had to tell you to-day, for I +might not see you again for some time.” + +“What! are you going away?” + +“Yes, in a short time, just as soon as the dogs get rested a little. +There is serious work ahead, and I must not delay.” + +“In connection with the murder?” + +“Yes. Hugo is the man I want. He is either the murderer, or he has +information which I need. But he is a nasty man to face, and there may +be trouble.” + +“Oh! do you think so?” The color faded somewhat from Marion’s cheeks. +She had to think of two now. How terrible it would be if her father and +her lover should meet in a deadly encounter! She longed to tell North +of the discovery she had made. If he knew that Hugo was her father, +would he let him escape for her sake? But how could she tell him? What +would he think of her for trying to divert him from the strict line of +duty which she understood he had always followed? + +These thoughts flashed through her mind with lightning rapidity as +she stood there. North noted the troubled expression in her eyes, and +attributed it to her interest on his behalf. + +“You must not worry about me,” he told her. “I am well able to take +care of myself.” + +“But I am thinking about the trapper,” Marion truthfully explained. “I +do not believe that he is the murderer. Why should he have brought that +little child here if he had murdered its parents? Would he not have +killed it, too, and fled to the wilderness? Have you thought of that?” + +“Indeed I have,” was the emphatic reply, “and it is that which puzzles +me. But Hugo is a strange character, and always does just the opposite +from what one would expect. He may have brought the child here in order +to deceive us.” + +“But no one would have suspected him,” Marion insisted. “He could have +murdered the parents and child and thrown their bodies into the river. +What reason did he have for saving the child and bringing it here? +Would you have suspected him of the deed?” + +“Not at first, perhaps, but eventually we would have suspected him. It +is utterly impossible for any man to escape in a country such as this. +So far, every criminal has been brought to justice, no matter to what +part of the world he fled. But, there, let us forget Hugo at present. +I shall have enough of him before long. It is of you alone I want to +think, Marion. Your love means more to me than anything else. And you +do love me, don’t you? The assurance from your lips will send me forth +upon my quest with renewed energy. I shall hasten the task, knowing +that the sooner it is accomplished, the sooner I shall return to you.” + +The sergeant was about to reach out his arms once more to draw Marion +toward him, when a step along the hallway caused him to hesitate. He +retreated a couple of steps, and thus the two were standing facing each +other in a most formal manner as a nurse appeared at the door. + +“Excuse me, Miss Brisbane,” she began, “but a man has just arrived from +Big Chance for the doctor. A miner has been seriously injured, and +needs medical aid.” + +“Where is the man who brought the news?” Marion questioned, now all +attention. + +“He has gone to look after his dogs,” was the reply. “I told him the +doctor was away, but that we are expecting him back soon. He asked if +one of the nurses could go, as the case is very urgent. He said that +he could not take his own dogs out again, as they are almost exhausted +with travelling day and night. I wonder what can be done.” + +“I must get a team and go at once,” Marion emphatically declared. “I +have gone before, so can do it again. Tell Miss Wade to prepare my +outfit, as she knows what I shall need. I know where I can get a good +team of dogs, so shall look after that myself.” + +When the nurse had gone, Marion turned to the sergeant. Her eyes shone +with animation and her face expressed determination. + +“You will have to excuse me,” she simply said. “‘Duty first’ is the +law here as well as in the Force. I must get ready at once.” + +“Suppose you travel with me,” North suggested. “I am bound for Big +Chance, and nothing on earth would please me better than to have you +along. I shall order Rolfe to have the dogs ready in an hour’s time. +They are a great team, and can make the trip faster than any dogs you +can get in Kynox. I am sure we shall enjoy the run together. Rolfe, +too, will be delighted to have a woman along. He will regale you with +poetry of which his head is full. He is an excellent fellow, for all +that, and as true as steel.” + +“I think it will be splendid to go with you,” Marion emphatically +replied. “It will not take me long to get ready. As for poetry, Mr. +Rolfe can quote to his heart’s content. I shall enjoy it, I am sure.” + +“But what about the important matter we were discussing when the nurse +arrived? I am hungry for your answer. You surely have it ready.” + +“Oh, that’s to be continued, like they say about a story,” Marion +smilingly replied. + +“On the trail?” + +“Perhaps so.” + +“And the conclusion?” + +Marion paused as she was about to leave the room. Her thoughts flashed +to the murder, and her suspected father. The troubled expression +returned to her eyes as she turned them upon her lover’s face. + +“The conclusion can only come after several more chapters have been +written,” she quietly replied. “All depends upon the nature of those +chapters. You must be patient and wait.” + + + + +CHAPTER 5 + +Face to Face + + +A leaden sky and a wind increasing in intensity presaged a coming +storm. It had been threatening since morning, and although Sergeant +North knew that he could not outstrip it, yet he hoped to reach Big +Chance before the trail became too heavy. The dogs were in fine +trim, better than he had ever seen them. They seemed to realize the +importance of the mission upon which they were bent, and the special +need for haste. They sped along the narrow, winding trail, through +forests, across inland lakes, up dreary stretches of wild meadows, +and over desolate tracts, where trees withered by fire stood stark +and bare. Pedro, a noble Malamute, long and lithe as a wolf, was the +leader. Five of his companions were full-blooded huskies, of the +Mackenzie River breed, surly and treacherous, but great workers. John, +the wheel-dog, was the only mongrel, lazy, but of enduring strength +and speed when forced by the stinging lash. For such a team of seven +able and hardened brutes the load they drew retarded them but little. +At times the sergeant, who guided the sled, and the constable, who +followed after, found it all they could do to keep pace with the fleet +animals. + +Seated upon the sled, and well wrapped in robes and blankets, Marion +Brisbane thoroughly enjoyed the trip through the wilderness. Never +before had she been drawn by such a noble team of dogs, and she never +wearied watching them as they loped forward. Added to this, was the +presence of the man who had avowed his love the day before. Although +she could not see his face, she could feel his presence as he towered +above her at his watchful task of directing the sled. His right hand +held the whip, but only when the wheel-dog lagged would the lash split +the air like a pistol shot. There was little chance for conversation. +The lovers were happy, so words did not signify. + +They had made good progress the previous afternoon, and had reached +the little road-house at the Forks, about twenty miles from Kynox, +several hours after dark. Here they had spent the night, and were up +and on their way early in the morning. From here to Big Chance the only +stopping-place was a police patrol-house. This was free to prospectors, +miners, and other travellers, with the distinct understanding that +no damage was to be done, and if they were forced to use any of the +provisions stored there they were to report it to the police as soon as +possible. This was a strict law, and it was always obeyed to the letter. + +At first Sergeant North hoped to make Big Chance without stopping at +the patrol-house. He could not afford the delay if they were to reach +their destination that night. But when the storm came upon them just +after they had eaten their frugal meal in the shelter of a little clump +of trees, he was forced to give up the idea of gaining the mining camp +that night. They would do well to reach the patrol-house. + +They were passing through a wooded region when the snow began to fall, +and it dropped gently and harmlessly upon their bodies. The flakes +were small, easily brushed aside, and in no wise interfered with their +progress. But the roaring of the wind overhead and the swaying of the +tree-tops told of the tempest that was raging outside. + +“Suppose we camp here,” Rolfe suggested. “It’s a nasty storm, and we’ll +hit a bad trail ahead over the burnt land.” + +“But we can make it, all right,” North replied. “We don’t want to spend +the afternoon and night here. We’re travelling light, remember, with +very little grub for ourselves, and none for the dogs. There’s plenty +at the patrol-house ahead, so we must make that. This storm may last +for a couple of days.” + +Rolfe saw the wisdom of the sergeant’s words, and lapsed into silence +as he plodded steadily on. Ere long the trail led out of the woods into +the open on a small lake. Here the wind showed some of its force, and +swirled the light snow about their forms. But it was only after they +had passed through another grove of trees and reached the burnt land +did they feel the full sweep of the storm. Here thousands of rampikes +stood gaunt and naked. Among these the snow was driving like millions +of lances of the great unseen legions of the northland. The dogs +flinched and whined as the tempest struck them. Even North and Rolfe +were compelled to turn their faces from the stinging fury of the icy +darts, while Marion was forced to cover her head completely with the +fur rug. + +“Can we make it?” Rolfe gaspingly asked. “This is terrible!” + +“We must,” North replied. “We can’t stay here, and we can’t go back. +Get out the snow-shoes, for the trail’s already full.” + +With the snow-shoes donned, North spoke to the crouching dogs. But +for the first time in their lives they refused to obey their master’s +command. + +“Mush on,” the sergeant roared as the long lash snapped and sizzled +around their ears and flanks. + +Howls of pain rent the air as the dogs struggled to their feet and +strained at the traces. With bent heads and lolling tongues they moved +slowly forward. It was Pedro who bore the main brunt of the storm, as +he nosed his way onward. At length the wheel-dog lagged, surged back +and dropped in his tracks. He refused to move, buried his nose in the +snow and seemed to pay no heed to the whining lash. There was no time +for delay, so he was unhitched, thrust rudely aside, and replaced by +the dog ahead. Then on again they pressed, the snow becoming deeper, +and the wind fiercer. Several times Marion begged to be allowed to +walk. But North only laughed, reminding her that she had no snow-shoes. + +Even Pedro at length stopped, squatted in the snow, and turned +appealing eyes upon his master’s face. + +“Played out, old boy?” North queried. “You’ve certainly done well.” He +then turned to the constable. “Take my place, Rolfe, I’m going to help +the dogs.” + +From the front of the sled he procured a rope, both ends of which he +attached to Pedro’s harness. With the loop thus formed placed over his +shoulders he went ahead, broke down the trail, making it easier for the +team to follow. In this manner they were able to make better progress, +and they were just in sight of thick woods beyond when the huskies +dropped and refused to go a step farther. They, too, were cast adrift, +and the sergeant and Pedro, assisted now by the constable, tried to +draw the sled. They went but a short distance when they were forced to +give up in despair. + +“It’s no use,” North panted, “we can’t make it. I guess you’ll have to +walk, after all, Marion, unless you have wings. Rolfe, you go ahead +and beat down the trail.” + +Marion was only too glad to be on her feet. She was cold and +uncomfortable from her cramped position. The sergeant looked at her +in admiration as she smilingly threw aside the robes and stepped upon +the trail. The parka she was wearing could not conceal her sparkling +eyes, animated face, and several tresses of dark-brown hair waving +over cheeks and forehead. How he longed to pick her up in his arms and +carry her to the house. He knew that he could do it, for she seemed so +fragile as she stood there buffeted by the storm. Marion noticed his +look, and surmised its meaning. + +“I am quite able to walk,” she said. “You have no idea how strong I am.” + +“I know you are, and, in a way, I am sorry. I would really like to +carry you. I dare you to let me.” + +“Nonsense,” Marion chided. “I am going to show you what I can do.” + +“Very well, then,” the sergeant sighed, “follow on my heels, as +Shakespeare says, and we shall soon reach the woods.” + +The trail thus beaten down by two pairs of snow-shoes was not hard to +follow, and in a short time the heavy timber was reached. Here the +wind could not touch them, and they both breathed more freely as they +stopped to rest. + +“The patrol-house is only a few rods ahead,” North explained, “so we +should be able to make it now without much trouble. Are you tired?” + +“Not much,” was the reply. “You won’t have to carry me, after all, will +you?” + +“I am afraid not. But, hello! here’s Rolfe back again.” + +“I beat the way almost to the house,” the constable explained, “so I’m +going after the dogs. I expect to have trouble.” + +“Do the best you can,” North replied, “and I shall hurry back to help +you.” + +It did not take the sergeant and Marion long to come in sight of the +patrol-house. It was a small building, situated a few yards from the +trail. As they approached, they could see smoke issuing from the stove +pipe stuck up through the roof. + +“Somebody’s ahead of us, I see,” North remarked. “The place will be +warm at any rate.” + +In another minute they were at the door, which the sergeant at once +unlatched and pushed open. They were accosted by the growl of a dog, +but Marion paid little attention to the animal, for her eyes were fixed +at once upon the man standing in the middle of the room. She knew +him at once, and her heart almost stopped its beating. The sergeant, +however, stepped forward as one who had a right to the place. If he +recognized Hugo, the trapper, he gave no sign. + +“Bad storm,” he remarked. “I’m glad you’ve got a good fire. I hope you +won’t mind visitors.” + +“Make yourself at home,” Hugo replied, mistaking him for a miner or a +prospector. “All are welcome here.” + +The sergeant then turned to Marion and noted how she was staring at the +trapper. + +“You stay here,” he said, “while I go and give a hand with the dogs. I +won’t be any longer than I can help.” + +Turning, he passed out into the storm, and Marion was left alone with +her father. He was watching her somewhat curiously, his cap pulled well +down over his ears. The light from the little window in the south side +of the building made it possible for her to see him quite plainly. What +should she say? Did he have any idea who she was? Should she warn him +of his danger? Would that be fair to North? And yet he was her father, +even though he had deserted her and her mother for so long. + +And while she thus stood in doubt there came into her mind his loving +care when she was but a child. How he had played with her, fondled her, +and she had always looked forward to his coming home at night. It all +rushed upon her now in a moment. Forgotten was everything else. What +would her mother say if she did not stand by him in his time of need? + +And all the while Hugo was watching her. What was there in her face +that caused that peculiar expression to appear in his eyes? Why did he +at length step quickly forward and lay his right hand upon her arm? + +“Take off your hood,” he ordered in a voice filled with emotion. + +As Marion at once obeyed, he looked upon her tossed hair, and again +studied her face most intently. He seemed like a man trying to recall +something which he had long since forgotten. Marion noted this and her +heart beat wildly. The pathetic expression upon his face moved her +deeply. She could endure the strain no longer. Hugo had turned away, +and was about to go over to the little stove. + +“Father! Father!” she cried, “don’t you know me? I am Marion, your own +daughter.” + +With a roar the trapper wheeled and again faced the girl. The doubt was +now gone from his face, and in its stead there was an expression of +bewildered joy. + +“You my daughter?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “You Marion Brisbane?” + +“Yes, I am,” was the faint response. “Didn’t you know me?” + +Hugo’s only reply was to reach out and gather her in his great arms. +The tension of long years was broken. The man of iron, the terror of +interferers, and the enigma of the trails was at last subdued. His head +rested upon his daughter’s shoulder, while great sobs shook his mighty +frame. At length he stepped back and held her at arm’s length. + +“Yes, I can see your mother’s looks,” he mused as if to himself. “I +thought I couldn’t be mistaken. Tell me, is she alive?” + +“No, she has been dead for some time.” + +“Ah!” Hugo’s hands dropped, and he stood staring off into space. The +past was sweeping upon him like a flood, and overwhelming him. He +turned and sat down heavily upon a rough block of wood which served as +a seat. With back bowed and head bent he remained very still. Marion +went to his side and laid a hand upon his shoulder. + +“But you have me, father,” she began. “I have been searching for you a +long time.” + +“You have!” Hugo looked at her in surprise. “How did you know me?” + +“By your white lock.” + +“When did you see that?” + +“At the hospital when you were asleep on the kitchen floor.” + +“But my cap was on.” + +“I know it was. But I crept in and lifted it.” + +“So you followed me here?” + +“Oh, no. I had no idea where you had gone. I am on my way to Big Chance +to attend an injured miner. The storm caused us to take refuge here.” + +“Who is travelling with you?” + +“Sergeant North, and----” + +Before Marion could finish, Hugo was on his feet. The old expression +of hate and fear had returned to his eyes, and in an instant he was +completely transformed. With a bound he was across the room. In another +instant he had seized his snow-shoes, rifle, and a bundle lying upon +the floor. Then with a swift glance toward his daughter, he rushed to +the door, tore it open, called to his dog, and plunged out into the +storm. + +All this happened so quickly that Marion was amazed and dumbfounded. +But when her father had left she hurried to the door and looked out. +But no sign of him could she see. He had vanished in the forest and the +storm. A terrible dread now swept upon her. Only one meaning could she +take from her father’s peculiar action. He must be fleeing from the +Police! But why unless he had committed some crime? She thought of the +murder near the C. D. Cut-Off. Did her father commit that? + +Forgotten was the storm as she stood in the doorway, staring out among +the trees. She thought nothing of the cold, neither did she notice the +sergeant until he was but a few yards away. + +“Marion! Marion! what is the matter?” he asked in astonishment, +noticing the strained look upon her face. “Has anything happened?” + +Marion gave a nervous laugh as she stepped back into the room, closely +followed by the sergeant. + +“I am lonely, that’s all,” she evaded. “The man you left with me has +gone.” + +“H’m that’s good,” North replied. “He didn’t like a woman around, I +suppose. One comes across queer characters up here. Some of them have +lived so long alone that they hardly know how to behave in the presence +of a female. But, there, we need not worry about that fellow. If he +doesn’t like your company, there’s someone else who does.” Stooping, he +kissed her upon the lips. “There, little girl, you know who likes your +company, so you needn’t be lonely any more.” + +Just then Rolfe was heard outside shouting to the dogs. Marion started +and drew back, her face flushed a deep crimson. + +“Does he know?” she whispered. + +“Who? Rolfe?” + +“Yes.” + +“Sure. Do you think I could keep the good news from him?” + + + + +CHAPTER 6 + +Zell + + +In a rude log shack in the little mining camp of Big Chance a young man +lay on a rough bunk. By his side sat Marion Brisbane. She had done all +in her power on his behalf, but she was fully aware that greater skill +than she possessed was needed. Only a doctor could probe for the bullet +which was lodged in his side. She felt her own helplessness as she sat +there with the still form so near. + +Marion had several things to worry her this night. She thought of +the journey from the patrol-house to the mining camp. She knew that +Sergeant North loved her with all the intensity of his strong nature. +And she loved him. But was she true to him? She had not told him that +the man who had fled from the patrol-house out into the storm was Hugo, +the trapper, and her father. He would find it out some day, and what +would he then think of her? Should she have told him? she asked herself +over and over again. But it was too late now. He had been gone from Big +Chance for over an hour, and who could tell what might happen ere his +return? Perhaps he would never come back. He had gone in search of a +man who would not lightly be captured. And in the struggle which she +felt sure would ensue what terrible things might happen. Her father +would fight to the last, she was certain, and so would John North. He +had never been known to turn from the face of man, so she had heard, +and so far he had never come back from a quest empty-handed. + +And while she sat and meditated, the door was pushed gently open and +a girl entered. She came at once over to the bunk, stooped and looked +earnestly upon the unconscious man. She then dropped upon her knees +by his side, took his left hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. +Not a word did she utter, and seemed to pay no heed to the nurse. +But Marion did not need any explanation. She understood the meaning +of the girl’s action, and her heart went out to her in sympathy. She +believed that the two were lovers, and that because of their love a +tragedy had been enacted there in that little mining camp. The girl +impressed her by her remarkable beauty and strange abandon. Her clothes +were of the roughest, but so graceful was her form, that they fitted +her perfectly. Her hair, black as a raven’s wing, fell in two long +braids to her waist. The color of her face betrayed Indian blood in her +veins, causing Marion to surmise that she was a half-breed. She had met +several before, but none as graceful and charming as the one before +her. She longed to know her history, and the story of her love for the +white man upon the bunk. + +At length the girl raised her head and looked up at the nurse. + +“Will he get better?” she asked in a voice with a pronounced English +accent. + +“Let us hope so,” Marion replied. “But he needs a doctor at once. He is +the only one who can do anything for him now.” + +“When will he be here?” + +“I cannot tell. But I left word for him to come as soon as possible. +He was away from Kynox when I left.” + +“And you can do nothing for him?” the girl asked. + +“Nothing, I am sorry to say.” + +“Then he must have the missionary. He will come, I know.” + +“The missionary? Where is he?” + +“At ‘The Gap.’ I shall go for him. He will come for me. He is a good +doctor, and he will pray and make him well.” + +The girl rose to her feet as if to hurry away. But Marion caught her by +the arm and told her to sit down. + +“What is your name?” she asked. + +“Zell.” + +“What else? What is your father’s name?” + +“Sam Rixton, but people always call him ‘Sam, the Siwash.’ My mother is +an Indian. Her name is Susie.” + +“And have you lived here all your life?” + +“Oh, no. I was put in the Mission school at The Gap when very young, +and left only a year ago.” + +“So that is where you learned to speak English so well, I suppose.” + +“Yes, the missionary and his wife were good to me. I guess they thought +more of me than of all the others. They wanted to keep me and take me +back to England. They came from there, you see.” + +“But you preferred to stay here?” + +“I wanted to go until I met Tim,” was the low reply. “After that +nothing could drag me away from the North. Oh, we were so happy until +that trouble came.” The girl gave a deep sigh as she looked longingly +upon the face of the man before her. + +“Where did you first meet him?” Marion asked. + +“At The Gap. I was at school then and met Tim when he was prospecting +in the hills. He used to come to church every Sunday, and I saw him as +we all marched in and out. Then for a time we managed to get letters to +each other, and one night after all had gone to bed I slipped out of +the house and met Tim by a big tree. He told me how much he loved me, +and asked me to leave school and go back to my father and mother so he +could see me often.” + +The girl paused and a troubled expression overspread her face. Then +with tear-dimmed eyes she turned impulsively to the nurse. + +“That was the beginning of all my trouble,” she confessed. “I was +found out and ordered not to meet Tim again. The missionary and his +wife talked to me. They did not scold me, but said if I would not obey +I would have to leave the school. I promised that I would be good. +But, oh, Miss, as the weeks went by I did so long to see Tim just +once again. I couldn’t live without him. I met him again by the tree, +and--and,” her voice was very low now, “I was sent from the school in +disgrace, and came to my parents.” + +“Have you seen the missionary and his wife since?” Marion asked. + +“No. Mrs. Norris died not long after I left. I did want to go to +her funeral, but it was a long way, and I was afraid to meet the +missionary. I believe she died because I left, for she thought so much +of me. I couldn’t bear the thought of the missionary seeing me. I knew +he wouldn’t scold, for he never did that, but he would look at me with +those wonderful eyes of his, and, oh, Miss, if you could see them you +would know just what I mean.” + +“Is the missionary still living at The Gap?” + +“Yes, he is there, but he has no school now. Nearly all of the Indians +have deserted him. Bad white men did it. They took in rum, made fun of +the missionary and his school, and got the Indians to leave the place. +They are all scattered now, some here, and some in other camps, always +hanging around for rum. They will do anything for hootch, and the women +are just as bad as the men.” + +“Why does the missionary stay at The Gap when the Indians have gone?” +Marion enquired. + +“He is waiting for them to come back, so I have been told. He prays and +prays for them. He has service in the church every night, and most of +the time he is the only one there. But he rings the little bell just as +he used to do, and then goes on with the service.” + +“He must be a good man,” Marion remarked. + +“Oh, he is very good. But he is getting old and feeble now, so maybe he +won’t be there much longer. But if he were only here I am sure he would +help Tim. His prayers, I guess, would do more for him than anything +else.” + +“You haven’t forgotten what you learned at the school, I see. You still +believe in prayers, even though you have gone astray.” + +“I haven’t gone astray in the way you mean,” the girl declared as she +gave her head a slight toss. “I was sent from the school, I know, but +I have done nothing really wrong. I always remember what I was taught, +and say my prayers night and morning. Tim is a good man and he always +told me to do what was right.” + +“But he was willing for you to disobey orders, and get dismissed from +the school,” Marion reminded. + +“Oh, that was different, Miss. You see, we loved each other so much +that we couldn’t bear to be kept apart. Nothing must stand in the way +of love, so Tim said.” + +Marion was tempted to smile at the simplicity and candor of the girl. +To her, whatever Tim said was right. She longed to know more about the +young man who had won the heart of this beautiful half-breed. + +“Were you and Tim planning to get married soon?” she asked. + +“Oh, yes. He said he was going to take me outside next summer, and we +would then be married. But now this trouble has come, and Tim may die.” + +“How did it happen, Zell? You don’t mind telling me, do you?” + +“I don’t mind, Miss. But I am afraid all the time. Bill did that to +Tim, and he might do worse to me. He is a bad, bad man.” + +“Who is Bill?” + +“The man who shot Tim. He hates him because he wants me. Oh, I am +afraid of him! He follows me around. He is called ‘Bill, the Slugger’ +because he hits so hard.” + +“So he wants to marry you, does he?” Marion queried, for the first time +beginning to understand a little of the situation. + +“Yes, he does. But I hate him, and have told him so over and over +again. I slapped him in the face once, and he swore awful, called me a +‘she-devil,’ and said that he would pay me back. And that is the way he +has done it.” She motioned to the man on the bunk. “I am afraid to go +home, for I know Bill will be waiting for me.” + +“But how did he come to shoot Tim?” Marion asked. “Was it for revenge?” + +The girl looked anxiously toward the door and then at the nurse. + +“Bend your head so I can whisper in your ear,” she ordered. “There, +that’s better. I don’t want anybody to hear. Bill might be listening at +the door. It was partly for revenge and partly for fear that he shot +Tim.” + +“Fear of what?” + +“He was afraid that Tim knew too much, so he wanted to get him out of +the way. Bill picked a quarrel with him, so Tim got mad and hit him. +Oh, I found out all about it.” + +“But what was it about which Tim knew too much?” Marion questioned. + +“Can’t you guess?” the girl asked. “I don’t like to tell you because I +am afraid even to speak of it.” + +“I have no idea what it can be,” Marion replied. “You see, I know very +little about what goes on here.” + +“But it wasn’t here, Miss, that it happened. It was far away, near the +C. D. Cut-Off.” + +“Oh!” It was all that Marion said, for a new light was beginning to +dawn upon her mind. The C. D. Cut-Off! It was near there that the +terrible murder had been committed, of which her father was suspected. +Was it possible that this girl knew something about that affair? It did +seem likely, and the thought filled her with a new hope. “Was it Bill +who did that?” she asked in a very low voice. + +Zell started, and again glanced toward the door. + +“I didn’t say that, Miss,” she whispered in reply. “I don’t dare to. He +would kill me if I did.” + +“You needn’t be afraid,” Marion soothed. “The Police will not let any +one harm you. Sergeant North must know about this.” + +At these words the girl sprang to her feet, her eyes dilated with fear. +She was trembling violently, and unconsciously she stooped and caught +the nurse’s hands in hers. + +“Don’t, don’t tell him!” she begged. “Bill will know who told, and he +will kill me. I’m not afraid to die, but I want to live a while longer +to help Tim. I must go for the missionary. I shall go just as soon as +Bill leaves Big Chance.” + +“Where is Bill going?” Marion asked. + +“I don’t know for sure, but I think he is planning to go outside. Just +after the Police left, he began to get ready for a trip. He was packing +up when I came here. He has been almost frightened out of his wits ever +since the Police came.” + +“How do you know all this, Zell?” + +“Oh, I have ways of finding out. I have kept my eyes on Bill ever since +he shot Tim. He didn’t know I was watching him.” + +“So you think he is going to leave this country?” + +“I am sure of it.” + +“How will he go?” + +“By way of The Gap and across the mountains.” + +“But the Police have gone in that direction,” Marion reminded. “Why +should he go where they are?” + +“Bill has a reason,” was the low reply. + +“What reason?” + +“Can’t you guess? A bad man will stop at nothing.” + +“But the Police can stop him.” + +“Can they? You don’t know Bill, I guess. He’s a devil.” + +“But he is afraid of the Police, so you say.” + +“That is so. He is so afraid that he hates them. The missionary used +to tell us what the Bible said about the devil going around like a +roaring lion seeking whom he may devour; that he hates good people, and +tries to harm them. So that is the way with Bill. He has tried over and +over again to harm me, but I was too sharp for him. Look what he did to +Tim. And he will try to hurt the Police.” + +“What! Sergeant North?” Marion had a new interest now in Bill, the +Slugger. “Will he dare to do anything to a member of the Force?” + +Zell was quick to detect the note of anxiety in Marion’s voice, and at +once she suspected something. It drew her closer to the beautiful white +woman. + +“Do you love Sergeant North?” she frankly asked. + +Marion started and flushed at the unexpected question. But so sincere +was the girl, that she decided to throw aside all reserve and pretense. + +“Yes, I love him,” she candidly acknowledged. + +“Ah, that’s good. And does he love you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, Miss, you can understand how I feel about Tim. You +wouldn’t want that to happen to the one you love, would you?” + +“No! No!” Marion fervently declared. “It would be terrible!” + +“It would, so you and I must see that it doesn’t happen.” + +“How can we do that?” + +“Go with me to The Gap and warn the Sergeant. If we cannot overtake +him, we can go to the Police house which is not far from the school. +The Sergeant will be sure to stop there.” + +“But what about Tim?” Marion asked. “We can’t leave him here alone +until the doctor comes.” + +“My mother will stay, Miss. She is a good woman, and can do more than +I can. My father has a fine team of dogs which I know he will let me +have. He will do anything for me when he knows that I am doing what is +right. He likes Tim, and he will be glad to have the missionary come +and pray for him. Will you go?” + +“When?” + +“To-night, before Bill starts. We must get ahead of him.” + +For a few minutes Marion sat lost in deep thought. At length she arose, +and seized the girl’s hands in hers. + +“Yes, I shall go,” she firmly said. “I trust you, Zell, to lead the +way, and may God help us both.” + + + + +CHAPTER 7 + +Terrors of the Night + + +It was upon the impulse of the moment that Marion had agreed to go +to The Gap with the half-breed girl. Half an hour later she almost +repented of her hasty decision. She knew very little about Zell, and +she wondered whether she could trust to her guidance. This feeling of +doubt, however, vanished as they pulled out from Big Chance on the +first lap of their long run. It was near midnight, and the full moon +was just rounding the massive northeast shoulder of the Golden Horn. +The little mining camp was shrouded in deep shadow. Silence reigned +in each log cabin, and not a living creature was to be seen. Zell’s +father, Siwash Sam, had made speedy preparations for the trip, and had +given his daughter implicit directions, telling her which trail to +follow to shorten the journey by several miles; to be on the lookout +for storms on the mountain; and to be careful when rounding the rocky +spur of the high ridge leading to The Gap. + +“Do you think that Zell can manage, all right?” Marion asked as she +took her place upon the little toboggan. + +“Sure,” Sam replied. “Zell kin handle them dogs better than anyone +else. She’s a holy terror when she hits the trail. Ye needn’t have any +fear about her, Miss. Mebbe you’ll be as good as she is before ye git +back.” + +It did not take Marion long to find how true were the man’s words. No +sooner were they beyond the limits of Big Chance than Zell’s entire +nature seemed to change. No longer was she the quiet, timid girl +she had known in the cabin watching by Tim’s side. Instead, she was +transformed into a strong, confident guide, resourceful, alert, and +full of abounding energy. The spirit of the wild seemed to possess her. +She raced behind the toboggan, urging on the dogs, her whip cracking at +times like pistol shots. + +For miles the trail led through a sparsely wooded region where the +trees cast long sombre shadows upon the light snow. The dogs settled +into a steady jog where the ground was level, but raced like the wind +down every hill. Then Zell would jump upon the tail of the toboggan and +whoop aloud with glee to the speeding animals. They seemed to imbibe +much of the enthusiasm of their young mistress, and upon reaching +the valley below they would glance quickly around as if for a word +of approval, which was never lacking. They were four noble brutes, +huskies, of the Mackenzie River breed, accustomed to great hardships, +and possessed of marvellous endurance. Savage they were to all except +their owners. To Zell they were harmless. They obeyed her slightest +wish, and she could handle them even when her father and mother failed. +A word or a lifted hand from her had more effect than a shower of blows. + +Marion had plenty of time to think as she sat upon the toboggan, +comfortably wrapped in a big wolf-skin robe. She was glad now that +she had undertaken the journey. There was much at stake, she was well +aware, and she often wondered how it would all end. What she should +do upon reaching The Gap, she had no idea. But somewhere beyond was +her father, fleeing from place to place, with that expression of a +hunted creature in his grey eyes. She had seen it for a few seconds as +he bounded from the cabin that night into the heart of the storm. She +had thought about it much since, and it had puzzled her. And following +her father was John North, the man who had avowed his love for her. +Would they meet somewhere in that desolate wilderness? What would be +the outcome? And then there was Bill, the Slugger. Had he already +started forth upon his diabolical quest? Perhaps he would creep upon +the sergeant and the constable asleep around their camp-fire at night. +The thought was terrible. Such a thing had taken place before, she well +knew, and it might happen again. In vain she racked her brain in an +effort to devise some plan to avert a tragedy, and perhaps two. + +For several hours they continued on their way, and at last when the +summit of an extra heavy hill had been reached, Zell called a halt. +The dogs were glad to stop, so flopping down upon the trail they +began to clear particles of snow and ice from their feet with their +teeth. Nearby was a clump of fir trees, several of which were dead and +afforded excellent fuel. It did not take Zell long to prepare a fire, +over which she placed a kettle filled with snow. While this latter was +melting, she unpacked her supply of provisions and laid them out near +the fire. Marion, standing watching, was pleased at the girl’s deftness +and neatness. She knew exactly what to do, and when the meal was ready, +she served the simple repast with an admirable grace. + +“I suppose you were taught to cook at the mission school,” Marion +remarked, helping herself to a piece of moose steak which Zell had +just fried. “You certainly learned your lessons well.” + +The girl smiled, while an expression of pleasure shone in her eyes. + +“Mrs. Norris always taught us,” she explained. “We took turns cooking +at the school. I won several prizes for baking bread, and making cake. +Tim was very fond of my cooking.” + +“You were able to teach your mother many things, I suppose, when you +went back home?” + +“Not much. My mother, you see, was from the Coast, and the women there +are good cooks. She was a Chilcat Indian, and her mother taught her. +I have heard my father say that he married her because she was such a +good cook. I guess, though, he was just in fun.” + +“Does the missionary at The Gap do his own cooking now?” Marion asked. + +“I suppose he does, Miss. But I don’t believe he eats much, anyway. +He didn’t when we were at the school, as he was always thinking and +writing so much. And now that he is alone maybe he eats less, for he +must be working a great deal.” + +“What does he write about?” + +“He makes books for the Indians. He writes hymns, prayers, and the +Bible in their own language. He has taught many of them to read.” + +“Do the Indians use the books?” + +“Oh, yes. They carry them with them to their hunting-grounds, and sing +the hymns around their campfires at night.” + +“But you told me that the Indians have left the mission.” + +“In a way they have, but they like to read the Bible and sing the +hymns when out in the hills. I was with my father and mother last +winter when we came to a band of Indians a long way off. That night +they sang, men, women, and children. It was great to hear them.” + +“Does the missionary know of this?” + +“I believe he does, and it makes him hope that they have not forgotten +what he has taught them, and that some day they will go back to The +Gap.” + +For a while they thus sat and talked, Marion asking many questions, to +which the girl readily replied. They were about to resume their journey +when Zell gave a slight start, and looked anxiously back over the +trail. She listened intently, her body tense and alert. + +“What is it?” Marion somewhat anxiously asked. + +“I thought I heard a noise, Miss. It sounded like the crack of a +driver’s whip or a rifle shot. But I guess I was mistaken. One can hear +a long way up here in the hills when the air is so clear.” + +“Perhaps there is someone on the trail behind us,” Marion suggested. +“Indians travel this way, do they not?” + +“Yes, this is one of their favorite trails. But there are no Indians +coming from Big Chance to-day.” + +Nothing more was said about the matter as they continued on their way. +But Marion noticed that Zell was more quiet, and indulged in no loud +cracking of the whip. Whenever they had reached the top of a hill or +had crossed an inland lake, or a stretch of wild meadow, she noticed +that the girl would stop, and look keenly back over the way they had +just come. This happened so often that she became uneasy. The intense +silence of the land was affecting her, causing her to become nervous. +A feeling of impending calamity stole into her soul, which try as she +might she could not banish. It was with her all through the short +winter day. She tried to throw it off by running with Zell behind the +sled. This helped some, but the feeling still remained. + +It was a bright day, and the dogs made excellent progress. They loped +forward, anxious for camping time when they would receive their food. +Marion was fascinated with the scenery of the country. Off in the +distance rose great snow-enshrouded mountains, aglow with the light of +the sun. Above, towered the dazzling peak of the Golden Horn, which +seemed so near, yet she knew it was leagues away. At times the trail +led along the side of the mountain where they could look down upon the +pointed tops of the trees in the valley below, resembling countless +spears poised heavenward. + +Only once did they halt to rest, eat a frugal meal, and then on and +up again. Marion was becoming weary, although Zell seemed as fresh as +ever. Slowly the sun sank westward, and at length disappeared below +a far-off peak. Ere long darkness stole over the land, and night +approached with rapid strides. Soon it would be camping time, and Zell +was watching for a good place to pass the night when a sound fell upon +their ears, which caused Marion to give a gasp of fright, and turn +impulsively to her companion. + +“What is that?” she asked, her body trembling. + +“A wolf,” was the quiet reply. “We must make camp at once, and build a +big fire. Ah, here is a good place with plenty of wood.” + +In a few minutes the dogs were unharnessed, the fire built, and the +blazing flames leaping high into the air. + +From time to time came that long-drawn, blood-curdling howl, the cry +of the leader to the pack. It seemed nearer now, and Marion shuddered +with apprehension. Even Zell’s face expressed her concern. From a +pocket in her dress she brought forth a revolver, and examined it +carefully. Marion had no idea that the girl carried such a weapon, and +it surprised her. + +“Do you often have use for that?” she asked. + +“It is handy sometimes,” was the reply. “One never knows what might +happen. There are two-legged wolves in this country, and I fear them +more than I do the four-legged ones. A girl has to protect herself, you +know.” + +Marion was beginning to realize something of the undercurrent of life +in the North. Hitherto, she had known only the surface. There were +deeps which she had not sounded, but of which her companion seemed +fully aware. She said nothing, however, but assisted in building the +little lean-to which would be their abode for the night. When this had +been erected, fir boughs laid down, and the blankets and the wolf-skin +robe laid out, she was glad to rest. No longer did the howl of the +wolves sound upon their ears. The fire was bright, and the snug abode +comfortable. + +After they had eaten their supper and the dogs were fed, they wrapped +themselves up for the night. Both were tired, so it was not long before +they were sound asleep. The dogs curled themselves up near the fire and +enjoyed the genial heat. Silence reigned, save for the crackling of +the burning sticks, or the occasional snapping of a frost-stung tree. +The night was cold, although not a breath of wind stirred the trees. +The great vault of heaven was thickly studded with stars, for the moon +had not risen to pale their glory. The Northern Lights sent out their +wavering streamers as they marched and countermarched in silent, +mysterious battalions. + +And while the tired ones slept, gaunt, hairy forms, with fiery lolling +tongues, and blazing eyes, loped along the upper ridge, and approached +the camp. The wolves were hungry, for food was scarce. Only in an +extreme emergency did these somewhat cowardly creatures venture near +human abodes. It was the dogs which attracted them now. They were in +desperate straits, as no deer, moose, or any living thing had crossed +their path for days. Only when starving would they unite, for strength +and safety lay in numbers. There were but twelve of them thus banded +together, but mad with hunger, they were a pack to be dreaded. + +The dogs scented them, and their savage growls and whines of fear +aroused the sleeping women. Zell was first awake, and in an instant +realized what was the matter. The fire was burning low, so seizing +several dry sticks she threw them upon the hot coals. In another minute +Marion was on her feet, looking fearfully to the right among the trees +where the wolves were gathered. As the fire increased in strength, +and the bright flames illumined the camping grounds for several rods +around, she was enabled to detect dim, slinking forms not far away. + +“Will they attack us?” she asked, laying a nervous hand upon Zell’s arm. + +“Not likely now,” was the reply. “They are after the dogs, but this +fire will keep them back. Look at that big, bold brute there,” and she +pointed to a large wolf which had ventured threateningly near. “I’m +going to try a shot at him.” + +Drawing forth her revolver, she took a quick steady aim, and fired. A +yell of pain split the night, as the brute leaped into the air, and +vanished into the darkness. + +“I hit him,” Zell exulted, while a smile wreathed her face. “I wish I +had my rifle, then I could easily settle the whole pack.” + +“Do you suppose you killed him?” Marion asked. + +“Oh, no, he was too far away. If I had killed him, the rest of the +wolves would be eating him up by now. I must not waste any more +cartridges upon them at that distance, as I shall need them if they +come too close.” + +For some time, which seemed to Marion very long, they watched and +waited for the next move on the part of the lurking brutes. The dogs +huddled together close to the little lean-to, either whining with +fear, or growling with anger. Their implacable enemies were just +beyond that fire-lit circle, and they knew only too well the object +of their visit. The dogs were ever ready and willing to fight with +one another, for there was always a chance to win. But against those +gaunt, savage, and famine-stricken fiends of the wilderness they would +be helpless. Whenever the wolves approached nearer, they shrank closer +to the women for protection. Bolder now became the enemy, and although +Zell fired two more shots into their midst, it only deterred them +for a few minutes. They circled the encampment several times, always +drawing nearer, especially back of the lean-to. The situation was +becoming critical, for at any minute they might hurl themselves upon +the helpless ones crouching near the fire. Zell kept her revolver in +readiness, although she was well aware how little she could do should a +rush ensue. + + + + +CHAPTER 8 + +Hugo to the Rescue + + +Hugo, the trapper, was late, and he was speeding along with great +swinging strides. He was alone, for he had left his dog fastened in his +little cabin up on the mountain side. He had a reason for this, as his +mission that day had been of extreme importance, and complete silence +had to be maintained. He was in no enviable frame of mind as he strode +through the night, and any enemy, whether man or beast, attempting to +interfere with him would have found in him a desperate opponent. He had +been watching another trail that day and what he had seen filled his +heart with a burning rage, mingled with a nameless fear. He felt as +he did that night when he had bounded from the cabin into the storm. +Notwithstanding his strength and astuteness, he always shrank from the +Police, considering them his bitterest enemies. So that day as he had +watched forms speeding along behind their dogs, he knew who they were, +and surmised the mission upon which they were bent. + +He had swung up from the valley and was about to cross the trail, known +as the “Cut-Off,” between Big Chance and The Gap, when a shot arrested +his attention, causing him to stop abruptly. The report came from +the left, and keenly he peered in that direction. Seeing and hearing +nothing more, he moved cautiously forward. Not a sound did he make as +he glided among the trees, keeping a short distance from the trail +above. Ere long he again stopped, for a glimmer of light fell upon +his eyes. Then he heard the snarling of dogs, and at once realised +that trouble of some kind was just ahead. Slowly advancing, the light +became brighter, and a few more steps showed him the women crouching +near the lean-to with the dogs huddled at their feet. In an instant he +grasped the meaning of the situation. His rifle, already in his hands, +he gripped more firmly, and waited. He could not see the wolves but he +knew that they were there. When, however, Zell fired the second and the +third shots, he caught a glimpse of the brutes as they fell back with +yelps and angry snarls. + +Who the women were Hugo could not tell, not being able to see their +faces, which were partly hidden by the lean-to. He surmised, however, +that they were Indians, and he wondered what had become of the men. +Noticing that the wolves were becoming bolder, and evidently preparing +for an attack, he moved a little nearer, stepping somewhat to the right +for a better sight. As he did so he gave a start, for at once Marion’s +face was exposed to view. In an instant he recognized her, and the form +of his countenance changed. The defiant light faded from his eyes and +was replaced by an expression of deep concern. For a few seconds he +stood there as still as the trees around him. What he saw stirred his +inmost depths, and brought back memories of other days. She was his own +child, yet he must not go to her. All he could do was to protect her +from those brutes of the forest. + +He was aroused by a cry of fear. Glancing to the right he saw a great +wolf advancing within the ring of light, flanked to the right and left +by the rest of the pack. Zell fired another shot, but missed. The +leader drew back with a savage snarl, and was about to spring forward +when Hugo brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired. With a wild +yell the wolf leaped into the air, and dropped upon the ground. Taken +aback, his followers hesitated and one by one they fell before the +unerring shots of the unseen marksman. Not until five had fallen did +the rest retreat, and then slowly and wrathfully they drew away among +the darkness of the forest. But Hugo’s blood was now up and he feared +the wolves as if they were so many kittens. He stepped quickly toward +them, refilling the magazine of his rifle as he did so. He could see +their slinking forms now, and again into their midst he poured messages +of death. Yells of pain and baffled rage followed each shot. The few +remaining wolves faced the trapper, but ere they could spring, they, +too, were rolling in the snow. It was a veritable carnage of death from +which only one brute escaped by leaping aside and dashing off pell-mell +among the trees. + +When the fight was over, a grim smile overspread Hugo’s face. Then he +turned toward the surprised and staring women. + +He was upon the point of stepping forward and calming their fears by +telling them that the danger was past. He changed his mind, however, +drew back a few paces among the trees, and stood with his eyes fixed +intently upon Marion’s face. A great longing was tugging at his heart +such as he had not known for years. He recalled the days he had played +with her in his old happy home. She had changed since then, but she was +his child. How often he had thought of her during his wanderings and +long lonely night vigils. In fact, she had been seldom out of his mind. +His affection for her had saved him from developing into a brute, +causing him to perform numerous deeds of humanity, the surprise of +many people. So standing there, hidden by the trees and the night, he +feasted his eyes upon her face. After a while he turned away, reached +the trail, and sped rapidly along in the direction of The Gap. At +length he turned aside, plunged through a heavy thicket of firs and +jack-pines, crossed a narrow strip of wild meadow, and climbed a steep +hill until he came to a small cabin tucked away amidst the trees. He +opened the door and entered. He then lighted a couple of candles, +and built a fire in the little sheet-iron camping-stove. The dog was +most profuse in its welcome, leaping upon him, and giving expression +to yelps of delight. Hugo fondled the animal, his eyes beaming with +pleasure. + +“Good old Pedro,” he said. “You missed me, eh? And I missed you. But +strange things are afoot these days, old boy, so we must be careful.” + +When supper was over and the dog fed, Hugo lighted his pipe, stretched +himself upon the bunk near the fire, and gave himself up to anxious +thought. He reviewed the events of the day, especially his recent +encounter with the wolves. What were the women doing there? he asked +himself over and over again. And where were they going? What could +bring Marion so far into the wilderness? It must be of more than +ordinary importance, for he had never known a white woman to venture +such a distance from Kynox, especially in the dead of winter. The more +he thought about it, the more disturbed he became. Had it been any +other woman it would not have mattered so much to him. But she was his +own daughter, and his heart was deeply stirred. + +For over an hour Hugo lay there wrapt in thought. He then rose to his +feet and paced up and down the small room. Several times he went to +the door and looked out in the direction where the women were camped. +An uneasy feeling was tugging at his heart which he could not banish. +He called himself a fool, blew out the candles, and threw himself down +again upon the bunk. But he could not sleep. His thoughts were ever +down the trail as he pictured those two women alone in the night. +Perhaps more wolves had returned, for he knew that several packs were +on the move of late. And if not wolves, there were creatures more to +be feared where helpless women were concerned. It was most unlikely +that men would be prowling around, he reasoned. But who could tell? The +absence of those women must surely be known at Big Chance, and there +were men there capable of any deed of villainy. + +At length he sprang to his feet, pulled on his heavy outer jacket +and cap, seized his snow-shoes, and ordering the dog to stay behind, +he left the cabin, and hurried down the trail. It took him but a +few minutes to come near the camping-ground, where he moved most +cautiously, peering keenly ahead. Although he approached most silently, +the dogs scented his presence. They leaped to their feet and growled +ferociously. Hugo paid little heed to the brutes, his attention being +centred upon a lone figure huddled before the fire. Instinctively he +realised that something was the matter, so stepping into the circle of +light he rapidly approached. Marion saw him coming, recognized him at +once, and with a cry of joy sprang to her feet. So overcome was she +that she tottered and would have fallen had not Hugo leaped forward +and caught her in his arms. Just for a few luxurious seconds he held +her close, and then laid her tenderly upon the wolf-skin robe. Marion +was deadly pale, and she was trembling violently. The strain of the +night had unnerved her, and this sudden and unexpected meeting with her +father was more than she could endure. As she lay there, she kept her +eyes fixed upon his face. Then her lips moved as if she would speak. +This Hugo noted, and he bent toward her. + +“What is the matter?” he asked. “Why are you alone? Where is that girl? +You seem almost frightened to death.” + +“And so I am,” was the low reply. “Oh, this has been a terrible night! +We were attacked by wolves, and when they were about to spring upon us, +somebody shot them, and saved us.” + +“I know all about that,” and Hugo nodded his head. “I happened along +just at the right moment.” + +“Was it really you?” Marion asked in surprise, drawing herself up with +an effort to a sitting position. “And have you seen Zell? Do you know +where she is?” + +“The girl who was with you?” Hugo asked. “Where did she go?” + +“She went just a short distance over there after some dry wood,” Marion +explained, motioning to the right. “But she hasn’t come back, and I am +afraid that something has happened to her. Perhaps the wolves caught +her.” + +“Didn’t you hear any noise?” + +“Not a sound.” + +“Did you call to her?” + +“Oh, yes. I called to her for a long time, but could get no answer.” + +“Four-legged wolves didn’t get her,” Hugo emphatically declared, while +a fierce expression leaped into his eyes. “She would have given a cry +of distress if they had.” + +“Why, what could have happened to her, then?” + +“That remains to be seen. There are worse creatures than four-legged +wolves prowling around at times, especially where attractive women are +concerned.” + +Marion understood the meaning of these words, and her thoughts flashed +at once to Bill, the Slugger. Could it be possible that he had been +following them, and had seized the half-breed girl and carried her +off ere she could give a cry of warning? She recalled what Zell had +told her about Bill, and his hatred to Tim. She felt weaker and more +helpless than ever as she thought of these things. + +“What are we to do?” she asked in a despairing voice. Then in a few +words she confessed her fears to her father. + +“And it was Bill who shot Tim, you say?” he asked. + +“That is what Zell told me. Out of revenge, so I understand.” + +“Was there any other reason?” + +“I believe so.” + +Hugo remained silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. Marion watched +him closely, and tried to see in his face the resemblance she had known +and loved years before. She thought of all that he had meant to her and +to her mother, and how he had provided for them through the years. And +how he must have suffered the long separation from those so dear to +him. What mental agony must have been his. And suppose he had done what +was wrong, he was her father. A sudden rush of affection swept upon her +as she gazed upon that stern, sad face. The deep wrinkles upon his brow +told their own silent tale. No matter what he had done, he had surely +paid the price over and over again. + +“Father,” she cried, impetuously reaching out her arms. “I want you as +I used to want you as a child.” + +For an instant only did Hugo hesitate. He then stooped and allowed +Marion to encircle his neck with her arms, and impress a kiss upon his +forehead. His great form trembled and his eyes were misty. In another +minute he freed himself, stepped back, and stood erect before his +daughter. + +“You should not do that,” he told her. + +“Do what?” + +“Kiss me. Am I not an outcast? Have I not been hounded from place to +place? Are not the Police always watching to seize me?” + +“But you are my father,” Marion reminded, “and no matter what you have +done I can never forget that.” + +Hugo was about to reply, but words seemed suddenly to fail him. He +stood staring off into the blackness of the forest as if he beheld +something there. + +“Won’t you come with me?” Marion asked, wondering at his silence. “We +can leave this country, go outside, and you can begin life all over +again.” + +“No, no!” Hugo fiercely replied. Then his manner changed. “You are +tired, worn out. Come with me to my little cabin, and when you have +rested we will talk about this. I have kept you here too long already.” + +“But what about Zell?” Marion asked. “She might come back.” + +“Not likely,” was the reply. “Anyway, we can’t help her just now.” + + + + +CHAPTER 9 + +Stains on the Snow + + +Marion was glad to leave the lean-to and follow her father. She +started aside and gave voice to a slight cry of fear as the toe of her +moccasined foot touched the body of a wolf stiffening upon the snow. +The forest seemed filled with horrible things, dead and alive. And +somewhere in their secret depths was Zell, the beautiful girl to whom +she had become so deeply attached. Was she alive? or was she, too, +lying upon the cold snow like the wolves around her? But perhaps she +was alive, and longing to die. The thought was terrible. Why were base +men allowed to roam at large, to prey upon helpless and innocent women +and girls? She knew that it was permitted in towns and cities, so could +it be otherwise on the ragged edge of civilisation? How she longed for +the strength of a man, her father’s, for instance, that she might go +about redressing human wrongs. + +She thought of these things as she struggled bravely along the trail. +She had no snow-shoes, and she could have made very little progress +without her father’s strong supporting arm. She did not wish to give +up, but ere long she felt that she could go no farther. A great +weakness swept upon her, which forced her to sink down upon the snow +with a weary gasp. For a second Hugo hardly knew what to do. Then +without a word he stooped, picked her up boldly and bore her speedily +forward. Like a tired child she lay in those strong encircling arms. +How often he had carried her when she was a child, and she had often +admired his strength then. But now he seemed a veritable giant as he +strode among the trees, crossed the wild meadow, and ascended the hill +to the cabin. + +In a few minutes Marion was lying upon the bunk. How good it was to +be there, and how restful. She felt that she could sleep forever. It +did not take Hugo long to stir up the few live coals in the stove, +boil some water, and prepare a cup of tea. This, together with some +ptarmigan broth he also warmed, proved most refreshing. The heat of the +room was conducive to sleep, and before long she was in a sound slumber. + +An expression of satisfaction shone upon Hugo’s face as he watched +his sleeping daughter. He filled and lighted his pipe, and sat down +upon a block of wood and leaned back against the wall on the opposite +side of the stove. He could not see the girl’s face, as the one candle +which was burning gave but a feeble flickering light. But he kept his +eyes fixed in her direction, and his thoughts were deep. He was really +happier than he had been for years. His own daughter was with him, the +one for whom his heart had been crying out in all his lonely wanderings. + +Throughout the rest of the night Hugo kept watch. He prepared and ate +his frugal breakfast, and fed the dog. As daylight was stealing over +the land, he left the cabin and made his way back to the encampment. +The dogs were still there, huddled upon the robes in the lean-to. The +wolves were lying just where they had fallen. Hugo glanced at the gaunt +brutes as if appraising their worth. + +“If I had time,” he mused, “I would take you to the cabin and strip +off your pelts. But I’ve got other matters of more importance now.” He +then touched the nearest wolf with his foot. “You didn’t expect this, +I reckon, when you made the attack last night. It was mighty lucky I +happened to come along when I did. It’s a pity I wasn’t on hand when +that two-legged devil was around. There may have been more than one, +though, but that wouldn’t have made any difference. I guess I could +have settled the whole bunch. I hope to goodness I’ll run across them +before long.” + +The dogs snarled as he approached the lean-to. But he drove them back, +and gathered up the robe and blankets. He left them there and began to +examine the environs of the camping-place, especially in the direction +the half-breed girl had gone after the dry wood. The wolves had beaten +down the snow so it was difficult for him to find any clue. Several +times he encompassed the place, moving in a wider circle each time +until he came to the edge of the untrampled snow. He had almost reached +the trail when his attention was arrested by several dry sticks which +had evidently been dropped in a hurry. + +And right here he saw moccasined footprints, large and small. Close +by, the snow was trampled down, as if a struggle had taken place. This +spot he examined most carefully, hoping to obtain some clue to aid +him in his search for the missing girl. He was about to abandon his +search when his right foot upturned a piece of cloth which had been +hidden by the snow. Eagerly he seized this and inspected it closely. +It was merely a small fragment, and as near as he could make out it +had belonged to the flap of a man’s cap for the protection of his +ears. To Hugo it had a world of meaning. He pictured the half-breed +girl struggling furiously in the arms of her assailant, tearing at +the man’s face and head, and ripping away a portion of his cap in her +desperation. A growl of rage rumbled up in Hugo’s throat as he thought +of the foul attack upon a helpless girl. Suppose it had been his own +daughter! What if Marion were now in the clutches of that inhuman +brute, whoever he might be! He turned and looked off toward the right. +Placing the piece of cloth carefully in a pocket of his jacket, he +walked slowly toward the trail, keeping his eyes fixed intently upon +the footprints, which here were only a man’s size. Reaching the trail, +he saw that the steps led in the direction of Big Chance. How far had +the villain gone? he asked himself. No doubt he had a team of dogs +near, and by now he was far away with his captive. It was most unlikely +that he would take the girl back to the little mining camp where +her father was living. He knew Siwash Sam, a man who minded his own +business, but when once aroused his wrath was terrible. Only a devil or +a madman would think of interfering with his only daughter, the pride +of his life. But Bill, the Slugger, was both, he was well aware. He +was a devil in badness, and his passion for the beautiful half-breed +girl had turned his brain. Hugo knew of other deeds of infamy he had +committed, and had so cleverly covered up his trail as to escape the +far-reaching hands of the Police. But now he should not escape, was +the trapper’s determination. He himself would be the avenger of the +innocent if the Law did not get him first. + +The thought of the Law caused Hugo to look quickly around. Then he gave +a sarcastic grunt as he hurried along the trail. + +“Hugo, you fool,” he muttered, “you better look after your own skin. +If you’re not careful something may happen to you.” + +His mind turned to his daughter and an anxious expression overspread +his face. What was he to do with her? He longed to have her with him, +but under the circumstances that was out of the question. He thought +of the missionary at The Gap. If he could get there, perhaps she could +live in the mission house for a time, at least. He was sure he could +make it worth while for the missionary to look after his daughter. He +raised his right hand and pressed it against his breast. Yes, the ring +was safe, and it would help him if necessary. He recalled the day he +had found it in the crack of the floor in that cabin on the bank of the +river. How differently matters had turned out from what he had planned. + +Thinking thus as he hurried forward, he ere long came to a heavy clump +of trees. He had gone part way through when he came upon the site of +an abandoned camping-place. He felt the ashes, and found them cold. +He next examined the beaten-down snow and saw where the dogs had been +lying. He studied a number of moccasined footprints, and saw again +several small impressions, together with large ones. He was certain +now that they were made by the half-breed girl, and that her captor +had camped with her here. His eyes suddenly rested upon the peculiar +marks upon the packed-down snow a few feet from the fire. Stooping, +he saw that it was blood. A chip lying near was also stained with +frozen drops. Was it human blood? he asked himself, or was it from the +bleeding feet of the dogs? He banished this latter idea, however, after +he had looked carefully around where the dogs had been lying. There +were no signs of blood there, so he knew that the stains near the fire +were made by the blood of human beings. What had happened? he wondered. +Had a tragedy been enacted there in the night? What had become of the +campers? + +For a while Hugo remained there, searching for some further clue. +But nothing could he find to aid him in his search. Silence reigned +around him. Far off the peaks of the great mountains were aglow with +the morning sun. Above him the Golden Horn was agleam with surpassing +glory. The entire landscape seemed fresh and joyous after its bath +of night. But Hugo noticed none of these wonders. His thoughts dwelt +upon more serious things. He was thinking deeply, and his brow knit +with perplexity. There was a certain course he wished to pursue, yet +he felt unable to carry it out. A restraining influence overshadowed +him, pressing hard upon his very soul. It was no new battle he was +fighting, as he had been contending fiercely for long years. It was a +struggle between the brute nature within him, and the call to higher +things. At times the former had seemed to sway his entire being, and +on such occasions he had been a terror to man and beast. But alone +in the silence of the great wilderness the nobleness within him had +always risen to battle with the demon that would drag him down. And now +another element in the person of his daughter had come to strengthen +his manhood and his desire for a new mode of life. Would it not be +better to leave the trails, he reasoned, face the world boldly, and +if punishment according to the legal code were necessary, to bear it +without a murmur? + +As he thus stood there battling with these conflicting emotions, his +keen ears caught a disturbing sound up the trail. He listened intently, +his entire body now fully alert. That it was a dog-team, he soon +became certain, and it was rapidly approaching. Forgotten in an instant +was Hugo’s half-formed resolve to face the world boldly, and begin +life anew. The habits of years had taken too firm a grip upon him to +be shuffled off at will like a suit of clothes. Like a subtle poison +the spirit of determined antagonism had permeated his entire being, +affecting his every thought and action. + +With an angry growl he sprang from the trail, crashed through the +trees, and made his way to the base of the hill not far away. Here he +paused and looked back. Not being able to see anything owing to the +intervening trees, he ascended the hill until he came to a large rock +behind which he crouched. From this place of concealment he could see +fairly well all that took place on the trail below. Neither did he have +long to wait, for in a few minutes a dog-team hove in sight, and pulled +up near the abandoned camping-place. The two men who accompanied the +dogs he at once recognized as Sergeant North and Constable Rolfe. He +shrank back a little more behind the great rock, fearful lest he should +be observed. His respect for the Police was now greater than ever. +The day before he had watched them as they sped along the main trail +between Big Chance and The Gap. He had smiled grimly then, satisfied +that they were on the wrong scent. Now, however, they were right before +him, and but for his keenness of hearing and quickness of action they +would have been upon him before he could escape. To accomplish that +journey they must have travelled all night. But why had they changed +their course? That thought filled him with an intense uneasiness. His +heart throbbed with hatred as he watched them. How easily he could +pick them off. Only two shots would be necessary, for he knew that +he could not miss. He clutched hard his rifle, and the forefinger of +his mittenless right hand toyed with the trigger. One firm pressure, +then the snick of the breech-bolt, a second reverberating report and +all would be over. It was a tempting situation. But Hugo hesitated. He +might kill those two men, but what would be gained? There were others +to take their place, for back of them was the entire Force, together +with the strength of the whole British Empire if necessary. He thought, +too, of Marion. Why should he bring more disgrace upon her? If he had +only himself to consider it would be different. It did not matter much +what happened to himself. He felt that he was of little use in the +world, anyway. + +Slowly his grasp lessened upon the rifle, and he replaced the mitten +upon his uncovered hand. Then fearful lest the Police should notice his +tracks and follow him, he moved cautiously from the rock, slipped among +the thicket of jack-pines, and sped rapidly away. + + + + +CHAPTER 10 + +Lost + + +Zell had stooped and was picking up the dry wood she had gathered that +evening, when she was suddenly seized and a mittened hand placed firmly +over her mouth. Almost maddened with fright, she struggled desperately +to free herself, and to cry for help. But she was powerless in the +strong arms which held her fast. As she was being borne off, she fought +like a wildcat, tearing at her captor’s face and cap, and clawing at +his throat. But her efforts were all in vain, for she was carried +rapidly away, and only when a camping-place was reached by the side of +the trail was that pressing hand released from her mouth. Then by the +light of the fire she saw that her captor was none other than Bill, +the Slugger. Panting, she lay upon the bed of fir boughs where he had +placed her. A triumphant light shone upon the man’s face as he stepped +back to view the girl. + +“Well, what d’ye think of that for a job? Neat, wasn’t it?” + +Zell’s fear had now given place to anger, and her eyes blazed as she +sprang to her feet and faced the villain. + +“You coward!” she cried. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” + +“H’m, I’m not worryin’ about that, since I’ve got you. If I couldn’t +git ye one way, I had to try some other plan.” + +“You wouldn’t talk so big if my father were here.” + +“Mebbe I wouldn’t, me love. But he ain’t here, so he don’t matter. But, +say, Zell, why can’t ye like me? I’m crazy about you, an’ if ye’ll +only let me, I’ll do well by ye. I’ll take ye outside an’ show ye the +wonderful sights, an’ buy ye no end of purty dresses, an’ sich things +as women like. I swear I will.” + +He stepped toward her as if to clasp her in his arms. But Zell drew +back and stood on the defensive. + +“Don’t touch me,” she warned. “I hate you, Bill, and you know it. If +you love me, why did you shoot Tim?” + +“’Cause I love ye, of course. I couldn’t bear to see anyone else have +ye. That’s why.” + +“Well, if you thought you could get me by shooting Tim, then you were +mistaken. I love Tim as much as I hate you, so there.” + +“Ain’t ye afraid to say sich a thing, Zell?” the man asked, while an +ugly light leaped into his eyes. “Can’t ye see that yer at my mercy +now, an’ that I kin do what I like with ye?” + +“Can you?” The girl asked the question boldly, but her heart was +beating wildly. She realised only too well how true were the man’s +words. Then she suddenly thought of something tucked away in a little +pocket in the bosom of her dress. It gave her new encouragement. Yes, +she would shoot him if necessary, although she did not wish to commit +murder. She knew that he always carried a revolver, and could use it +with lightning rapidity. She must act with extreme caution. + +“Zell, I don’t want to use force,” the man said, “an’ so I ask ye +once more if ye’ll be mine. If ye will, then we’ll go an’ git the +missionary at The Gap to hitch us up.” + +“Never!” The girl’s voice rang out clear and defiant upon the still +night air. She knew the man standing before her, and was fully aware +that he was not sincere in his promises. He wanted her just to satisfy +his passion, and then he would throw her aside as he had done a number +of Indian girls he had deceived. She must stand her ground, and not +give in to him. + +As Zell uttered her stern refusal, the man calmly folded his arms +and watched her. His greedy eyes took in her beauty, and the varying +expressions upon her face, and the firm, lithe outlines of her tense +body. He smiled, feeling certain that nothing now could come between +him and the object of his desire. + +“So that’s final, is it?” he at length asked. + +“It is,” was the firm reply. + +“Well, then you’ll have to put up with the result. You are mine, and by +G--, nothing can keep you from me.” + +He sprang suddenly forward as if to seize her. But Zell was watching, +and quick as a cat she leaped aside, eluded his grasp, and sprang out +upon the trail. With an angry oath, the man dashed after her. At times +Zell glanced fearfully back, and noted that her pursuer was steadily +gaining upon her. At length, seeing that she could not escape by +flight, she suddenly stopped, wheeled, tore the revolver from her bosom +and fired. With a yell of pain the man dropped upon the trail. In an +instant he was on his knees, his revolver in his hand, blazing madly +and wildly at the girl, once more fleeing for her life. Only when the +firing ceased, and Zell was certain that she was at a safe distance, +did she venture to stop and look back. She could see Bill on the +trail, upon his hands and knees, creeping, so it seemed to her, back to +the fire. She breathed a sigh of relief, and tucked the revolver away +in the bosom of her dress. A smile of triumph overspread her face as +she thought of Bill’s defeat, and the unexpected outcome of his plans. +She was glad, though, that she had not killed him. But she must have +wounded him severely to cause him to cry out as he did, and give up the +pursuit. + +The smile of triumph, however, passed swiftly from her face as she +realised the difficult position in which she was placed. She must +get back to the white woman as soon as possible. But she did not +dare to return by the trail, for that would mean passing close to +the man she had defied and wounded. He would make short work of her, +she was certain, should she come within range of his revolver. The +only plan left was to leave the trail, and circle around toward her +own camping-place. She believed that she could do this without great +difficulty, for most of the time she could travel among the big trees +where the snow would not be so deep. If she only had her snow-shoes it +would be an easy matter. She knew how anxious the nurse must be about +her, so she was anxious to get back as soon as possible. + +With another glance to make sure that Bill was not following her, she +left the trail, plunged through the snow, and headed for the big trees +beyond. It took her some time to do this, for the snow was deep and at +times she was forced to stop and rest. But when she at last reached the +heavy timber she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt safer now, being +certain that it would not take her long to make her way to the camp. +The walking was much easier here, and she sped on her way, gliding +noiselessly among the great trees. Her only fear now was of wolves, and +she shuddered whenever she thought of the brutes which had attacked +them that night. She wondered who had shot them, and why he had not +made himself known. It could not have been Bill, as he would have said +something about it. No, it must have been someone else, and she racked +her brain in an effort to solve the mystery. + +Although Zell was well accustomed to the trails, she knew very little +about travelling through a trackless forest. Her years of training at +the mission school had not prepared her for this phase of life. It was +one thing to bound behind a team of dogs along a well-beaten trail, but +it was an altogether different matter to find her way without a single +guiding mark. She did not realise this, however, as she sped forward, +expecting every minute to come in sight of the camp. She pictured the +joy upon the nurse’s face when she saw her, and what a story she would +have to tell. + +After she had travelled for some time and the camping-place had not +been reached, she became somewhat anxious. She passed out of the +heavy timber and came to the side of a hill where the trees were +small and scarce. Here the snow was much deeper, making her progress +difficult. The moon was shining big and bright, so she could see for +some distance. Ahead, off to the left, was a thick wood, and there, so +she believed, she would find the nurse. When she reached the place she +was very weary, and could just drag herself out of the deep snow to +the foot of a large pine. After she had rested a while, she continued +on her way, moving slowly among the trees. Here there was little +light, for the moon was not able to brighten those sombre depths. +More anxious now than ever, she strained her eyes for sight of the +blazing fire, as she felt sure that the nurse would not allow it to go +out. How interminable seemed that forest. The cold was intense, and +notwithstanding her vigorous exercise, she shivered. She longed to lie +down and rest, but such a thing she did not dare to do, knowing full +well what that would mean. + +At length, however, she was forced to sit down upon the root of a tree. +She knew now that she was lost, and the thought filled her heart with +terror. She had heard her father tell of men who had been lost in the +forest and had never been heard of again. Would the same thing happen +to her? she asked herself. No, it must not be. She would not die there +alone. She would struggle on, and fight her way out. + +But she soon found what it really meant to carry out such a resolve. It +was a vast, desolate wilderness in which she was wandering, and she was +but a speck creeping among the crowding trees. An hour passed and still +Zell dragged forward her weary body. No longer was she the keen, active +girl who had left Big Chance but a short time before. Instead, she was +a pathetic creature, reaching out appealing arms, calling, ever calling +for aid which did not come. Once she had dropped upon her knees in the +snow and prayed earnestly for deliverance. She remembered that the +missionary had often told the girls at the school that God would hear +their prayers. She had prayed rather indifferently of late, but she now +prayed as she had never prayed in her life. It brought her some comfort +as she rose from her knees and staggered onward. But she could not make +much progress. She was completely bewildered. She knew that she could +follow her trail back, but she had not the strength. Ere long she +forgot even this as she floundered around in the snow. Strange noises +sounded in her ears. She was sure that she heard the howling of wolves, +and she shivered with fear. At times she was fighting with an imaginary +enemy, and again shouting at the top of her voice. All sense of time +and place was blotted out for her now as she stood knee-deep in the +snow. She did not heed the merciless cold, nor the desolation of her +surroundings. She was in another world of strange fancies. Sometimes +she was with Tim, calling him endearing names, or pleading with him to +come to her. Then she was at the mission school, talking and laughing +with her companions. + +But this excitement only tended to weaken her already tired body. Ere +long her knees gave way beneath her. She sank upon the snow, and made +no effort to rise. And there she lay, babbling of other days, while the +pitiless cold struck deeper and deeper into her chilled body. + + + + +CHAPTER 11 + +Where Strength Counts + + +When Hugo left the rock and fled from the presence of his enemies, he +wished to get as far away as possible. But before doing so, he was +determined to see Marion. He could not leave her alone in the cabin, +so if she agreed he would endeavor to take her to The Gap. He would be +running a great risk, he was well aware, but he could not do otherwise. +How he longed to go to her, speed with her to Swift Stream and thence +outside. But he knew that would have to be postponed for a while, and +perhaps for all time. + +He thought of this as he hurried on his way beneath the brow of the +high hill, taking special care to keep out of sight of the Police. When +he was sure that he would not be observed, he cautiously approached the +trail, sped across it, and plunged into the thick woods on the lower +side. Had he gone a couple of hundred yards farther on he would have +come across the straggling trail made by the half-breed girl when she, +too, had sought the shelter of those friendly trees. Of this Hugo was +totally unaware as he moved rapidly forward. At times he was but a few +rods from where Zell had travelled. Had Hugo swung a little more to the +right, and the girl somewhat more to the left, their trails would have +met, and how much that would have meant to one, at least. + + “Oh, the little more, and how much it is! + And the little less, and what worlds away.” + +To Hugo the trackless wilds were as an open book, and he was as sure +of his course as if on a well-beaten trail. Years of experience had +developed his sense of direction, and he pressed steadily onward +without the slightest hesitation. It was only when he came near his +cabin did he slacken his speed and peer cautiously forward and around. +Silence reigned everywhere as he stepped from his snow-shoes, pushed +gently open the door and entered. The dog bounded to meet him, but Hugo +motioning him to be still, looked toward the bunk. Marion was lying +where he had left her, but she was now awake. She smiled as she saw her +father standing there. Then she sat quickly up, an anxious expression +showing in her eyes. + +“Did you find Zell?” she asked. “Oh, I know you didn’t,” she added. +“She is not with you.” + +“I didn’t find her,” Hugo replied. “I have proof, though, that she was +carried off by someone.” + +“Oh!” It was all that Marion said, as she waited for further +information. + +In a few words Hugo told her what he had discovered, the signs +of struggle in the snow, and the blood marks by the ashes of the +camping-place. + +“Oh, what can we do?” Marion asked, slipping from the bunk and standing +before her father. “Can we not follow her, and rescue her from her +captors?” + +Before Hugo could reply, a bark from the dog, which had gone outside, +startled him, causing him to bound to the door. For a second he +listened intently, and when he turned around Marion was surprised at +the fierce look in his eyes. + +“The Police!” he growled. “They’re coming up the trail! I must be off +at once. They’ll look after you.” + +“Oh, don’t go,” Marion pleaded. “I don’t want to lose you. Why are you +so afraid of the Police?” + +Hugo made no reply. He left the room, stepped into his snow-shoes, +and ordering the dog to remain behind, plunged into a thicket of firs +and jack-pines on the upper side of the cabin. His heart was filled +with bitterness and hatred as he moved forward. For years he had been +fleeing from the Police, ever hounded from place to place. Formerly +it had not mattered so much, as he had refuges to which he could go. +But now it was different. He wanted to stay with Marion and give up +his endless wandering life. But it could not be. The Police were +everywhere, tireless and alert. + +Ascending the hill which stretched along back of the cabin, he at +length stopped at a spot where he could obtain a fairly good view of +what was taking place down below. He saw the Police come to the trail +leading to the cabin, where they paused to investigate. He could see +Sergeant North advancing alone, so he knew that he would soon be with +Marion. That she meant anything to him Hugo had not the least idea. Had +he known of their love for each other, his troubles would have been +greatly increased. Would Marion tell the sergeant of his whereabouts? +What reason would she have for keeping silent? + +He thought of all this as he crouched there. Then, knowing that to +remain longer would be of no avail, he slipped away, sped along the +side of the hill, and crossed the main trail half a mile or more +farther on. Far away beyond the valley he had another cabin, and there +he decided to go for food and rest. + +Shaping his course by a distant mountain peak, he strode rapidly +onward. Anger and disappointment raged in his bosom, as with great +swinging strides he plowed through the snow down toward the valley +below. He did not mind the cold, neither did the sombre forest have any +terror for him. In fact, he would have welcomed another encounter with +a pack of wolves. He was in a fighting mood and would have proven a +stern antagonist to any living creature attempting to oppose him. + +Passing through a heavy tract of timber he came out into a region where +the trees were small and scattered. Here the snow was deep and in +places it had been whipped by the wind in long drifts. Part way across +this desolate stretch he came suddenly upon a straggling trail which +caused him to stop and examine it with the greatest attention. He could +easily tell that it was made by a human being floundering wildly along. +He looked first to the right and then to the left, wondering which way +the traveller had gone. + +“What in time could anyone be doing here without snow-shoes?” he asked +himself. “Why, the fellow must be crazy!” + +Then an illuminating idea flashed through his mind. It must be the +half-breed girl! She had no doubt escaped from her captor, and in +trying to get back to her camping-place had lost her way. But where was +Bill? Why had he not followed her? Then he thought of the blood he had +seen upon the snow by the cold ashes. Had the girl in some way wounded +him? Perhaps she was armed, and had disabled the villain. + +Thinking thus, he decided that the girl had gone up the valley, and +could not be very far away, judging by the depth of the snow, and the +crookedness of her trail. Forgotten were his own troubles as he thought +of the girl’s desperate situation. He must follow after and do what he +could for her welfare, providing she were still alive. + +It did not take Hugo long to speed across the snowy waste, and reach +a thicket of trees beyond. But at every stride his eyes were upon the +marks in the snow. At times he saw where the girl had circled to the +right and then to the left, showing plainly the bewildered state of her +mind. He could not tell how long before she had passed that way. If but +a few minutes, he might be able to save her. But if an hour, or even +less, had elapsed, he feared he might be too late. But with feverish +haste he pressed onward, entered the thicket, passed through and came +out shortly on the opposite side. Here he halted and looked around. It +was a region over which a fire had swept the year before, and forms of +trees stood gaunt and bare. His eyes searched keenly for some moving +object in the midst of the mass of upturned roots and fallen trees. But +no sign of life could he see. + +He was about to continue his journey when a peculiar sound fell upon +his ears. Listening intently, he found that it came from the left. It +was like a human voice, yet he could not distinguish what was being +said. He knew that it must be the girl, and his heart leaped with hope +as he hurried forward. It took him only a few minutes to reach the +place where Zell was lying upon the snow, still babbling and crooning +about other days. + +“Hello, girl, what are you doing here?” Hugo demanded. + +But Zell gave no sign of recognition. She kept on talking, all the +time clawing at the snow with her mittened hands. In an instant +Hugo knew what was the trouble. The girl’s mind was affected by the +experience through which she had recently passed. He stood for a few +seconds looking upon her, while an overwhelming rage welled up in his +heart against the villain responsible for her sad condition. He longed +to track him, and bestow upon him the punishment he rightly deserved. +But he had no time to think about such things now, as the girl demanded +his immediate attention. He must do something for her welfare. But what +could he do? He thought of his cabin on the hillside which he had left +but a short time before. That was the place where he should take the +girl, for Marion was there to attend to her. But to go back was out +of the question. The Police were there. No, he must take the girl to +his cabin beyond the valley toward which he was headed. It would be a +difficult task, he was well aware, to carry the girl all that distance. +But he knew that he could do it, for she was slight while he was very +strong. + +He was about to stoop and lift her from the snow, when Zell tottered to +her feet, and looked wildly around. Her eyes were wide with terror, and +she pressed fearfully back from some imaginary foe. + +“Keep back! Keep back!” she shrieked. “Oh! Oh!” + +“Hush,” Hugo ordered, laying his hand upon her shoulder. “I won’t let +anything harm you.” + +But the girl shrank aside at his touch, and beat the air with her hands. + +“The wolves! The wolves!” she cried. “They are upon me! Don’t let them +get me!” + +To attempt to reason with the girl Hugo knew would be useless. He must +get her to the cabin as speedily as possible. Stooping, he lifted +her from the snow, and with her in his arms he started forward. For a +few minutes Zell struggled and screamed so furiously that Hugo found +it difficult to make much progress. But at length she quieted down, +and lay panting in his arms. At first he did not mind her weight, but +after he had travelled some distance he was forced to lay her down in +the snow to relieve his aching arms. Then up and on again over that +desolate waste. + +The dawn of a new day found Hugo about half a mile from his cabin. +He was walking slowly now, for he was greatly exhausted. His coat he +had taken off and wrapped it carefully around the girl. Even then he +feared lest she should freeze, for the night was very cold. He even +wondered at himself as he bore his burden up hills, across valleys, and +through thick forests. He could not account for his sympathy for this +poor demented half-breed girl. It was a feeling similar to that which +had animated his soul when he had journeyed with the little child from +the river to the hospital. Time and time again he had rescued sick +and injured miners and prospectors, and had taken them to the nearest +mining camp. He had done it because there was nothing else to do, and +he could not leave them to perish. He had felt a certain degree of pity +for them, but his heart had never been stirred in such a manner as +when caring for the child and especially the girl. She had been deeply +wronged, so perhaps that was the reason, for Hugo was ever the champion +of the ill-treated. + +Slowly the moon faded off in the west as the weary man plodded onward. +The sun rose above the mountain peaks, and skimmed low along the +eastern horizon. Ere long Hugo could see the spot where nestled his +little cabin, and with a great sigh of relief he climbed the hill, +reached the door, pushed it open and entered. Upon a rude bunk on one +side of the room he laid the helpless girl. Tired though he was, he at +once started a fire in the little camping-stove, and prepared some food +from a supply he always kept on hand. In a short time he had heated +some stewed moose meat left from his last meal there, and forced a few +spoonfuls between the girl’s firm-set teeth. It was all that he could +do except cover her with two thick gray four-point blankets. He stood +watching her as she lay there, now asleep, worn out with the fatigue +of the night. What was he to do with her? he wondered. Where could he +take her? That she needed more attention than he could give her, he was +certain. But where could he go for assistance? + +Hugo thought of these things as he ate his supper, and afterwards +sat smoking near the stove. It felt good to be back once more in the +shelter of his own cabin, and but for his worry about the girl he would +have felt quite happy. He mused upon the events of the day and wondered +how Marion was getting along. He was quite sure that she would go away +with the Police, but just where he had no idea. He did not feel so +bitter now about being driven forth into the night. If he had remained +there with Marion the half-breed girl would surely have perished. +During his long sojourn in the wilderness Hugo had often puzzled over +the mystery of life. Notwithstanding his spirit of rebellion for +man-made law, deep down in his heart there was a profound respect for +the unchanging law of Nature. As he journeyed along the trails; as he +watched the western sky burnished with the glory of the setting sun; as +he faced the furious storms of winter, or stood in some great silent +valley, he had learned over and over again that there was no effect +without some corresponding cause. He never could believe that things +happened according to blind chance. Several times he had tried to force +himself to that way of thinking, but all in vain. The great book spread +out before him was so unmistakably clear that he could never remain in +doubt for any length of time. + +So sitting now in the silent cabin he thought of the events which had +led him to the side of that lost girl. At first appearance it seemed +as if those two guardians of the North were the cause. But the more +he thought about it, the more convinced he became that they were but +instruments in the hands of a greater force, a Divine power overruling +all things. What had led them so unerringly that night from the distant +trail where he had seen them the day before? What had changed their +course? He could arrive at only one conclusion, and it filled his soul +with awe. It thrilled him, too, making him feel that he was surrounded +by a sustaining influence working on his behalf. He suddenly thought of +the night he had spent in the shack with the sleeping child, and the +wonderful vision he had there beheld of the mysterious light, and the +strange presence hovering over the little one. + +For some time Hugo sat there, thinking of these things. The +transformation which had been going on in his soul of late was +steadily gaining in strength. A new vision had come to him, and with +the vision was a new desire. He felt that he was no longer merely +Hugo, the trapper, the outcast, but an instrument in the hands of an +unseen power. He looked toward the sleeping girl, and felt that in +some way she was being used as an important instrument in the shaping +of his life. And as he watched her, his future line of action became +strangely clear, and a new sense of power possessed his entire being. + +Rising suddenly from his seat, he passed out of the cabin and laid +his hands upon a small toboggan half-buried in the snow. This he +carried into the room, and placed it near the stove. When it was well +thawed out and dry, he began to repair the broken parts. With strong +moose-hide thongs he deftly repaired the damages wrought by many a hard +trail. He then laid the toboggan aside, stepped across the room and +examined his scanty supply of provisions upon a rough shelf fastened to +the wall. + + + + +CHAPTER 12 + +Confession + + +After Hugo had left the cabin on the hillside in such an abrupt manner, +Marion stood for a few seconds greatly concerned over his strange +action. Then she hurried to the little window and tried to look out. +But the frost was so thick upon the small panes of glass that she +could see nothing. She listened intently, and in a few seconds heard +the jingle of bells mingled with the short sharp yelps of dogs. Her +father had spoken of the Police, but she had no idea that any members +of the Force were anywhere near. Could it be possible that the one for +whom she so earnestly longed had happened that way? Had he tracked her +father to the little cabin? If so, what should she do? Would it be +right for her to tell the sergeant that he had just left her? + +Marion had little time, however, to think of such things, for soon the +door was pushed open and Sergeant North looked cautiously in. In his +right hand he held a revolver as if expecting opposition. As he stood +waiting for the owner of the cabin to approach, Marion stepped from the +window and confronted him. So great was the sergeant’s surprise that he +moved quickly back as if he had beheld a ghost. Then seeing who it was, +he thrust his weapon into its holster, and springing forward, caught +Marion in his arms. Their lips met and for a few heart-beats neither +spoke. + +“My! this is a surprise,” North exclaimed as he drew back his head and +looked into her beaming eyes. “I was expecting something altogether +different from this.” + +“You were looking for trouble, from all appearances,” Marion laughingly +replied. “I’m glad you have put that nasty thing away. I don’t like it.” + +“I was looking for trouble,” North confessed, “although, for once I’m +glad I didn’t find it.” + +“But perhaps you have found it,” Marion bantered. “You have found me, +and I’m certain that I’m going to be the greatest trouble of all.” + +“I’ll like you all the better, then,” and again North kissed her. “You +cannot frighten me that way, remember. Facing trouble has been my lot +for years, and I’ve not had too much of it yet.” + +“But this is a different kind, John. You are thinking only about men. +Just wait and see what trouble one woman can make.” + +“Oh, I’m not worrying about that, darling,” the sergeant assured her +with a hearty laugh. “It will be a change, anyway.” + +Rolfe’s voice outside speaking sharply to the dogs brought a serious +expression to North’s face. Love for the moment had interfered with +duty, and that was contrary to the strict code to which he was bound. + +“Where is the man who owns this cabin?” he suddenly asked. + +“I do not know,” Marion truthfully replied. + +“But he was here a short time ago, was he not?” + +“Yes.” + +“And he brought you here?” + +“He did. But for him I do not know what I should have done. Tell me, +have you seen Zell?” + +“Zell! Zell who?” + +“The half-breed girl who was travelling with me. We were camping by the +side of the trail, and after the wolves had been shot, she went for +some wood. But she never came back, and I am afraid she is either lost +or something has carried her off.” + +“And did those wolves now lying dead down there attack you?” North +asked in surprise. + +“They did. Oh, it was terrible!” + +“Who shot them?” + +“Hugo, the trapper. The wolves surrounded us, coming closer and closer +all the time, and when they were about to spring upon us, some one +began shooting at them. We could not see who it was, although I know +now that it was the trapper. He carried me part way here.” + +“He did!” There was a peculiar expression in the sergeant’s eyes as he +kept them fixed upon Marion’s face. + +“So it was Hugo,” he mused. “It’s too bad I wasn’t on hand sooner.” + +“Why, what would you have done, John?” Marion asked. + +“Rescued you, of course.” + +“Anything else?” + +“And captured Hugo.” + +“Why?” + +“I want him. He’s the man I’m after, and I shall never give up until I +get him.” + +“Why are you chasing him? What has he done?” + +“That’s what I want to find out. He is needed in connection with that +murder near the C. D. Cut-Off.” + +“I don’t believe he did that,” Marion defended. “He may be rough, but +he would never do such a terrible thing.” + +“Why has he acted in such a strange manner, then? Why didn’t he report +the murder when he brought the child to the hospital? And why is he now +running away?” + +“Hasn’t he been keeping away from the Police for years, long before +that murder was committed? I often heard at Kynox that he dreaded the +sight of a member of the Force. Haven’t you been after him for a long +time?” + +“Why, no,” the sergeant denied. “We had no orders to capture him. We +always looked upon him as a strange man, rough, and terrible in a +fight, but otherwise perfectly harmless.” + +“You have orders to capture him now, though?” + +“In a way I have. He may be innocent, but he must tell what he knows +about that murder.” + +“And you intend to follow him?” + +“I certainly do. But we cannot go just now, for the dogs are about +played out. We travelled hard all last night, without rest or food. But +here comes Tom. He’s almost starved, and so am I.” + +The constable was surprised and pleased to see Marion. He was very +tired, and the presence of this woman gave a touch of home life to +the cabin. Marion insisted upon preparing breakfast with some of the +provisions the men had brought with them. There was no table in the +room, so North and Rolfe squatted upon the floor, each holding his tin +plate on his lap which Marion had filled with hot canned pork and beans. + +“There is not much style about this,” she laughingly remarked. + +“Style!” the constable exclaimed. “To have a woman serve us is all the +style I want. Why, I’ve been cooking for months, and am heartily sick +of it. I would give almost anything to be back in my own home, to see +my mother working around the kitchen, and to hear her say, ‘Tom, will +you have another piece of pie?’ I never fully appreciated her and her +cooking until I came to this canned-food country.” + +Both Marion and the sergeant laughed heartily at the doleful expression +upon Rolfe’s face. + +“Tom never wearies of telling about his mother’s wonderful cooking,” +the sergeant explained. “I wish to goodness he had taken a few lessons +from her before he left home.” + +“You eat all I cook, though,” the constable retorted. + +“I have to or starve. You won’t let me do any cooking, although I am in +command.” + +“Self-preservation is a strong feature in my make-up, Miss Brisbane. +The sergeant is teachable for all that, so with little tact you may be +able to train him properly.” + +There was a fine spirit of comradeship between these two men, who +spent so much time together on the long trails. They knew each other +thoroughly, and their light banter was merely an offset to the +difficulty and seriousness of their tasks. The commanding officer who +had sent them forth together had made no mistake in his knowledge of +men. Rolfe’s bright and buoyant disposition was an excellent balance to +North’s stern and somewhat taciturn nature. + +When breakfast was over, Rolfe insisted upon washing the few dishes. He +then spread out his blankets in one corner of the room, and stretched +out his tired body. Marion and North sat near the stove side by side. +For a while they were silent, rejoicing in each other’s presence, for +silence is often more eloquent than many words. When at length Rolfe’s +heavy breathing told them that he was asleep, North reached out, took +Marion’s right hand in his, and pressed it firmly. + +“It is great to be here so near you,” he began. “You have been so much +in my mind, and I was wondering how you were making out at Big Chance. +Never for an instant did I picture you away out here. Tell me all about +it.” + +“There really isn’t much to tell other than what you already know,” +Marion replied. “I am so worried about that poor girl. I am sure that +something has happened to her. And she was so anxious about her injured +lover, Tim, and wanted to get to the missionary at The Gap for help as +fast as possible.” + +“And so you came with her for company? Is that it?” + +“Oh, no,” Marion replied in a low voice. “I heard something at Big +Chance which worried me, so I came along hoping to find you and to warn +you.” + +“To warn me!” North exclaimed in surprise. “What for?” + +“Yes, to warn you against danger. I heard something about Bill, the +Slugger. From what Zell told me, I fear that he intends to do you some +harm. At first the girl hesitated about telling me anything. She was +terribly afraid of Bill, and begged me not to say a word to you lest he +should kill her.” + +The sergeant was all attention now, eager to hear more. He believed +that the half-breed girl knew something which was most important for +him to know. + +“Did she say anything about that murder near the C. D. Cut-Off?” he +questioned. + +“Not directly. But when I asked her if Bill did it, she gave a start, +and glanced anxiously toward the door. ‘I don’t dare to tell,’ she +said. ‘Bill would kill me if I did.’” + +“Ah!” The sergeant was looking straight before him, and his eyes were +merely two narrow slits. He was thinking rapidly, comprehending things +which he had never suspected. + +“What else did the girl say?” he presently asked. + +“She begged me not to tell you for fear of what Bill might do. She +said he was getting ready for a trip, and was almost frightened out of +his wits while you were at Big Chance. Zell, it seems, was secretly +watching him.” + +“Had she any idea where he was going?” + +“Yes. She was certain that he was planning to leave the country by way +of The Gap, and cross the mountains.” + +“I see, I see,” North mused. “Yes, a most likely thing for him to do. +My, this is important news to me, you have helped me wonderfully.” + +“And you will follow him?” There was a quiver in Marion’s voice. “Oh, +do be careful! Zell said that Bill was such a bad man that he would +stop at nothing, and would even shoot a member of the Force if he +opposed him.” + +“And so you started out to warn me, eh?” North queried. “Did you +realise the risks you were running? Did you stop to think what a trip +to The Gap would mean at this time of the year? Why, it almost unnerves +me to think of what might have happened to you. It is mighty lucky that +you have come off so well.” + +“I am afraid that I didn’t think much about the risk, but acted merely +upon the impulse of the moment when I agreed to come with Zell.” + +“And so you did all this for my sake?” North asked, pressing Marion’s +hand a little firmer. “I am sure that no one else in the world would do +such a thing for me.” + +“Love nerves the most timid, John, and transforms weakness into +strength. But I have a confession to make now which no doubt will +surprise you.” + +“Make all the confession you like, little one,” was the quiet reply. +“What confession can you make that will interfere with our great love?” + +“I hope it won’t, anyway,” and Marion gave a deep sigh. North noted +this and looked somewhat anxiously into her face. + +“Is it as serious as all that?” he asked. “Is it troubling you much?” + +“It is, and has been worrying me for days. How would you like to be +told that you do not share all my love?” + +“Why, Marion, what do you mean?” North demanded. “Or are you only +joking?” + +“No, I am not. I am deadly in earnest. I came out here not only for +your sake but for the sake of another man as well.” + +“You did!” It was all that North could say as he dropped Marion’s hand +and stared at her in amazement. “For God’s sake, who is it? Tell me +quick.” + +“It is the man who brought me to this cabin.” + +“What! Hugo, the trapper?” + +“Yes, he is the man. I came to warn you not only against Bill, the +Slugger, but to keep you and the trapper from harming each other. I did +it because I love you both.” + +“Marion! Marion! What do you mean?” North demanded, rising to his feet +in his agitation. “You love Hugo, the trapper, you say?” + +“I do, and I have a right to because he is my father.” + +At this confession, made in a low voice, North’s tense body relaxed. +His eyes brightened, and a smile illumined his face. Sitting down again +by Marion’s side, he tenderly placed his arm about her and drew her +close. + +“So that was your trouble, darling, was it?” he asked. “Well, now that +your confession is made, don’t worry any more. It is startling, I +admit, and I know you will explain everything to me. I am so glad it +was your father and not somebody else.” + +“Oh, I feel so relieved,” Marion replied, letting her head rest against +her lover’s shoulder. There were tears in her eyes, and her body was +trembling slightly. “I know it won’t make any difference to you in +carrying out your orders, but it will help us to work together, will it +not?” + +“Indeed it will,” was the emphatic reply. “Knowing what I do now about +Bill, the Slugger, and also who Hugo is, certain difficulties have been +removed. I see quite a clear trail ahead of me, thanks to your love and +help.” + + + + +CHAPTER 13 + +The Rush of Doom + + +The gigantic mass of the Golden Horn was a deceptive monster. From +all quarters it formed an unerring guide to travellers on the trails. +Its towering peak when touched by the sun was the admiration of all +who beheld it. From a distance it often seemed like a fairy land, +especially when sun and wavering clouds became entangled in a mesh +of surpassing glory. But to veterans of the north, both Indians and +whites, it was a demon to be feared when the snows of numerous winter +storms lay thick upon its sides. Huge banks, steadily increasing, +would cling for weeks, and sometimes months, in deep crevices. When +at last the weight became so tremendous that the mass could hold no +longer, it would slip from its place with the roar of thunder, and +tear down the mountain side. At times it would start without any +apparent reason, even in the finest of weather, carrying destruction +to all before it. In former days the Indians looked upon the Golden +Horn as the special abode of the Great Spirit. When he smiled in the +glory of the sun-crowned summit they were happy, knowing that the god +was pleased. But when he raged in the furious tempests, and hurled +forth his avalanches of death-dealing snow, then he was angry, and +they offered to him gifts of meat, furs, and blankets. As a rule they +shunned in winter the mountain route between the Great River and The +Gap, preferring the longer way beyond the valley. But some hardy +souls, especially among the whites, made use of the dangerous trail, +and laughed at the fears of others. + +The day of Marion’s confession in the little cabin the Golden Horn +never looked more beautiful or benign. It seemed to smile its +benediction on all sides, especially upon the lovers as they stood +before the cabin ready to depart for The Gap, whither they had decided +to go. All, excepting the sergeant, were rested, dinner had been eaten, +and the dogs harnessed, with Zell’s four added to the team. With Marion +on the sled surrounded by blankets, small bags of food, and a few +cooking utensils, the command “mush on” was given, the whip in North’s +hand snapped like a pistol shot, and they were off. How the dogs did +race over the snow. They seemed to be conscious of the burden they +bore, and the need for haste. Notwithstanding the sense of security +with the strong men following, Marion’s heart was heavy. She was ever +thinking of Zell, and her unbounded animation the day they had pulled +out from Big Chance. Where was the girl now? she wondered. Was she +lying somewhere upon the snow, silent in death? Perhaps she had fallen +among wolves, or worse still into the hands of Bill, the Slugger. The +sergeant had told her about that other camping-place he had found by +the side of the trail, which had not been there the evening she and +Zell passed that way. It could not have been made by her father, she +was certain, because his own little cabin was so near. No, some one +must have been following them, and had made off with the half-breed +girl. + +North’s thoughts, too, were of a serious nature. He had many things +to think about since his conversation with Marion in the cabin. What +connection had her father with that murder? Why did he fear the Police +if he were innocent? But he had been fleeing from them for years, so it +seemed. And where was Bill, the Slugger? He strongly suspected him now +in connection with that murder. It was most likely that he would try to +escape by way of The Gap, for to try any other easterly route to reach +the outside in the winter time would be madness. It was important, +therefore, that he should reach The Gap ahead of the villain. And where +was the half-breed girl? He needed her, for she evidently knew a great +deal. Perhaps Bill would have her with him, and if so, he could take +both together. For the present he would abandon his pursuit of Hugo, +the trapper. He could get him later to tell what he knew after he had +rounded up Bill and the girl. + +Steadily the dogs raced the low sun out of the heavens that short +winter afternoon. Twilight tarried for a space, and then night +enshrouded the land. And with the darkness came a halt, a camping-place +was selected, and preparations made for the night. Soon, in a snug +lean-to, Marion sat upon a robe spread over a bed of fir boughs. Rolfe +attended to the cooking of the supper, and ere long the appetizing odor +of frying moose-meat steak pervaded the air. He refused to allow Marion +to assist, contending that he was going to prove to her the falseness +of the sergeant’s charge. + +“He says I can’t cook,” he remarked as he turned the meat in the +frying-pan. “But I’m going to let you judge for yourself, Miss +Brisbane. That will be the best answer I can make.” + +“Oh, Tom is putting on his best frills now,” North retorted, +straightening himself from his work of building another lean-to on the +opposite side of the fire. “When he has a woman to cook for, he is +mighty particular.” + +“It’s well that I am along, then,” Marion smilingly replied. “But you +don’t look starved,” she reminded, glancing admiringly at the stalwart, +handsome man before her. + +When Rolfe had the meat browned to his satisfaction, the “sourdough” +potatoes fried, and the tea made, he called aloud, “Dinner all ready on +the dining-car. That’s what an Indian guide I once had always used to +say,” he explained. “If you can’t have certain things, it is often good +to imagine that you have them. That was the way with my Indian.” + +After supper was over, the dogs were fed, and the constable gathered +a supply of wood for the night. Then around the bright fire the three +sat and talked for some time. It was not of the North they talked, but +of bygone days in their old homes. It was a comfort to turn for a time +from the cruel trail and the hardships of a desolate, snow-bound region +to other scenes, glorified and made beautiful by the sacred fire of +memory. + +At length they slept, Marion in her little lean-to, and the men in the +other. Silence reigned over the land, broken only by the crackling of +the fire or the snapping of a frost-stung tree. The dogs made no sound +as they slept curled up close to the fire. Not a breath of wind stirred +the most sensitive topmost points of the firs and jack-pines. The sky +was cloudless, and the Northern Lights streamed and wavered in the +heavens. Above towered the Golden Horn, silent and unseen. + +As the night wore on, the fire died down, until only a few glowing +ashes remained. Sergeant North stirred in his sleep and drew his +blanket closer around his body. Then he woke with a start, and sat bolt +upright. What was that peculiar sound away to the left? He listened +with straining ears, and in an instant he understood its meaning. It +was a snow-slide, sweeping down upon them with a roar of thunder! With +a yell that brought Rolfe to his feet, startled and dazed, North leaped +across the dying embers, caught Marion in his arms, sprang back again, +and staggered with his burden out upon the trail. No time had he to +explain to the frightened woman the meaning of his strange action, for +the roar of the onrushing avalanche was becoming louder every instant. +He could hear the great trees above him crashing before the weight of +the mighty demon. Could he escape with his precious burden? On and on +he sped, a wild desperation adding strength to his efforts. Then in +a twinkling he was hurled off his feet, and engulfed in a blinding, +smothering mass of whirling snow. Away he was carried, clutching +frantically the form in his arms. He was helpless to raise a hand of +defense. He felt like a man carried onward by a mighty current, now +sucking him down, then whirling him to the surface. The weight pressing +upon him was terrible. It was crushing the life out of him. At times he +could not breathe, and his brain reeled in his mad tumultuous rush. But +still he clutched Marion’s body, fearful lest she should be torn from +his arms. Then he felt a sudden freedom. The pressing weight relaxed, +and the invigorating air filled his lungs. One more blinding swish and +swirl, and he was hurled into something soft, where he lay half-dazed +and panting. + +A low moan aroused him, and with an effort he struggled to his knees, +and groped around. His hands touched Marion’s body. He had not lost +her, but what had happened to her during that wild catapulting down the +hillside? Perhaps she was badly injured. Weak though he was, he caught +her in his arms, and lifted her partly from the snow which entangled +her. + +“Marion! Marion! are you hurt?” he asked. + +Receiving no reply, a great fear swept over him. Was she dead! He put +his ear close to her face and listened. She was breathing, but so low +that he could hardly detect it. Then he straightened up, and looked +anxiously around. What was he to do? How far had they been swept in +the wild rush? The moon had already risen, so he could dimly see the +great scar left by the snow-slide. It had plowed its way down through +the forest, and broken trees lined the path the monster had taken. He +shuddered as he thought of their narrow escape. But where was Rolfe? +Had he been carried down to destruction? The idea was terrible. But +he had no time now to spend upon vain lamentations. Marion needed +assistance, and at once. It was no use, he well knew, to go back to +the trail. Their camp had gone, so he might as well stay where he was. +Looking around, he saw several dead trees. From these he broke off a +number of dry branches, and brushing away the snow from the roots of a +big fir, he lighted a fire. Scraping back more snow, he cut some boughs +with his big pocket-knife, and then spread them near the cheerful +blaze. Here he carried Marion and laid her tenderly down. He could +see her face plainly now, and it was very white. How still she was! +Again he stooped and listened. Then he kissed her, calling to her, and +begging her to speak to him. + +In a few minutes he had his reward, for with a weary sigh, Marion +opened her eyes and looked absently into his face. + +“Marion! Marion!” he cried. “Don’t you know me? It is your own John. +Speak to me, and tell me if you are hurt.” + +Slowly the girl’s senses returned. Seeing who it was bending over her, +a slight smile overspread her face, and her lips moved, although she +uttered no sound. + +Leaving her, North piled more sticks upon the fire. He next cut down an +extra supply of boughs, with which he fashioned a cozy little lean-to +about his loved one. For a while she paid no heed to what he was doing. +Her eyes, however, followed his movements, and at last she called +faintly to him. With a bound the sergeant was at her side, kneeling +upon the robe and bending tenderly over her. + +“Where am I?” Marion asked. + +“Right here with me,” North replied. “You are safe.” + +“What happened, John? I thought the world had come to an end.” + +“It was a snow-slide. But we were wonderfully delivered, just how I do +not know now. Are you hurt, dear?” + +“No, I guess not. I am only very weak. But where is the constable?” + +Then seeing the anxious expression which swept over the sergeant’s +face, she quickly continued: “Oh, I know. He was carried away. Isn’t it +terrible!” + +“It certainly is, Marion. I am afraid the poor fellow was swept down +in that wild rush. It was almost a miracle that we escaped as we did. +Another second and it would have been too late.” + +For a few heart-beats there was silence, their minds filled with such +thoughts which only come to people who have stood face to face with +death. + +“What are we to do, John?” Marion at length asked. “I suppose the dogs +were lost, too, as well as the camping outfit.” + +“Everything is gone, no doubt,” was the quiet reply. “In all my +experience on the trails I have never run up against anything like +this. Snow-slides are common on the mountain side, but hitherto I have +always managed to escape them.” + +“And to think that I should be with you, John, to add to your trouble.” + +“Don’t, don’t say that, darling,” North pleaded, as he kissed her upon +the lips, and was pleased to see the color flood her cheeks. “You will +be a help to me instead of a hindrance. We shall get out of this, all +right.” + +Notwithstanding the sergeant’s words of encouragement, he fully +realised the seriousness of their situation. Twenty miles from The +Gap, with no food and no dogs, and with a woman unaccustomed to the +trail made their plight appalling. How helpless they were, mere pigmies +in that vast wilderness of forest, snow, and stinging cold. Then, in +addition to all these, should a storm sweep upon them, their case would +be hopeless. + + + + +CHAPTER 14 + +Life for Life + + +The sergeant picked up a piece of wood and was about to throw it on +the fire, when a shout in the direction of the trail arrested his +attention. He dropped the stick, stared in amazement, his heart beating +fast. At first he thought he must have been mistaken, but when the +shout was repeated he answered with a whoop that echoed through the +forest’s silent reaches. Ere long he heard the sound of someone plowing +his way through the snow, straight toward him. In a few minutes Rolfe +appeared, his face very white, except one cheek which was streaked with +blood, and his clothes torn. For an instant he stared first at the +sergeant and then at Marion, who had risen to a sitting position. Then +overcome by weakness and excitement, he dropped upon the snow near the +fire. His hands clawed the air, as if warding off some invisible foe. +His eyes were big with terror. North stepped to his side and laid a +firm hand upon his shoulder. + +“Come, buck up, old man,” he ordered. “You’re all right.” + +That touch and the friendly word of cheer brought Rolfe to his senses. +The wild expression left his eyes, and his uplifted hands dropped. + +“Lord, it was awful!” he moaned. “It was hell let loose.” + +Then he looked over at Marion. + +“Excuse me, Miss Brisbane,” he apologized. “But I am hardly myself +after what I have just gone through. I am mighty glad, though, to find +you and the sergeant safe. How in the world did you escape? I was sure +that you were buried down there in the valley.” + +“We do not know how we escaped,” Marion replied, while a tremor shook +her body. “The Lord must have been with us, I guess. But we got off +better than you did. Something has happened to you. There is blood upon +your face.” + +“Oh, it’s nothing, I assure you, Miss Brisbane. Something hit me a +glancing blow, a broken limb of a tree, I think, as I was struggling +out of the clutch of that monster. I was only a few steps behind you, +and how I got clear I have no idea. It was a terrible fight, and I was +nearly smothered. Then the first thing I knew I was wedged up against +a tree till I thought every bone in my body was being crushed. I lost +consciousness and when I came to everything was still, and I was lying +at the foot of a big fir with snow all around me. I was sure that you +two were gone and that I alone was saved.” + +“Why did you shout if you thought we were lost?” North asked. + +“I hardly know why, except that I was half crazy and just whooped. +I guess I was just like an infant crying in the night, and with no +language but a cry. I must have done it unconsciously.” + +“It was mighty lucky you did, Rolfe, for I never thought of looking for +you up there. But I don’t think you can help us out any. We’re in a bad +fix, with not a scrap of food.” + +“I know it,” the constable replied. “One of us will have to foot it, I +guess, to The Gap for grub. There’s nothing here. We might get a few +rabbits or ptarmigan. Now, if I had my rifle, I might get a moose, for +they’re quite thick down there in the valley along that wild meadow. +But what can one do with a revolver, for that’s all I have left.” + +“Same here,” North replied. “I was afraid I had lost mine but it’s all +right. Now, look, something’s got to be done at once if we’re going to +have any breakfast. You stay here with Marion and keep the fire going. +I’m anxious to see what pranks that snow-slide has cut up where it +stopped. I have heard men tell queer stories about such things, but +always believed they were lying. I hope to goodness they weren’t.” + +“Will you be gone long, John?” Marion anxiously asked. “Don’t run any +risk.” + +“There is no danger,” North assured. “It should not take me many +minutes. I hope to get something for breakfast.” + +The sergeant made his way to the great scar caused by the snow-slide, +and found easy walking here. It did not take him long to descend the +steep hill, the big moon making the night almost as bright as day. He +was astonished at the havoc which had been wrought by the descending +monster. Large trees had been snapped like pipe stems before the +terrific impact of thousands of tons of snow and ice, and hurled in a +confused and gigantic mass down into the valley. He followed the course +until he came to the level where the avalanche had been stayed. When he +could proceed no farther on the clean-swept way, he plunged into the +snow to the right and began to circle the heaped-up mass. He kept a +sharp lookout, hoping to find some portion of the camping outfit. But +nothing could he see. Dogs, food, sleds and provisions had evidently +been buried far out of sight. + +After he had gone some distance, surprised at the width of the slide, +he decided to return. The snow was deep and the travelling difficult. +There was nothing that he could see except snow and tangled masses +of trees. He stopped and looked keenly in every direction, but not +a sign of bird or animal could he see. He knew that farther away he +might come across something, but he had not the strength to battle for +any distance through such deep snow. Sergeant North was not easily +discouraged, but a hopeless feeling now smote his heart. What was he +to do? How could he or Rolfe ever reach The Gap without snow-shoes? +It would take days to go and return with food, but if overtaken by +a storm, the journey would be impossible. Marion could not make the +journey, he was well aware, for if a strong man accustomed to the +trails would find the task an Herculean one, what could a frail woman +do? There was Hugo’s cabin to which they might return. But that, too, +was a long way back, and they would be but little better off when they +got there, as far as food was concerned. + +He thought, too, of the valuable time he was losing. Bill, the Slugger, +would reach The Gap and escape to the mountains far beyond the strong +arm of the law. What would his commanding officer think of him? He knew +the stern code of the Force and what was expected of every member, and +here he was tricked by circumstances over which he had no control. + +He was about to retrace his steps when a slight noise just ahead +arrested his attention. He whipped his revolver from its holster, and +peered forward, keenly alert. For a few seconds he could see nothing. +Then he noticed a slight movement in the snow near a mass of tangled +trees. Cautiously advancing, he ere long saw something which thrilled +his whole being. It was a moose, entrapped in the very forefront of +the avalanche, and feebly threshing its great antlers in its death +struggle. Drawing nearer, North saw that the animal’s hinder parts were +caught and crushed beneath a heavy tree while the rest of its body +was free. He knew now that what he had been told was no fiction, that +moose, bear, deer, and lesser animals were sometimes overwhelmed as +they sped before the terror of the mountains. This animal had evidently +been caught off guard near where the snow-slide had stopped. That the +brute had made a desperate fight was most apparent, and as North stood +watching its now feeble efforts a feeling of pity welled up in his +heart for this unfortunate creature. But what was death to one was life +to others, so drawing forth his sheath-knife, he at once put the animal +out of misery. + +This sudden and unexpected incident filled North with renewed hope. +There before him was food to last for several days. And the skin, which +could be cut into long strips, what possibilities lay in that! He did +not attempt to remove the tree from the body, knowing how useless that +would be. But after the moose had bled freely, with his sharp knife +he laid back a portion of the skin and cut off several slices of the +warm, quivering flesh. This took him but a few minutes, and he then +made his way back to his companions, his heart overflowing with joy and +thankfulness. + +This unexpected help in time of extremity seemed to Marion nothing else +than providential. + +“I was always interested in that story of Elijah in the wilderness,” +she remarked as she watched the sergeant broiling the meat over +several hot coals. “Although I never really doubted that the Lord sent +those ravens to feed him, yet in some way it always appeared to me like +a fairy tale. But now I know that He does care, and will supply our +needs.” + +“I guess you’re right, Miss Brisbane,” Rolfe agreed, as he squatted +before the fire. “From the way we have been helped it does look +reasonable. Now, if ravens, or some other birds would come along and +leave us a little salt to season that meat, and a few loaves of bread, +it would add a great finishing touch to the whole affair.” + +“You are too moderate in your wish,” Marion smilingly replied. “Why +don’t you wish for a roast turkey, with all the fixings, and a big +plum-pudding while you are about it?” + +“Yes, and oranges, pears, cigars, and such things,” North retorted. +“That’s the trouble with you, Tom, you’re never satisfied. Anyway, +there’s nothing but this meat for breakfast without any fixings, so +you’ve got to make the most of it.” + +An hour later the three of them started to bring in a supply of moose +meat. Marion, who was now fully recovered, was determined to go, too, +and she enjoyed the tramp. When she saw the huge mass of snow and +tangled trees she gave a cry of amazement. But when she beheld the body +of the moose, her face became very pale. + +“Isn’t it terrible!” she gasped. “I thought I was accustomed to +horrible sights, seeing so many in the hospitals, but this is somehow +different. How that poor animal must have struggled to free itself. +Nature can be so gentle and beautiful at times, and again so stern and +merciless.” + +“I hate it all,” North replied as he drew forth his knife, and set to +work upon the moose. “Nature, as you call it, is always upsetting one’s +plans. Look what a mess it has got us into here.” + +“Master Tennyson said,” Rolfe reminded, + + “‘I curse not nature, no, nor death, + For nothing is that errs from law.’” + +“Poetry again!” the sergeant growled. “I thought you were completely +cured. Well, I guess Master Tennyson would have done some cursing if he +had lived in a country such as this. Here, hold back this leg while I +strip off the hide.” + +Marion watched the men until their task was completed. They then +returned to their camping-place, carrying with them the skin of the +moose, and large pieces of meat. The fire was replenished, and the +three sat down to rest. + +“We must get to The Gap as soon as possible,” the sergeant began. “And +to do so, we need snow-shoes. Tom, you get to work and cut up that skin +into long strips as narrow as you can. I am going to look for some +suitable wood. We shall have to manufacture our own outfit.” + +“What! make snow-shoes?” the constable asked in surprise. + +“Certainly. They will be clumsy affairs, I admit, but they will serve +our purpose. Haven’t I told you how I made a pair years ago when my +dogs made a meal of the sinews?” + +“But you had the frames left, sergeant.” + +“That’s true. But as I haven’t frames now, I am going to make them. +I wish to goodness I had an axe. It is difficult to do anything with +nothing but a knife. Anyway, it can’t be helped, so I must make the +best of it.” + +The sergeant was gone for over half an hour, and when he returned he +was carrying with him a bundle of stout withes, consisting of alders +and birch limbs. These he threw down near the fire and held his hands +close to the genial heat. He looked at Marion, who was sitting upon +the fir boughs, holding one end of a strip of the moose hide which +the constable was carefully slicing. She was interested in her work, +glad to be of some use. North thought that he never saw her look more +beautiful, and when she lifted her head and saw the expression of +admiration in the sergeant’s eyes, her cheeks took on a richer hue. + +“This life certainly agrees with you,” he remarked. “You don’t seem to +mind the cold.” + +“Not while I have something to do,” was the reply. “I am glad to be +able to help a little.” + +North lost no time, but began at once making the frames for the +snow-shoes. He worked with feverish haste, for every minute was +precious. When Marion was not busy helping with the cutting of the +skin, she sat watching him as he peeled the sticks, bent each into the +proper shape, fastened the two ends together, set in the cross-bars, +and lashed them securely to the frame. The weaving of the web was a +more difficult task, but the sergeant showed Marion how it should be +done, and she proved an apt pupil. + +“You are to weave your own,” he informed her, “while Tom and I do ours. +Let us see who will be done first.” + +Then the friendly rivalry began, which was only interrupted as they +rested, prepared, and ate some more broiled moose meat. This simple +repast ended, they continued their work. Marion was the first to +finish, and triumphantly she held up her snow-shoes for inspection. +They were but poor clumsy affairs, yet they were to serve as means of +deliverance. + +Although contending with many difficulties, there was never one word +of complaint uttered. The cold was intense, which even the fire could +not overcome. Huddled as close as possible to the heat, their faces +would be hot while their backs were chilled. No blankets had they to +wrap about their bodies. Fir boughs were their only protection, and +an abundance of these the men banked up around Marion, and then made +a shelter for themselves on the opposite side of the fire. That night +while the sergeant worked constructing a little rude toboggan out of a +number of sticks and a portion of the frozen moose skin, Rolfe repeated +numerous poems, to which Marion listened with much interest. Piece +after piece he recited, grave, stirring and gay. + +“Poetry has always been my reserve power,” he explained. “When I get +downhearted, or in a tight place, a noble poem stirs me like martial +music. There are two, especially, which have never failed me yet. The +first is Newbolt’s ‘Play up, play up, and play the game.’ The other +is Henley’s masterpiece, ‘The Captain.’ No doubt you know it, Miss +Brisbane, but just listen to these words: + + “‘Out of the night that covers me, + Black as the pit from pole to pole, + I thank whatever gods there be + For my unconquerable soul. + + In the fell clutch of circumstance, + I have not winced nor cried aloud, + Beneath the bludgeonings of fate, + My head is bloody, but unbowed.’” + +“Now, wouldn’t that stir the most discouraged? Doesn’t it arouse one, +make him stand up, face defeat, fight, and win? That is what it has +done to me over and over again. Now, just listen to this last verse: + + “‘It matters not how strait the gate, + How charged with punishment the scroll, + I am the master of my fate, + I am the Captain of my soul.’” + +Upon Rolfe’s face was an expression of great determination as he ended, +and his glowing eyes were looking straight before him. To him the words +were wonderfully real and effective. Marion, too, felt their spell, and +even the heart of the matter-of-fact sergeant experienced a strange +thrill. + +“Tom, I never appreciated your poetry before,” the latter candidly +confessed. “To me it was all doggerel, but I see it in a different +light now. I am really glad to see that you have broken out again after +your unusually long silence.” + +The constable’s face beamed with pleasure, and he gave a sigh of relief. + +“Good for you, sergeant!” he replied. “Now you can understand why +General Wolfe recited Gray’s ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’ as he +moved up the river to attack Quebec. We have often argued about that, +and you always contended it was all nonsense. I am glad that you see +light at last.” + + + + +CHAPTER 15 + +The Truce of the Storm + + +Under the most favourable circumstances a northern trail in the +dead winter is a test of endurance. There is the stinging cold, the +weary tread hour after hour, up hill and down, with no prospect +of a hot supper waiting at the end of the day’s march. It is hard +and discouraging enough then, but how much more difficult when the +snow-shoes are merely rough, heavy makeshifts, the webs too loose to +support the feet in a proper manner, and the frames occasionally giving +way beneath the strain. In addition to all this and the weariness, to +have little to eat, and no comfortable resting place at night. + +Such were the conditions under which the three wayfarers plodded slowly +onward the next day. North and Rolfe found it hard, but Marion a great +deal harder. The snow-shoes which had caused her so much pride seemed +like great clogs to her feet. She longed to throw them aside, but +that was out of the question. So wearily she struggled forward, doing +her best to keep up with the men, who were even then travelling at a +snail’s pace for her sake. The sergeant longed to help her, but as they +were moving in Indian file he could do little to assist. Several times +he tried to walk by her side, holding her arm and letting her lean on +him for support. But the snow was too deep, and each time he floundered +around on his wretched snow-shoes, and was always glad to get back on +the trail again. + +That day they were able to make only a few miles, and camped early, +greatly fatigued. Once more little brush shelters were made, their meat +supper eaten, after which they gathered close to the fire for warmth. +The sergeant was anxious about Marion. She looked more weary than he +had ever seen her before. But she assured him that she was feeling +fine, only tired, that was all. In the morning she would be once more +ready for the trail. + +“I have been trying Mr. Rolfe’s plan all day,” she said, “and have been +repeating verses which I learned years ago, especially old familiar +hymns. It was certainly a great help. I thought of what the Bishop of +the Yukon once told me. You remember how he and another man nearly lost +their lives in crossing the mountains from Fort McPherson. When they +were in terrible straits, not knowing where they were, worn to shadows, +and forced to eat their muck-lucks to keep life in their bodies, the +Bishop was greatly encouraged by the words of the hymn ‘Go labour on, +spend and be spent.’ You can add the Bishop’s testimony and mine, Mr. +Rolfe, to support your claim of the influence of poetry.” + +“Indeed I shall, Miss Brisbane,” the constable declared. “When I go +outside, if I ever live to get there, I am going to give a lecture on +the influence of poetry. As examples, I shall relate the experiences of +you, the Bishop, and General Wolfe, as well as my own.” + +“What about you, John?” Marion asked, turning to the sergeant, who was +seated by her side. “Haven’t you something to add to such imposing +witnesses?” + +“I am afraid not,” was the quiet reply. “The only poetry I ever +learned was ‘God save the King,’ and but one verse of that.” + +“Ugh! that isn’t poetry, sergeant,” Rolfe retorted. “That’s nothing but +doggerel.” + +“It may be as you say, Tom, but there’s something in it, for all that, +which stirs the heart. The singing of that kept the spirit of loyalty +alive in this country, and sent hundreds of thousands of men overseas +during the Great War. It sent me, anyway, and brought me back again to +the north to serve the King when the war was over. You may read and +quote poetry all you like, Tom, but the finest poetry, to my way of +thinking, is found in worthy deeds of service. I can’t sing a note of +the National Anthem, and yet, perhaps, my work up here in trying to +carry out true British justice is worth something. I hope so, at any +rate.” + +The constable was surprised at this outburst, for the sergeant was a +man of few words. He made no comment, however, but rose to his feet +and piled more wood upon the fire. What his thoughts were, he kept +to himself as he sat and watched the leaping flames and the sparks +dancing and circling up into the darkness. Marion and North sat upon +the opposite side near each other. Occasionally he glanced toward +them as they conversed together in low tones. A longing was entering +his own heart for the love and confidence of such a woman as Marion +Brisbane. Hitherto, he had thought little about it, being content with +his wandering life. But now he felt indescribably lonely. He seized a +stick and stirred the fire, which did not at all need stirring. Then +his pent-up feelings had to be given expression. He again rose to his +feet, and looking over at his companions began: + + “’Tis sweet to hear the watch-dogs’ honest bark + Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home, + ’Tis sweet to know an eye will mark our coming, + And grow brighter when we come.” + +“Getting sentimental, Tom, eh?” the sergeant queried. + +“Why shouldn’t I?” was the retort. “It’s catching, I guess.” + +The night was a hard one. The men took turns keeping the fire going, +but they slept little, owing to the cold. Marion determined to take her +share in watching, and the men did not oppose her wish. But when at +last, through extreme weariness, she did fall asleep, North and Rolfe +took off their short heavy coats, and laid them over her body, the same +as they had done the night before. Upon waking, she had chided them for +doing such a thing, and told them that they must not again run any risk +for her sake. The men had merely smiled, and remained silent. + +In the morning Marion felt very stiff and sore from the unaccustomed +exertions of the previous day. She said nothing, however, as they +started once more upon the trail. But she could not deceive the +sergeant, and he felt greatly worried. He knew that she could not +travel far that day, only a few miles at the most. Something had to be +done, and he turned over in his mind the best course to pursue. For a +time he could not decide, but when Rolfe began to limp painfully, owing +to an attack of snow-shoe cramp, he hesitated no longer. + +“Look here,” he began, “we shall never reach The Gap at the pace we are +going, and now that Tom is knocked out, matters are worse than ever. +You two must camp here while I go for assistance. I can reach The Gap +before night, round up a team of dogs and come back early to-morrow.” + +Marion’s face turned pale at the suggestion, although she said nothing. +Rolfe knew that the sergeant was right, although he felt badly at being +forced to give up. + +“‘Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!’” he quoted. + +“‘This is the state of man----’” + +“Never mind about your greatness,” the sergeant interrupted. “We know +all about that, and also your state at the present time. Get to work +at once and build as good a shelter as you can. There’s a fine clump +of trees right over there,” and he motioned to the left. “I’m sorry I +can’t help you.” + +He then turned to Marion, who was standing silently near. + +“Tom will look after you,” he told her. “Except for his poetry, he is +all right. He needs to be brought back to earth occasionally, that’s +all.” + +He then stooped and kissed her. For a few seconds she clung to him, and +there were tears in her eyes. + +“Take care of yourself, John,” she said, “I am sorry to give you so +much trouble. But for me, you both would be at The Gap by this time. +But, there, I must not detain you any longer.” + +Hour after hour North moved on his way, up hill and down, through +thick woods and across barren regions. He was greatly hampered by his +miserable snow-shoes. They lacked the spring and buoyancy of the ones +he had lost. Often they clogged with snow, and he could not tell at +what minute they might go to pieces. He was forced to use the greatest +care as he well knew how much depended upon his getting to The Gap +for assistance. Should anything happen to him, then Marion and the +constable would both perish. + +For some time he had been anxiously watching the sky, which was a dull +leaden color. He knew that a storm was not far away, and already the +wind was wailing among the trees. He hoped to outrace it, and if he +could cross a bad desolate tract of burnt land which he knew was ahead +before the tempest burst, he would feel quite secure. A storm in the +mountains was a thing to be dreaded. The weather had been fine of late, +exceptionally so, but he knew that it could not continue. The storm was +overdue, and when it did come, it was likely to be a most furious one. + +Ere long fine particles of snow filled the air, and flecked his body. +They soon grew thicker, and by the time he had reached the edge of the +burnt region the storm was most menacing. He looked anxiously out into +the open where the snow, driven by the now unimpeded wind, resembled +the levelled lances of thousands of mystic legions of the north. To +go back he must not. His only course was forward, with the hope that +he might reach the opposite side before the trail became completely +obliterated. + +Removing a mass of snow from his snow-shoes, and drawing his cap more +firmly about his face, North left the shelter of the forest and plunged +out into the driving storm. With head bent, and eyes fixed upon the +rapidly disappearing trail, he pressed steadily forward. It was a +hard struggle, and the cold was intense, piercing his body. At length +his progress became slower. His feet would slip provokingly off the +snow-shoes, and at times he found himself floundering around in the +deep snow, and only regaining the trail with considerable difficulty. +Often, too, he was forced to pause for breath, and to beat his hands +together in order to get some warmth into his numbed fingers. He +realised the seriousness of his situation, but he was determined not to +give up. He must reach the forest beyond. Marion’s life depended upon +his efforts, and he must not fail her. Again he struggled back upon the +trail from which he had wandered. Once more he peered keenly ahead, +hoping to catch sight of the friendly trees. But everything was blotted +from view, and his eyes ached from the lashing of the cruel snow. + +At length he felt that he could go no farther. He was becoming +bewildered. The roar of the wind sounded like a demon hurling itself +upon him. He groped for the trail like a blind man. He was almost +waist-deep in the snow, and the snow-shoes were off his feet. His +body was becoming numb. But he would not give up. He would fight the +monster, and win out. With another frantic effort he threw himself +forward, his hands reaching out. Then he lifted up his voice in one +great cry of despair, the first that had ever come from his lips in all +his years of service in the Force. + +And as he stood there, his face turned appealingly toward the forest, +the form of a man bending to the wind suddenly hove in sight. So +unexpected was this appearance that the sergeant gave a gasp of +surprise. The man seemed more than human as he advanced with long +strides. The storm whipping his great body appeared not to impede him +in the least. He was about to pass when North hailed him. + +“Help! help!” he cried. + +The traveller stopped short, swung quickly around, rubbed the snow from +his eyes, and peered keenly in the direction from which the sound had +come. Instantly North recognised Hugo, the trapper, and unconsciously +his numbed right hand groped for his revolver. Hugo, too, recognised +the sergeant, and noticing the movement of his hand, he gave a roar of +warning. + +“Drop that,” he ordered. “Heavens! man, are you crazy? This is no time +or place to pull a gun. What could you do against me? I guess you’d +better wait. What’s wrong, anyway?” + +“I’m all in,” was the reply. + +“H’m, you look it,” Hugo growled, as he stepped closer. “All in but +your spirit, eh? Man, I like your pluck. Here, take my hand, and I’ll +lift you out of that hole.” + +In another minute North was standing upon the trail, and then the two +men faced each other. The wind swirled the snow in furious gusts about +their bodies, at times almost hiding each other from view. North was +the first to speak. + +“You are my prisoner,” he said. “I order you to surrender.” + +Hugo’s only reply was to throw back his head, and emit a roar of +laughter. + +“Do you think I am joking?” the sergeant sternly asked. “I am on duty, +remember, so your best plan is to obey.” + +“Surrender! what am I to surrender, man? I’m here, but what are you +going to do with me? From all appearances you had better surrender to +me, and let me get you out of this. Let us stop this fooling and settle +down to business.” + +“And you won’t fight?” North asked in surprise. + +Hugo reached out, laid a heavy hand upon the sergeant’s shoulder, and +shook him. + +“Wake up,” he ordered. “What’s the matter with you? Do you realize +where you are? Fight! I’m not going to fight a half-crazed man.” + +The rough shake and the plain words brought North to his senses. He +looked around for an instant, and then his eyes sought his rescuer’s +face. + +“Forgive me,” he said. “But I guess I have been a little off my base. +And no wonder. I’ve been in hell.” + +“True to your orders, for all that, eh?” Hugo queried. “Lost, half +frozen, daft, and yet hanging on like a bulldog. Lord! is it any wonder +that the Force is what it is when it contains men like you? But tell +me, where is my daughter?” + +“Marion?” + +“Yes.” + +“Back there with Constable Rolfe. I was on my way to The Gap for aid +when this storm knocked me out. Will you help me?” + +“Is it a truce, then?” Hugo asked. + +“A truce to what?” + +“To our enmity. We are enemies, so it seems. But we must be friends for +a time to save my daughter.” + +“Yes, and to save the girl I love, and who has promised to be my wife,” +the sergeant replied. + +Hugo’s face darkened and a terrible temptation smote his heart. It was +only for an instant, however, and then reaching out, he seized North’s +mittened hand. + +“It is well,” he simply said. “Let it be the truce of the storm.” + + + + +CHAPTER 16 + +The Man of the Gap + + +“The gap” is a natural opening between the Yukon River region on the +east and the great mountains on the west. In fact, it is the one +door through which people pass, Indians and whites alike, on mining, +trading, or any other business. In former days native warriors passed +this way to wage war upon some distant tribe. It was a regular +Thermopylæe where a few men could hold an entire army at bay. Two +huge shoulders of rocks, devoid of any vegetation, oppose each other. +Through The Gap flows a little stream, draining a lake miles away. +By the side of this runs the trail, worn deep by the tread of many +feet, not only of human beings, but of moose, deer, bear, and other +animals of the north. Just within The Gap on the Eastward side is a +remarkable valley, several acres in extent, scooped, so it seems, out +of the mountains. This is completely sheltered from every wind which +blows, and had always formed a favorite camping-ground for Indians. It +is a most desirable place, for apart from the shelter it affords from +storms and enemies, mountain sheep and other game are abundant, while +the little stream and various lakes teem with fish, especially the King +Salmon. + +It was, therefore, but natural that Charles Norris, a clergyman sent +out by a great English Missionary Society, should choose this spot as +the strategic point in his work among the Indians. For long years he +and his faithful wife laboured among the tribes of the wandering foot. +They won them from heathen ways, and the influence of the Medicine Men. +A log church was built, and in due time a school for the children. A +linguist of no mean ability, Mr. Norris learned the native tongue, and +gave the Indians hymns, prayers, and portions of Scripture in their +own language. It was a happy community, uncontaminated by any of the +degenerating influences of so-called civilisation. When the Indians +returned from the hills, the church and mission house were always +filled with earnest seekers after the truth, and the hearts of the +missionaries overflowed with thankfulness to Him who had wrought such +wonders through their humble efforts. + +Often they would look upon the great mountains, and in their majesty +and surrounding strength they would see the encompassing arms of the +Almighty. To them The Gap Mission was what Jerusalem was to the people +of Hebrew days. Their eyes would kindle and their hearts thrill as they +dwelt upon the words of the ancient poet: + + “As the mountains are about Jerusalem, + So the Lord is round about His people.” + +Hardly a morning passed that Charles Norris did not stand at the door +of his house and say, either silently or aloud: + + “‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, + From whence cometh my help.’” + +It was a great day for the missionaries and Indians alike when the +first copies containing hymns, prayers, and portions of Scripture +reached them from England. Already there were leaders trained to +read, and these small books were carried by the natives to their +hunting-grounds. There night after night, where the two or three +gathered together, the leader would read the wonderful words contained +in the little manual. He would then repeat a number of prayers, and +all would join in singing some favourite hymn. To the missionaries it +seemed as if the Pentecostal fire had really come down upon those lost +sheep of the Rocky Mountains. + +But alas! great changes ere long took place. This happy state of +affairs was not destined to endure. As the serpent entered the Garden +of Eden and destroyed its peaceful repose, so it was at The Gap. With +the discovery of gold, thousands of men poured into the country. They +traversed every trail, followed up every valley in their mad rush for +wealth. Although many of the newcomers were good men, who respected the +law of God and man, there were others, the scum of civilisation, who +polluted everything and place they touched. Little by little they led +away the Indians from their allegiance to what they had been taught. +For a time the natives resisted, but their thirst for hootch, and the +temptations the white men set before them, proved too strong. Sadly +Charles Norris and his wife saw their influence wane, and their work +of years brought to ruin. They pleaded, they prayed, but all in vain. +At last the day came when only two were left--an old leader, Tom, and +his faithful wife, Kate. Nothing could divert their loyalty to the +missionaries, and they, too, grieved over the defection of the members +of their tribe. + +It was a trying time when the mission school had to be given up. +The children slipped away, one by one, a number of the girls being +led astray by white men. The loss of Zell affected them keenly. They +had hoped much from this girl, who was brighter than the others, and +possessed of nobler qualities. They had made much of her, and she was +to them almost like a daughter. + +But the greatest blow of all to Charles Norris was when his wife +sickened and died. For a time he was completely bewildered. He laid her +to rest in the little Indian burying place nearby, and once again took +up his weary and lonely task. Nothing could induce him to leave his +post of duty. His Bishop came, pleaded, and reasoned with him, but to +no purpose. + +“My place is here,” he had quietly replied. “The Indians may come back, +and when they do, I must be waiting to receive them. I have no other +home, and the interests of the outside world are nothing to me.” + +And so he remained, living alone in his house, attended by Kate, the +Indian woman. She washed and cooked for him, and did what she could for +his welfare. His wants were few, his mind now being entirely occupied +with earnest prayers on behalf of his wandering flock, and preparing a +larger manual of worship for the natives. + +“They may need it some day,” he had told his Bishop. “I have spent many +years in studying the language, and it may be a help to others when I +am gone. I feel sure that the Lord will not let all my work come to +naught.” + +So great were his hope and faith, that every evening, both summer and +winter, he held the simple service in the log church. Exactly at seven +o’clock he would ring the little bell, which was fastened to a rude +frame near the door. When the sound had ceased he would look up the +valley, and listen intently for the music of hurrying feet which no +longer came as in the past. Only Tom and Kate would come, shuffling +along, to take their places near the chancel steps. The missionary +would then enter the little vestry, don his robes, and read the +service, never forgetting to pray for the absent ones. + +One cold night after service the missionary returned to his lonely +house. Lighting a candle, he stirred up the fire in the sheet-iron +heater, and added a couple of sticks. He then sat down at the rough +deal table nearby which contained a number of books, several sheets +of paper, pen, and ink. His eyes rested upon his translation of +the beautiful benediction of St. Paul in his second letter to the +Church at Corinth. “Nyiwhet Kekwadhut Jesus Kreist vit chekoorzi ako +Vittekwichanchyo chettigwinidhun, ako Chunkyo Rsotitinyoo nichya sheg +Myiwhot tutthug zyunkoli. Amen.” Carefully he compared this with the +English, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and +the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with you all. Amen.” For some +time he sat there pondering over these words. He had no doubt about +their truth, but somehow it did seem as if they were not applicable to +him and his scattered flock. Grace had been strangely withheld of late, +love had grown cold, and the bond of fellowship broken. The enemies of +righteousness had triumphed, and truth had been trampled under foot. +He and his two faithful Indians were alone left to uphold the standard +of the Lord in that desolate wilderness. Was it really any use for him +to strive longer? Perhaps it might be better for him to go elsewhere. +Surely there was other work for him to do. Was he only wasting his +time by remaining at The Gap? + +Suddenly there flashed into his mind the lament of the Lord, “I sought +for a man that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before +me for the land, and I found none.” These words startled him, and he +quickly turned to the twenty-second chapter of the prophet Ezekiel. He +read them with kindling eyes, and his heart beating a little faster. +Why had they come to him just then? Was it a message from on high? A +warning for him not to leave his post of duty? Did the Lord mean for +him to remain there? Was there something yet for him to do? Yes, he +would stay, and when the time came that a man was specially needed, he, +Charles Norris, would be found standing in The Gap. This resolve gave +him considerable comfort, so once more he picked up his pen and went on +with his work. + +For perhaps an hour he sat there, lost in his self-imposed task of +translating the clear brief English words into the long, forbidding +ones of the native language. He was at length aroused by a loud knock +upon the door. He started, and looked around. At once the door opened +and a man entered, who stood gazing for a few seconds at the scene +before him. + +“I want shelter for the night,” he roughly said. “An’ grub, too. I’m +starving.” + +He then moved toward the stove, and the missionary noticed that he +limped painfully. + +“Are you hurt?” he asked, rising from his seat and stepping forward. + +The visitor was about to make a savage reply, when he suddenly stopped. +Something about the old man restrained him. He could not tell what it +was, but Bill, the Slugger, for once was abashed. He put up his right +hand as if to keep the missionary back. The latter interpreted this +motion as a sign of faintness. + +“Come, come, sit right down here,” he said, drawing up a chair to the +fire. “I shall give you something to eat at once, and make you a cup of +strong tea.” + +With a groan Bill slumped into the chair, and when food was brought, +he ate ravenously. He gulped down the tea, and handed back his cup for +more. + +“Say, ye don’t happen to have somethin’ with a kick in it, do ye?” he +asked. + +“You mean hootch, I suppose,” and a sad expression overspread the +missionary’s face. “No, I have no use for the stuff.” + +“It’s good enough, though, when it has the right kick,” the visitor +mournfully replied. + +“It had the wrong kick among my flock, and ruined my work here.” + +“Did it? That’s too bad.” Bill was feeling in a better humour now. + +“An’ so ye lost ’em all, eh?” + +“All but two; old Tom and his wife.” + +“Religion doesn’t take much hold on Injuns, so I’ve heard. Ye’ll give +up yer job now, I s’pose. Much in it, eh?” + +“In what way?” + +“Oh, in money. D’ye git much fer hangin’ out here? It’s a wonder ye +don’t leave.” + +“All I have in this world is here,” was the quiet reply. “My total +earthly possessions are under this roof, and out among the trees, a +short distance from the building.” + +“What! a cache?” + +“No--my wife’s grave.” + +This unexpected reply startled Bill, and he gasped, knowing not what +to say. His movement caused him to groan with pain, and only with +difficulty he smothered an angry oath. + +“Is there anything I can do for your leg?” the missionary asked. “I am +quite a doctor, so might be able to help you.” + +“Yes, it’s bad,” Bill acknowledged. “Hurt it on the trail. Look.” When +the left bare leg was exposed, Norris beheld a nasty swelling, just +above the ankle. + +“It looks like a sprain,” the missionary remarked, examining it +closely. “Hot applications and iodine will give you relief.” + +The visitor made no comment but let the missionary wait upon him. Hot +cloths were then applied, after which the swollen part was well painted +with iodine. + +“There, I guess that will do for the present,” Norris said, as he rose +from his knees, corked the bottle and placed it upon a shelf. + +“A rest will do you good. You may sleep in that little room over there. +You will find it quite warm.” + +“I’d rather sit here fer a while,” Bill replied. “Ye don’t mind if I +smoke, do ye?” + +“Not in the least. The Indians always smoked when they came to see me. +Have you any tobacco?” + +“No, I haven’t. Say, ye don’t happen to have any, do ye?” + +“Yes, there is part of a plug which old Tom left the other day. He +won’t mind you having it.” + +Bill eagerly seized the tobacco, quickly whittled off several slices, +and filled his blackened pipe. With a sigh of contentment, he leaned +back in the chair. + +“My! that’s good,” he said. “I’ve been sufferin’ fer days fer a smoke.” + +“Well, enjoy yourself, then, while I do some work,” Norris replied. “We +can talk later.” + +Seated once more at the table, the missionary was soon engrossed in +his work. The visitor watched him curiously as he sent big wreathes +of smoke into the air. And truly it was a scene worthy of a great +artist--the venerable, white-haired man, with the long flowing beard, +noble forehead, and eyes expressive of sympathy and devotion. The +lighted candle, and the humble surroundings seemed to enhance the face +and form of the man, bestowing upon him a patriarchal dignity, and the +glorifying of the commonplace. + +Of all this, however, the silent man near the stove thought nothing. +His mind was dwelling upon more material things, such as the amount of +money the missionary might have on his person or concealed about the +house, and whether it would be worth the trouble and the risk to knock +him on the head in order to find out. He wondered if he would fight +if ordered to produce anything of value. He believed that he could +handle him all right, and that he would easily submit when threatened +by a revolver. But of the old man’s eyes he was not so sure. There was +something about them that made him afraid, and awed even his reckless +and villainous nature. No respect for the self-denying and gentle man +of God entered his calloused heart. And gratitude for favors received, +which even the dumb brutes possess, was to him a thing unknown. + +At length the missionary laid down his pen and looked over at his +visitor. + +“You must be very tired,” he said. “It is my bedtime, so if you will +excuse me, I shall retire. Make yourself perfectly at home here, and if +you need any help in the night with your ankle, call me. But, as is +always my custom, I shall have a few prayers.” + +At once the old man kneeled down and offered up his humble petitions. +He prayed especially for the wandering flock, not forgetting to ask a +blessing upon the stranger under his roof. Thanking God for all His +past mercies, and committing himself and his visitor to the Divine +protection, he rose from his knees and picked up his candle. + +When the missionary began to pray, a cynical and a mocking expression +overspread Bill’s face. With unbent head he watched the “daft old +man,” as he considered him. But as the praying continued, some chord +of memory was touched, and for the first time in years he recalled the +little prayer he had learned at his mother’s knees. It was merely a +passing emotion, however, but it brought a softer expression into his +eyes. + +“Are there any Injuns near here?” he asked, as the missionary was about +to leave the room. + +“Yes, several bands are out in the hills, so I understand.” + +“Where?” + +“Due west, straight up the valley. Good night, and may you rest well.” + + + + +CHAPTER 17 + +The Trapper Arrives + + +Charles Norris was an early riser, and it was his custom to be at work +hours before the sun stole down into the valley. But the next morning +he departed from this habit of years, and remained in bed longer than +usual. He did not wish to disturb his guest, for, judging by what he +had heard in the night, he believed that his rest had been broken owing +to the pain in his leg, and so was forced to move around a great deal. +Once he had asked if he could do anything for him, and had been told +that nothing could be done. After that the missionary had gone to sleep +again, and did not awake until his usual time. + +When at length he did get up and dress, he walked softly out into the +other room. He made as little noise as possible in placing several +sticks in the stove, and even postponed his breakfast. He sat down at +the table and busied himself for a while with his translation work. At +last he arose and went over to the corner of the room where he kept his +supply of food. Finding nothing there, he was surprised. He went back +for his candle and made a thorough examination of the corner. But not a +scrap of meat, bread, or flour, was left. All was gone. Somewhat dazed, +the missionary wondered what could have happened to his provisions. +Then an idea came to his mind which caused him some uneasiness. Walking +rapidly to the room where he believed his guest had slept, he held the +candle above his head and looked in. But no sign of the visitor could +he see. In fact, the bed had not been slept in at all. Then he knew for +a certainty that the man had gone, and taken with him the scanty supply +of food the house contained. + +“My, oh, my! I am surprised!” the missionary murmured. “He need not +have stolen that food, as I would gladly have given it to him. Why did +he commit that sin?” + +Charles Norris was of such a trustful disposition that it was hard +for him to see evil in anyone. So gentle was he that his gentleness +became a weakness when dealing with the stern facts of life. Had his +nature been moulded along more rugged lines he would have succeeded +better with his Indians. They considered his gentleness and patience +as a weakness in his make-up, and always imposed upon him, even when +most amenable to his teaching. Perhaps if he had been more severe, +and mingled with his gentleness some of the manly fibre of the Great +Master, it might have been better. But that he could not do. He would +win through gentle love alone, and in no other way, forgetting in his +holy enthusiasm that the truest love is at times closely linked with +the chastening rod. He knew that there was much evil in the world, but +he believed that the overmastering weapon to conquer it was love. He +trusted his unknown visitor that night, and when he found that he had +wilfully deceived him it was a severe shock. + +Returning to the table, he sat down, and remained for some time lost in +thought. At length he turned and looked toward a little box upon the +shelf where a small clock was ticking. He rose to his feet, went over, +took down the box, opened it and peered in. It was empty! He had not +left much money there, but it was all that he had. + +“So he took that!” he exclaimed. “I can understand his stealing food. +But my money! The Indians, even when most uncouth, never stole anything +from this house. And to think that a white man, and one I trusted, +should be the first to steal from me!” + +The missionary was standing near the shelf, when a gentle tap sounded +upon the door, and old Tom at once entered. + +“Good morning, Gikhi,” he accosted in the native tongue. “You are +alone, I see.” + +“And why shouldn’t I be, Tom?” the missionary asked. “Am I not +generally alone?” + +“Yes, but not last night. Where is the stranger?” + +“Did you see him?” + +“Tom saw him. Does Gikhi know who he is, and where he came from?” + +“No; I never asked him.” + +“Bad white man, ugh!” + +“How do you know that, Tom?” + +“Tom old man now. Tom knows much. Tom sees here,” and he touched his +eyes with the fingers of his right hand. He then placed his hand to +his forehead. “Tom sees more here,” he added, while a quaint smile +overspread his face. “White man steal grub, eh?” and he looked over +toward the corner of the room. + +“Why, yes! How did you know that?” + +“Tom get Gikhi grub now,” was the native’s reply. + +“I can’t pay you, Tom. The white man took my money.” + +“Tom doesn’t want pay. Tom glad to give grub. Gikhi good man.” + +“Thank you, Tom. You are a true friend. I shall not forget this.” + +When Tom had gone the missionary returned to his seat by the table. He +did not pick up his pen as usual, but sat staring straight before him. +Tom’s presence had brought back memories of other days when morning by +morning Indians had come to his house on various missions, and they had +always received a hearty welcome. They needed him then, but he needed +them now. This was a new and startling idea. He wondered why he had +never thought of it before. Had he done too much for the Indians, and +had not allowed them to do enough for him? “Service for others” had +always been his motto, and he had given of himself without stint. And +the sense of responsibility, and of giving without receiving, had been +an unspeakable joy. But had he thus taught the natives? Sadly he was +forced to confess to himself that he had not. He had presented to them +a distorted view of the life and teaching of the Great Master. Their +characters, accordingly, had not been developed, and in the time of +temptation they had fallen away. + +“Forgive me, Lord! forgive me!” he murmured. “I did it unwittingly. +I am not worthy to be called Thy servant. But now my eyes are opened +and I see. Lord, give me another chance. Cast me not away in my old +age, until I show to Thy wandering ones the true glory of loving and +unselfish service.” + +He ceased, and his grey eyes glowed anew with the light of a great +resolve. Charles Norris, the missionary, had made a wonderful +discovery. It came to him in a moment of time, but it had taken long +years of toil and hardship, of sorrow and failure, to bring it to pass. + +He was aroused from his reverie by a heavy knock upon the door. Ere he +could rise, the door was thrust open, and Hugo, the trapper, entered, +bearing in his arms the limp form of Zell, the half-breed girl. Hugo +staggered as he started to cross the floor, and he would have dropped +the girl had not the missionary stepped quickly forward and caught her +in his arms. He then carried her over and laid her upon a little cot +near the stove. Hugo followed him, and looked down anxiously upon the +unconscious one. + +“I made it!” he gasped. “Lord! I thought I’d never do it!” + +“Who is the girl?” the missionary asked. “What has happened to her?” + +Hugo made no reply, but sat down wearily upon the nearest seat, +which was nothing but a rough bench. His face was drawn and haggard, +expressing more plainly than words the great struggle he had made. The +missionary wisely forbore questioning further, but turned at once and +prepared a cup of tea. + +“This is all I have to offer you, now,” he apologised, handing Hugo +a steaming cup. “I had a visitor last night, and he took nearly +everything but this.” + +Hugo drank the tea, and giving back the cup, stretched out his hands +toward the stove. + +“My! that heat feels good,” he said. “That poor girl must be chilled +through; I kept her as warm as I could, but it was a hard job.” + +Going at once into his bedroom, the missionary brought out a thick +blanket and laid it carefully over the girl’s body. + +“What is the matter with her?” he asked, turning to the trapper. + +“She’s crazy, that’s what’s wrong. I found her wandering around in the +snow, singing and making queer noises, and so I brought her here.” + +“But what happened to her? How did she come to be wandering about +alone?” + +“It was due to a devil who calls himself a man,” Hugo savagely replied. +“I’m just longing to get my hands on that skunk, and I’ll----” + +Hugo paused without finishing his sentence, and the doubled-up first +of his right hand shot straight before him. There was no doubt about +what he would do should he come across the man responsible for Zell’s +condition. + +Just then Tom entered, and laid a supply of food upon the table. He +looked first at Hugo, whom he well knew, and then at the covered form +on the cot. Indian like, he made no comment, but drew the missionary’s +attention to the food. + +“Never mind that now, Tom,” Mr. Norris replied. “Go and bring Kate here +at once. I want her to look after the girl over there. I don’t know +what to do for her. She should have a woman’s care, anyway.” + +“Is the white girl very sick, Gikhi?” + +“I am afraid so. She has had a hard time on the trail, and her head is +queer.” + +Tom at once left the building, and in a remarkably short time he was +back again with his wife close at his heels. The latter, a stout, +motherly-looking woman, went at once to the side of the cot. She turned +back the blanket, and when she had drawn aside the hood which almost +concealed the girl’s face, she uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +“What’s the matter, Kate?” the missionary asked, hurrying to her side. + +The Indian woman made no reply, but pointed excitedly at the girl. +Owing to the dimness of the room, and failing sight, Mr. Norris bent +down over the cot and peered at the girl’s face. Then a great cry of +concern broke from his lips, and dropping upon his knees he reached out +trembling hands. + +“It’s Zell; it’s Zell!” he exclaimed. “It’s our own lost child come +back again! Quick, Kate, remove her hood and let me have a good look at +her. Light the candle, Tom, and bring it here.” + +When his orders had been speedily obeyed, he took the candle in his +left hand, and held it so that the light would shine upon the girl’s +face. Catching one of Zell’s limp, cold hands in his, he felt her pulse. + +“No, she is not dead, thank God. But she needs help at once. You will +take good care of her, Kate.” + +“Ah, ah, Gikhi, Kate will look well after the girl,” was the quiet +reply. “Tom will carry her to our cabin.” + +“No, no, she must stay here,” the missionary insisted. “She has come +back home, and this is the place for her. My wife, were she alive, +would want our child to remain here.” + +“She is not with us now, Gikhi, remember,” Tom replied. “Kate knows +what to do for Zell better than white men.” + +“You are right, Tom,” the missionary agreed. “Zell shall go with Kate. +She is the proper one to look after her.” + +“Good, good,” Tom replied, as he stooped and lifted the girl in his +arms. In another minute he was out of the house, with Kate following +close at his heels. + +The missionary stood watching them until they passed within their own +abode. He then closed the door and came over to Hugo’s side. + +“You are tired,” he said. “Let me get you something to eat, and after +that you must have a good sleep.” + +The trapper looked up wearily into the old man’s face. The missionary’s +interest and sympathy touched him deeply. For the time, he was no +longer the great strong Hugo of the trail, a modern Esau, with his +heart against every man, except the unfortunate. He was as a child, +tired out, ready to rest. + +After Hugo had eaten the simple meal, the missionary conducted him to +the room where he had taken Bill, the Slugger, the night before. + +“There is a good bed,” he told him. “It has not been slept on for some +time. The man who stayed here last night was suffering too much to +sleep. He left before I was up.” + +“Who was that?” Hugo asked. + +“I do not know his name. But he had a bad leg, which he said he injured +on the trail. I did what I could for him, but it gave him no relief. +Anyway, he was able to travel and carry with him my entire stock of +provisions, and all the money I had.” + +“What! did he steal them?” Hugo asked in surprise. + +“Yes, but, then, perhaps, he needed them more than I did. If he had +only asked me, I would gladly have given him food, and money, too, for +that matter.” + +Hugo was about to question further, but refrained, and stretched +himself out upon the bed. Carefully and almost tenderly the missionary +covered him with thick blankets, closed the door and went back to his +table and writing. + +All through the day the trapper slept, and was only aroused by the +sound of the bell outside. Wondering what it could mean, he quickly +rose, went to the door and looked out. Then he understood, so closing +the door he walked over to the little church. The bell was silent now, +for the ringer had already gone into the building. Hugo also entered +and sat down on a seat near the door. Old Tom was alone, sitting in +his accustomed place. Presently the missionary came from the vestry +and began the service. Although Hugo could not understand a word that +was being said, he was much impressed. The church was cold, and dimly +lighted by two candles. The missionary’s voice was intensely earnest, +and a feeling of great respect came into the trapper’s heart as he +listened. What wonderful faith the man must have, he mused. How other +men would have given up long ago. + +And as he watched, he gave a sudden start. A strange light seemed to +surround the two worshippers. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that he was +mistaken. But, no, the light was there, wonderfully soft, and yet much +stronger than that of the candles. It resembled the light which had +surrounded the sleeping child that night on the trail. He strained his +eyes, half expecting to behold some angel visitants. And as he looked, +the light gradually faded, and by the time the service was ended it had +disappeared altogether. + +Hugo slipped out of the church, and when the missionary returned to his +house he found him sitting near the stove. + +“Did you have a nice service?” the trapper asked. + +“A remarkable one to-night,” was the quiet reply. + +“But did you have any congregation? Are not most of the natives away?” + +“You are quite right. Tom was the only Indian present, as Kate +could not leave Zell. But I was wonderfully inspired at the service +to-night. The church seemed to be filled with a great light, and I am +certain that I saw angelic forms filling all the seats, and crowding +the building. It may have been an hallucination, though to me it +was very real and heartening. But I suppose you will say it is all +nonsense. That is too often the way with people of the world who cannot +understand such things.” + +Hugo made no reply just then, but that night as he sat smoking, he +turned abruptly to the missionary, busy at his writing. + +“How is the girl?” he asked. “Have you seen her to-day?” + +“Oh, yes, I have been over several times. There is no change as yet, +although Kate thinks that she will recover.” + +Hugo smoked in silence for a few minutes. At length he rose to his +feet, and bent over the table. + +“Will you do me a favor?” he asked. + +“I shall be only too glad to do so if it is within my power,” was the +reply. + +The trapper at once thrust his right hand into an inside pocket, +brought forth the diamond ring, and held it in the palm of his hand. +Seeing the look of wonder in the old man’s eyes, he smiled. + +“It is no wonder that you are surprised, Mr. Norris, for one doesn’t +come across such as this every day. But I found it in a cabin and I +want to give it to you.” + +“Give it to me!” the missionary exclaimed. “Why what in the world would +I do with such a thing as that? I have no use for so valuable a ring as +I take that to be.” + +“Yes, I believe it is valuable. You can sell it some day, and it will +repay you a little for your care of that girl.” + +“But I don’t want any pay for that.” + +“So you won’t take it, then?” There was a note of disappointment in the +trapper’s voice. + +“No, I could not think of doing such a thing.” + +“Will you keep it, then, until I come back? I am going to leave early +in the morning, and may not return for several days. I am afraid of +losing it on the trail.” + +“I don’t mind doing that,” the missionary agreed. “It should be safe +here, for I have few visitors, and the one I had last night is not +likely to come again.” + +He took the ring in his hand and examined it closely. He noted the +flashing lustre of the diamond when the light of the candle fell upon +it. + +“I wonder what fair finger this once encircled,” he mused, as if to +himself. “It’s a symbol of that life of which I was once so fond. It +brings back old memories which I thought I had forever forgotten. But I +left all those things behind when I enlisted beneath the Banner of the +Cross.” + +“Are you happier now than you were then?” Hugo asked. + +“I have never really thought about it in that way,” was the reply. “But +I know I am, for I am in possession of a Great Treasure which gives me +peace in times of storm, and joy in the midst of tribulation. A man who +once has that need never worry about losing the things of the world.” + +“I believe you are right,” Hugo fervently replied, as he returned to +his seat by the fire, and continued his smoke. + + + + +CHAPTER 18 + +A Cowardly Deed + + +When Charles Norris awoke the next morning he found that Hugo had gone. +The previous evening he had shared with him some of the food which old +Tom had brought to the house. He had asked the trapper no questions +and was unaware of the errand which caused him to leave so early. This +was but natural in a country where men as a rule are reticent about +their movements. The missionary, who for years had known this strange +wanderer of the trails, was pleased at the apparent change which had +come over him. He had met him several times out in the hills, and had +heard numerous stories from the Indians and others about his great +strength and fierceness of manner. He had, accordingly, considered +him as an untamable being who for some special reason had fled from +civilisation and had buried himself in the northern wilderness. His +sympathy in caring for the half-breed girl, and his gentleness while +in the house, came somewhat as a surprise to the missionary. He was +pleased, too, that the trapper had not scoffed when he told him about +the vision he had seen during the service. There must be some good in +the fellow, after all, he thought. + +After he had prepared and eaten his breakfast, the missionary left +the house and went over to his cache, situated several feet from the +ground between four big trees. Here his extra supply of provisions was +safe from prowling animals. He carried with him a small ladder which +he placed against one of the trees, mounted it and brought down such +things as he needed. These he at once took over to Tom’s cabin and laid +them on the floor. + +“I bring these to pay you back for what you gave me,” he explained. +“You will find some tea there, too. How is Zell?” + +“Better this morning, Gikhi,” the Indian replied. “Her eyes see, and +her tongue speaks straight.” + +“Ah, that is good, Tom. You and Kate have done well.” + +He walked over to the bed on the floor where the girl was lying, +stooped down and looked into her face. Then he took one of her hands in +his, and gave it a slight pressure. + +“Do you know me, dear?” he asked. + +For a few seconds Zell stared straight at him, as if trying to recall +something. Then a slight expression of understanding dawned in her +eyes, and her brow wrinkled. This was followed immediately by a look of +fear as she raised her right hand and struck feebly at the missionary. + +“Go away, go away!” she cried. “Don’t, Bill, don’t! Oh, let me go!” + +“Hush, hush,” Norris soothed. “You are safe here with friends. Don’t +you know me, Zell? It is your own Gikhi who has come to you.” + +“Gikhi! Gikhi!” the girl repeated. “Not Bill?” + +“No, no. Bill is not here. Just Gikhi, Tom, and Kate.” + +With a sigh Zell closed her eyes and remained very still. The +missionary watched her for a few minutes until he was certain that +she was asleep. He then knelt upon the floor by her side, and remained +a long time in silent prayer. Tom and Kate sat upon the floor, and +with bowed heads waited for the missionary to rise. When he did so, he +turned to the faithful natives, and in a low voice told them to summon +him when Zell awoke. He then left the building with the intention of +going to his own house. But Tom followed close behind, and when the +door had been closed, he touched the missionary reverently upon the arm. + +“Will Zell get well, Gikhi?” he asked in the Indian tongue. + +“Let us hope so,” Norris replied, stopping and looking at the native. +“I have asked the Good Lord to make her well, so we must leave +everything in His hands now. He will do what is best, never doubt.” + +“But the Good Lord didn’t make her that way, Gikhi. He had nothing to +do with it.” + +“I suppose not, but He can cure her, nevertheless.” + +“Did you hear her speak about Bill, Gikhi?” + +“I did. She seemed to be very much afraid of him.” + +“He is a bad man, Gikhi. Will the Good Lord punish him?” + +“Most likely He will. The Judge of all the earth will do right.” + +“But doesn’t the good Lord often leave us to judge and punish, Gikhi?” + +“He often does, Tom, when it is necessary. But in this case there is +nothing we can do. We do not know who Bill is, so how can we punish +him? If the Police knew what he did they might track him down.” + +“But doesn’t Gikhi know? It was Bill who stole his grub and money.” + +At this information the missionary started and his eyes opened wide +with surprise. + +“Are you telling me the truth?” he asked. “Was it really that man who +injured our little girl?” + +“It was, Gikhi. I am telling you the truth. When did you know Tom to +lie?” + +“Is it possible that I fed and cared for the villain who hurt Zell? If +I had known! If I had known!” + +“What would you have done, Gikhi?” + +“What would I have done?” The missionary stared at the Indian. He then +placed his hand to his forehead, a sure sign of his perplexity. “I +don’t know, Tom,” he at last confessed. “I am not sure what I would +have done. I must go home and think.” + +He walked slowly away, leaving the Indian gazing after him. Tom turned +partly round as if to go back into the house. But he paused, and +looked far up the valley. His eyes burned with the fire of a strong +resolve, and his hands clenched hard. Years of Christian teaching could +not altogether crush out the wild impulse of his nature which he had +inherited from countless generations of warriors. Old though he was, he +felt the surge of revenge welling strong in his heart. + +“Gikhi doesn’t know what he would have done to Bill,” he mused. “He +doesn’t know what he will do now. Maybe Tom knows what to do. Ah, ah, +Tom knows.” + +The missionary spent most of the day within his own house, busy with +his writing. He was anxious to get his work done as soon as possible +that he might send it outside at the first opportunity, thence to be +forwarded to England for printing. He knew that it would be two years, +at least, before he could receive the first copy for revision, and then +further delay ere it would be completed. By that time the Indians +might be ready to return, so he hoped, and would be anxious for the +enlarged books of devotion. + +Several times during the afternoon he went over to see how Zell was +getting along. On his last visit, just as the sun was disappearing +beyond the highest mountain peaks, he was delighted to find that the +girl recognised him, and gave a slight smile as he spoke to her. She +faintly murmured the one word “Tim,” and tried to tell him about her +lover. But she was so weak that the missionary advised her not to talk +just then, but to wait until she was stronger. He noticed that Tom was +busy mending his snow-shoes, and asked him where he was going. + +“Out to the hills, mebbe,” was the evasive reply. + +“After game?” + +“Ah, ah. Wolf, mebbe.” + +The missionary asked no further questions, although he wondered why +Tom should go hunting for a wolf. He forgot all about this incident, +however, as he once again rang the little bell and began the evening +service. His heart was full of gratitude at Zell’s speedy recovery, +which he felt was a direct answer to his prayers. He offered up special +thanks that night, and Kate, who was present instead of her husband, +was deeply impressed. + +“The Good Lord has answered Gikhi’s prayer,” she told him when the +service was ended. + +“There is no doubt about it,” was the reply. “He has promised to hear +us when we ask Him in faith. He never fails His people.” + +“Will he bring back the Indians, Gikhi?” + +“He will, He will, Kate, in His own way, and in His own good time. We +must be patient and keep on praying. He is testing us now, no doubt, +that our faith in Him may be strengthened. Perhaps we have trusted too +much to our own efforts, and not enough to Him.” + +That night the missionary bent over his table, while time sped unheeded +by. He worked later than usual, for Love was the great theme which +occupied his mind. It thrilled his entire being, and drove all sleep +from his eyes. + +“This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. +Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for +his friends.” + +He had translated these wonderful words of the Master, and yet he was +not satisfied. He longed to express them in such a way that the Indians +would have no doubt as to their meaning. He wanted them to know that +love was the greatest thing in the world, and that the proof of love +was service, even to the giving of one’s life, if necessary. Not in +receiving, but in giving, was to serve aright. If he could only impress +the natives with that great truth, how much might be accomplished. + +So deeply engrossed was he with his task, that he did not heed the +opening of the door, which was never barred, nor the stealthy entrance +of Bill, the Slugger, into the room. He was near the table when the +missionary first became aware of his presence. He was greatly startled, +and the pen dropped from his hand. Seeing who it was, a peculiar +expression appeared in his eyes. + +“Where did you come from?” he asked. “I wasn’t expecting you.” + +“Ye wern’t, eh?” the visitor snarled. “Thought I’d gone fer sure, did +ye?” + +“Certainly, after what you did to me.” The missionary was standing +now behind the table, his tall form drawn to its full height. “But I +am glad you have come back. Is there anything I can do for you? How is +your leg?” + +“It hurts like hell.” + +The oath annoyed the missionary, and his eyes flashed with anger. He +thought, too, of this man’s treatment of Zell. What effect would mild +words have upon such a creature? He recalled how the prophets of old +had denounced sinners, and even Christ, Himself, had spoken sternly +when it was necessary. He restrained himself, however, wishing to give +the man another chance. + +“I am sorry you stole from me,” he said. “Had you asked me, I would +have given you all that food, and the money, too, for that matter. Why +did you commit that sin?” + +“Say, are you a fool or bughouse?” Bill questioned. “Ye must be one or +the other to talk sich nonsense.” + +“I am a fool,” was the unexpected reply. “Yes, like the apostles of +old, I am a fool for Christ’s sake, that I might win souls for Him.” + +“An’ so ye’ve made a mess of the hull d-- business, eh?” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Haven’t yer Injuns left ye? If ye hadn’t been sich a fool, maybe they +would have thought more of ye.” + +“Perhaps they would. Anyway, I did it all for the best.” + +“If ye’d used a club instead of so many d-- whining prayers, they’d had +more respect fer ye. It’s the big stick that does things these days.” + +“I don’t believe it.” The words leaped forth with such fiery vehemence +that Bill was surprised. The missionary’s eyes were now blazing with +indignation. His clenched hands rested upon the table as he faced his +visitor. “You may sneer all you like at prayers, but it was through +earnest prayer that the girl you so vilely injured in some way, I know +not how, is now recovering.” + +For an instant Bill was caught off guard. His eyes expressed surprise, +mingled with fear. Immediately he regained his self-confidence, +however, laughed, and uttered another oath. + +“Say, what are ye talkin’ about?” he asked. “I know nuthin’ about any +girl. I wish to G-- I could run across a pretty one here.” + +The missionary made no reply. He stood very erect, looking full into +the face of the man before him. He was trying to read his soul, to +detect, if possible, whether he was speaking the truth. Before that +straight steady gaze, Bill’s eyes shifted, and then dropped. The +nobleness of this man of God stirred his heart with anger. He could not +withstand that silent, unwavering look. It aroused to fury the devil +within him more than biting words of reproach. His face assumed an ugly +expression, and stepping forward, he leaned across the table. + +“Look here,” he roared, “d’ye think I’ve got time to waste in listenin’ +to sich d-- nonsense? The girl ye speak about is nuthin’ to me. I don’t +care whether she lives or dies. But you’ve got something I want, an’ +the sooner ye hand it over, the better. D’ye know what I mean?” + +“Why, no,” the missionary replied, shrinking back a little from the +excited man. + +“It’s the ring ye’ve got hidden somewhere. That’s what I want, so out +with it.” + +“Oh!” The missionary started as if stabbed with a knife. He +comprehended now the purpose of this man’s visit. The real vileness of +his nature was fully revealed. + +“What are ye waitin’ fer?” Bill demanded. “Didn’t ye hear what I said?” + +“Yes, I heard, but I am waiting for you to recover your senses.” + +“My senses are all right,” Bill retorted. “But you won’t have any +senses left to recover if you don’t git a hustle on. I want that ring, +and at once.” + +“How do you know that I have a ring?” + +“H’m, I know, all right. Didn’t I see Hugo, the trapper, give it to you +last night?” + +“And were you watching?” + +“Sure, I was watchin’. Ye don’t keep any blinds or curtains to yer +windows, see? Oh, I saw the ring, an’ know where it came from, too. +Hugo killed Bill Haines an’ his wife to git that. But I want it, so +hurry up.” + +“What! was it the cause of murder?” the missionary asked, greatly +horrified. “Where? When?” + +“Along the Yukon, near the C.D. Cut-off. Hugo killed Bill Haines an’ +his wife, an’ threw their bodies into the river.” + +“How do you know this?” was the unexpected question. + +“Never mind how I know. It will all come out when the Police git +through with their job. But hurry up, I want that ring.” + +A great suspicion now swept upon the missionary. He had not heard of +any murder, but if one had been committed, he surmised that the man +before him was the guilty one. He could not believe that Hugo would +commit such a deed. What should he do? Then he was suddenly aware +that he was looking straight into the threatening muzzle of a levelled +revolver. + +“Ah, I guess that’ll bring ye to yer senses,” Bill growled. “That +carries more weight than all yer pious prayers. That’s what will touch +the heart quicker than anything I know.” + +“Would you commit murder for the sake of a paltry ring?” the missionary +asked, unabashed by the danger which threatened him. + +“It’s up to you to stop it, then,” was the reply. “If ye don’t want me +to commit murder, jist give up that ring.” + +“But I have received it in trust. It is not mine to give.” + +“That doesn’t make any difference to me. You kin explain what happened, +and Hugo will understand.” + +“I won’t do such a thing,” the missionary sternly declared. “My life is +of little value as far as this world is concerned. But my honor means a +great deal. You will only get that ring over my dead body.” + +Under the strain and excitement of the situation the old man suddenly +lifted his hand to give emphasis to his words. Thinking that he meant +to knock aside the weapon, Bill’s hand quickly moved, and his finger +pulled the trigger. There was a sharp report, a groan, and a heavy thud +as the missionary dropped limp and helpless upon the floor, his head +striking the table as he fell. + +“Serves the old fool right,” Bill muttered, as he stepped around the +table and bent over the prostrate man. “That was the only way to stop +his d-- nonsense. Now fer the ring. I saw him put it in his pocket, an’ +most likely it’s there yit.” + + + + +CHAPTER 19 + +Anxious Waiting + + +The storm which overcame Sergeant North, and wound its mystic +winding-sheet over the land, enshrouded the little brush lean-to which +Constable Rolfe had erected for Marion Brisbane. It was merely a rough +makeshift affair, and yet it served its purpose. It was sheltered from +the fierce wind by the big trees, and through their great outstretched +branches the snow sifted gently down. A generous fire radiated its +warmth and cheer, and the leaping flames melted and dissolved the +falling flakes. Rolfe was kept busy much of the time searching for dry +wood, and piling it near to serve not only for the rest of the day but +during the long night. Having no axe, this was a difficult task, and +he was forced to break off dead branches to add to his supply. Marion +longed to be of some use, but the constable jokingly told her that a +woman’s place was at home looking after the affairs of the household. + +“Suppose we have a turkey for dinner to-morrow,” he said, as he was +about to start forth again on one of his wood-hunting trips. “Just +phone your order to Vancouver, and have a big fat bird sent up. Our +cook can prepare it to-night, and have it ready for the oven early in +the morning.” + +“I am afraid that our phone is out of order,” Marion laughingly +replied. “Suppose you call in on your way home and order the turkey.” + +In this manner the two marooned travellers passed the weary hours. As +night shut down upon them, they sang hymns and old familiar songs. +Rolfe recited poetry and read inspiring selections from his worn and +stained pocket manual. + +“What a pity it is,” he said, after he had finished several short +poems, “that the ones who wrote such verses cannot know of the great +help they are to us.” + +“Perhaps they do know,” Marion replied, “especially the ones we call +‘dead.’ I like to think that the departed have full knowledge of what +is taking place on earth. Perhaps even now the writers of those verses +are rejoicing because of the help they are to us. Anyway, isn’t it +great to feel that we never really die, but that our deeds live after +us.” + +“It certainly is,” Rolfe acknowledged. “Tennyson has well expressed it +in two lines when he says, + + “‘Our echoes roll from soul to soul, + And grow forever and forever.’ + +“Now, that is the idea. Tennyson was thinking of someone blowing a +bugle, and how the notes sounded far and wide. In a similar way his +words echo on and on, even to this desolate place.” + +“Why don’t you write poetry, Mr. Rolfe?” Marion asked. “I am sure you +could do it well. Why not try?” + +The constable’s face flushed, and he became much embarrassed. He rose +and placed several small sticks upon the fire. When this had been +accomplished, he turned to Marion. + +“I have tried my hand at it,” he confessed, “although so far I have +accomplished very little. But when I am through with the Force, I hope +to give expression to the thoughts which arise within me. There is so +much to write about that it will take years to tell all I want to. +The sergeant thinks that it is all nonsense and waste of time. But he +doesn’t seem to understand. He is so very practical and matter-of-fact.” + +The mention of the sergeant brought an anxious expression to Marion’s +face. He had seldom been out of her mind since she had bidden him +good-by, and watched him as he strode away. She knew what a difficult +journey lay ahead of him, and she feared that he could not accomplish +it on his miserable snow-shoes. Then when the storm swept down, her +fear increased. Rolfe, too, was alarmed, although he spoke hopefully. + +“The sergeant is a wonderful trailsman,” he said. “Even if his +snow-shoes should give out, he can plow his way through. His endurance +is remarkable. Why, I have known him to cross a mountain range in a +howling blizzard, and come through almost as fresh as when he started.” + +“But perhaps he will lose his way,” Marion suggested. + +“Not a bit of it. You can’t lose him. He can follow a trail by +instinct. Say, he is a great man. I have been with him on terrible +journeys, and I wouldn’t be living to-day but for him. He carried me +several miles once when I played out. Don’t worry about him, Miss +Brisbane. He’ll get through, all right.” + +Although these words cheered Marion to a certain degree, yet she could +not help feeling uneasy. As the storm increased, and the wind roared +overhead, and the trees swayed like great masts at sea, she thought +of the man she loved battling his way through the blinding snow and +the raging tempest. She also noted that as the evening wore on the +constable became unusually silent, at times, and his eyes expressed his +anxiety. She understood the meaning of this, and he could not deceive +her when occasionally he aroused himself and assumed an attitude of +cheerfulness and unconcern. + +Rolfe, in fact, was playing a difficult part. He knew better than +Marion the serious situation in which they were placed. If anything +happened to the sergeant, it would go hard with them. They might fight +their way through when the storm abated. But the chance was only one in +a thousand, for now there would not be the least vestige of the trail +left, so what could they do on their wretched snow-shoes? + +All through the long night Rolfe watched and kept the fire going. +Marion slept a little. She tried to keep awake, but weariness overcame +her. She would awake shivering with a fearful apprehension of impending +evil. She could not shake off this feeling, although she did not +mention it to her companion. The tired woe-begone expression upon the +constable’s face when he thought she was not noticing him smote her +heart. Then to see him smile so bravely when she spoke to him thrilled +her. She admired his courage, and the brave spirit he was maintaining +for her sake. It strengthened her, and made her determine that she +would show how a woman can suffer and be strong. + +All unconsciously Marion was exerting a strong influence upon the +constable’s impressionable and poetic nature. Her beauty appealed +to him. The noble part he was performing in their present critical +situation he considered as nothing out of the ordinary. It was merely +what was expected of him as a member of the Force. In Marion Brisbane +he had at last found the type of womanhood which had been for years but +an ideal. Her brightness, courage, and sweet charm of face and manner +inspired him. It was good to be near her in time of need. His life had +been a rough one, but a great inner longing, and the energizing power +of a lofty ideal, had kept him clean and straight. He knew very little +of the society of women, so it was but natural that he should be deeply +affected by this beautiful comrade of the trail. + +This feeling, however, Rolfe kept to himself. To him loyalty was as +vital as life. It flowed through every part of his being, and never +for an instant did he dream of betraying his sergeant’s trust in him. +So all the time he and Marion were together, neither by word or look +did he show that she was anything more to him than a friend for whose +welfare he was concerned. + +Marion, too, did considerable thinking. Since leaving Kynox she had +been mentally comparing her two companions. She liked Rolfe for his +jovial manner, and poetic notions. He helped to pass the weary hours, +and to enliven the trail. But to her he seemed more like a boy on whom +the responsibilities of life pressed but lightly. She would at times +glance from him to the sergeant and note the difference between the +two--one gay, talkative, and dependent; the other reserved, quiet, +and self-reliant. She never associated Tom Rolfe with great deeds +of daring, but with John North it was different. To her he was the +very embodiment of a true hero. His lithe, powerful body, his strong, +clean-cut features, and steady gray eyes appealed to her. It almost +frightened her at times to think that she had won the love of such a +man, and that she loved him. + +She thought of all this as she huddled there before the fire with the +tempest raging overhead. She pictured her lover out in the storm, +where, she did not know. And he was doing it for her sake, that she +might be saved. Upon himself he had taken the hardships and dangers of +the journey. That was always the way of a strong man. He had not asked +the constable to go, while he remained behind. Her heart thrilled at +the idea, and she longed to tell him how proud she was of him. + +Slowly the weary hours dragged by, and when at length the dawn of a +new day dispelled the blackness of night, the storm slackened. The +wind gradually died down, and the snow ceased to fall. The constable +replenished the pile of wood while Marion prepared their meagre +breakfast. How tired they both were of moose meat, and yet there was +nothing else to keep life within their bodies. + +“Meat! meat! meat!” Rolfe exclaimed, as he staggered in and threw down +an armful of dry sticks. “I shall write a poem about that some day, and +make the word rhyme with ‘beat’ and ‘feet.’ Why, I am inspired now, +listen to this: + + “Meat! meat! meat! + It keeps me on my feet + When I would go dead beat, + And so I eat, eat, eat.” + +Marion smiled as she handed the constable a piece of broiled steak. + +“Perhaps this will inspire you to make another masterpiece,” she +bantered. “I am very thankful to be able to contribute something to the +work of a genius. Poets must eat, I suppose.” + +“Right you are,” Rolfe replied. “They often wrote about eating. I +remember what Bobbie Burns said: + + “Some hae meat and canna eat, + And some wad eat that want it; + But we hae meat, and we can eat; + Sae let the Lord be thankit.” + +“Yes, we hae meat,” he commented, looking somewhat ruefully upon his +piece of burned steak, “but I wonder if Bobbie would say ‘Let the Lord +be thankit,’ if he had nothing but this?” + +“But you have an appetite,” Marion reminded. “Didn’t the poet say that +‘Some hae meat and canna eat’? You should be thankful for that. I am, +anyway, and I find this meat very good.” + +Both Marion and Rolfe were feeling more cheerful now. This little round +of levity did much to dispel the clouds of despair which overshadowed +them during the night. The passing of the storm also had its effect, +so they looked hopefully forward to a speedy relief from their trying +situation. But as the morning wore away and the afternoon was partly +sped, and the sergeant had not come, the feeling of deep concern again +oppressed them. They tried to be cheerful, and not to betray their +anxiety to each other. But their hearts were troubled, for they both +strongly felt that something had happened to the one who alone could +bring them the needed help. Rolfe had just replenished the fire for the +hundredth time during the day, and was on the point of going after more +wood for the night, when a cry of joy from Marion caused him to look +quickly around. At first he could hardly believe his eyes, for there +was Hugo, the trapper, coming toward them among the trees with great +strides. A toboggan trailed behind, containing a bundle, and a pair of +snow-shoes. His beard was thickly coated with frost, and he had the +appearance of Santa Claus on his mission of goodwill. + +After her cry of joy Marion was too much overcome to utter another word +until Hugo had thrown the rope from off his shoulders, and stepped +from his snow-shoes. She then sprang to his side, and impulsively +threw her arms around his huge body, much to Rolfe’s surprise. Tears +of thankfulness were streaming down her cheeks as she looked into her +father’s face. + +“Thank God, you have come!” she at length murmured. “But have you met +Sergeant North? Is he safe?” + +It was well for Marion’s peace of mind that she did not notice the +expression which leaped into Hugo’s eyes as she asked that question. +She wondered, though, why her father somewhat roughly unclasped her +arms and moved closer to the fire. She mistook his meaning, thinking +that he was the bearer of bad news which he was loath to impart. Her +face turned very white. + +“Has anything happened to him?” she asked in a voice that was almost a +whisper. “Surely he is not dead.” + +“No, he is not dead,” Hugo replied, without looking at her. “At least, +he wasn’t the last time I saw him. But he was in a bad way when I +stumbled across him in that storm. But never mind about him now. How +are you two making out? Plenty of grub, eh?” + +“Just what you see there,” Rolfe replied, pointing to the last of the +moose meat hanging from the limb of a tree. “We’ve had nothing but meat +diet for days.” + +“Well, you might be worse off, young man,” Hugo reminded, looking +keenly at the constable. “But I’ve something here which will be a +change. It’s all I could scrape together, but I guess it will last +until we get out of this. We must not stay long, for the sergeant, in +whom you are so much interested, is waiting our coming several miles +away.” + +This was good news to Marion and Rolfe. They asked several more +questions, but receiving no satisfactory reply, they desisted. Hugo had +brought some tea, and when this had been prepared in a small tin can +which he always carried with him, they were greatly refreshed. He had +also a supply of “sourdough” bread, and a tin of jam. To the ones who +had been living for days upon meat these proved great delicacies. + +“Why, this is regular hotel fare,” Rolfe remarked, as he helped himself +to a second large slice of bread. “We only need the napkins and a few +other accessories to make it the real thing.” + +Marion smiled, but Hugo seemed to take no notice of the young man’s +remarks. In fact, he had not heard him. His mind was upon more +important matters. He was tired, as well, for he had been on the +march through most of the storm, and long before dawn that day. He +did not tell of the terrible struggle he had made to reach his cabin +far beyond the valley, of his brief rest there while he packed up his +meagre supply of food, and his starting forth again before the storm +had spent its fury. It was not his way to tell of such things. He had +accomplished his purpose, and that gave him all the satisfaction he +needed. + +But he was greatly disappointed. He had done it all for Marion’s sake, +and upon his arrival at the camp in the forest her first question was +about the sergeant. She had come to him from that world which he never +expected to see again. She had brought a new inspiration into his life. +She had changed him until he hardly knew himself. And yet for all +that she was not his. She belonged to another, a member of the Force +from which he had been fleeing for years. And yet he knew it was his +own fault. He had left her and her mother to face the reproach of the +world, and like a coward had fled to the wilderness. But Marion had +followed him! She had found him! Surely there must be love in her heart +for her wayward father. + +All this swept through his mind during the short time he rested at +the camping-place. There were other things as well which caused him +considerable uneasiness, all of which, however, he wisely kept to +himself. + + + + +CHAPTER 20 + +United Forces + + +The sun of the short winter day was sinking below the distant mountain +peaks away to the west. It touched with its departing rays three forms +moving slowly across a vast desolate waste of snow. Hugo, the trapper, +and Tom Rolfe, the constable, were in harness, drawing the toboggan on +which Marion was seated. The men were on snow-shoes, with Hugo ahead, +with ropes across their shoulders. They were part way over the burnt +region where the sergeant had been overcome by the storm when the +sun went down. Ahead in the distance where the trees stood thick and +sombre, they planned to rest for the night. Here they hoped to find the +sergeant, and Marion’s heart beat fast at the thought of meeting him +again. + +It was dark by the time they reached the edge of the forest, and a few +rods among the trees they found the sergeant standing before a cheerful +fire. His face brightened with joy as he saw them, and in another +minute he had Marion clasped in his arms. Hugo and Rolfe pretended not +to notice the meeting of the lovers, but busied themselves about the +fire. + +Strange thoughts were beating through the trapper’s mind for all his +apparent unconcern. How he longed for Marion to greet him in such an +affectionate manner as she did the sergeant. He was her father, while +the other she had known but a short time. A sudden impulse swept upon +him to get off by himself, and forget forever that he had a daughter. +He would crush out every vestige of affection from his heart, and turn +his hand more strongly than ever against all mankind. He had been a +weak fool to be so easily deluded by mere sentiment. + +He straightened himself up with a jerk from his bending position. Yes, +he would go at once, pretending that he had business elsewhere. But +just then Sergeant North stepped toward him, and held out his hand. + +“I want to thank you for what you have done,” he began. “I can never +repay you. Let us henceforth be friends.” + +Taken completely aback by this unexpected move, Hugo hesitated. It +was only for a minute, however, and then he drew his body to its full +height and looked steadily into the eyes of the man standing before him. + +“How can we be friends?” he asked. “Am not I a suspected criminal? Have +you not been seeking me for years? But for a peculiar turn of events, +I would now be away in the fastness of the hills where you could never +find me. I am your prisoner now, so how can captor and captive be +friends?” + +“You are no captive of mine,” the sergeant calmly replied. “You may +leave this place whenever you wish, and no hand will be raised to +restrain you. I never yet arrested a man who did what you have done for +us.” + +“But how can you face your commanding officer when you meet him if you +let me go? In the eyes of the law I am a criminal. Have you forgotten +that?” + +“I never knew it to forget, Hugo. Explain what you mean.” + +“About that murder near the C. D. Cut-Off, of course. Am I not +suspected of that? Have you not been on my trail ever since you heard +of my visit to the Kynox hospital with the little child?” + +“You are right, but only to a certain extent. Your actions naturally +aroused our suspicions, especially after you fled that night from the +cabin when we had taken shelter from the storm. But I had no orders +from Headquarters to follow you. I merely took the matter into my own +hands while on patrol from the river to The Gap. I wished to overtake +you to find out from your own lips what you knew about that murder. But +now I would no more think of suspecting you than I would Marion. You +are too noble a man to do such a diabolical deed. Do you not believe +me?” + +“And you say that you never had orders to follow me and arrest me?” +Hugo asked in surprise. “Are you sure that the Force hasn’t been on +the watch for me for years? Haven’t I been looked upon as a criminal +escaped from justice?” + +Into the sergeant’s mind there came all at once something which partly +explained the reason of the strange actions of the man standing +before him. He had evidently been labouring for years under a great +misapprehension. He had been obsessed with the idea that the Police +were searching for him. It was quite apparent that the man had fled +from the ways of civilisation, but to imagine that he could escape +in the northland was ridiculous. Of all places on the earth the +Yukon territory was the worst region for any criminal to flee for +refuge. Here the two Divisions of the Mounted Police spread out their +marvellous net into the most remote recesses. No miscreant had ever yet +escaped, no matter to what part of the world he had fled. Had they +wanted Hugo, the trapper, they could have taken him years ago. They +knew of his wanderings, and his peculiarities. Although the man was a +mystery, they never interfered with his manner of living. To them he +was a harmless being, one of many dwelling in the country. + +“We never considered you as a criminal,” the sergeant replied. “We +never had any orders to arrest you.” + +“You didn’t!” Hugo exclaimed. “Why, then, did you demand me to +surrender when I found you wallowing about in the snow, overcome by the +storm?” + +“I wanted to hold you that you might give evidence in the murder case. +And, besides, I guess I must have been half crazy that day. I hardly +knew what a fool-thing I was doing.” + +“H’m, you are certainly right. But it was a mighty plucky thing to do, +as I told you then. Why, I could have knocked you on the head and no +one would have been the wiser. It would have been charged to the storm.” + +“Why didn’t you do it? It was your great opportunity.” + +“Because I am not a brute. And, further, for my daughter’s sake. Now +you understand.” + +“I do,” the sergeant replied. “And for her sake, if for nothing else, +let us be friends.” + +Once more he held out his hand, which Hugo immediately grasped. For a +few seconds they faced each other without a word. Their eyes met in +a steady look, and their hearts thrilled. Thus two strong men became +friends there in the heart of the great wilderness. The bond of union +was sealed which neither would lightly break. + +All this had been of intense interest to Marion. She listened to the +conversation, and studied the faces of the two men with fast-beating +heart. But when they at length clasped hands, she sprang forward and +threw her arms about her father. Her eyes were moist with tears, but +her face was radiant with joy. + +“Oh, I am so glad, so glad!” she murmured. “Now we can all be happy.” + +“Why, yes, so we can,” Hugo replied, his heart lighter than it had been +for years. “And something to eat will make us happier still.” + +“Supper all ready on the dining-car,” was the startling and unexpected +announcement from Rolfe, who had been busy preparing the meal. His face +was beaming with satisfaction as the three turned toward him. “Seats +for two right here,” he continued, motioning to a blanket spread out +upon some fir boughs. “Please walk this way.” + +“You are to be congratulated, Mr. Rolfe,” Marion smilingly told him. +“You have served a wonderful supper.” + +“It certainly is, Miss Brisbane. Fried moose steak, with things we call +‘potatoes,’ bread, hardtack, biscuits, jam, and tea. Say, this is a +banquet after what we’ve been eating.” + +“Poetry, eh, Tom?” the sergeant queried. “Those are the best words I’ve +heard you utter in a long time. That’s the kind of poetry which appeals +to me.” + +“Oh, that’s nothing to what I can do, sergeant. Just listen to this: + + “Give me, oh, give me, just as I am, + Potatoes and moose steak, hardtack and jam. + +“Doesn’t that strike you as a masterpiece? Let me sing it for you. I +am sure you will enjoy it. I can add more lines as I go along.” + +“Mercy! Mercy, Tom!” the sergeant exclaimed, taking his seat at +Marion’s side. “We’ve come through enough hardships of late. Do you +wish to inflict on us any more?” + +“I only wanted to cheer you all up,” Rolfe explained. “After your most +solemncoly and dramatic spiel, I thought a little diversion wouldn’t +come amiss. However, if you don’t appreciate my efforts, I shall keep +my great thoughts to myself. The course of true genius, like love, +never did run smooth. I guess it’s something like what Crabbe, the +poet, said: + + “‘Genius! thou gift of Heav’n! thou light divine! + Amid what dangers art thou doom’d to shine!’” + +While Rolfe was thus talking, Hugo was watching him most intently. His +gray eyes shone with humor, a striking contrast to the fire of fear and +rage which had so often gleamed in those same orbs. + +“Young man,” he began, “your words do me good. It’s been long years +since I have heard the light chatter of youth. Tragedy has been hanging +dark over my life. It has surrounded me on every trail, and entered +into my very soul. I have been a victim of gloom and despair. To me +the past was as a closed book, the present a period of misery, and the +future held out no hope. At times I had almost forgotten that I was +a man, and was in danger of becoming a mere brute. But a change has +taken place. The spirit of heaviness has been removed, and I see with +other eyes. Give me your hand, young man, and let us shake. I like your +buoyant spirit.” + +Rolfe was much surprised at this unexpected speech, and as he seized +the trapper’s outstretched hand in a firm grip, his bronzed face +flushed with pleasure. + +“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I am pleased to know that you appreciate +my poetic chatter, and that it has done something to dispel the clouds +of darkness from your soul. I hope the rest of our discerning company +will make a note of this. It is certainly great to have such peace +and harmony reigning in our midst. This has been a regular old-time +experience meeting. I shall now call on the sergeant to lead us in +singing the ‘Doxology.’ He has a wonderful voice, which once heard can +never be forgotten.” + +The truce agreed upon that night was a real one. It was a calm after +storm, peace after conflict. All were weary after the toil of the day +and for lack of sleep, and it was a great comfort to sit near the +bright fire and talk about the events of the last few days. Marion’s +face grew grave as Hugo told about finding the half-breed girl, lost, +demented, and how he had taken her to one of his cabins, and from there +to The Gap. He passed lightly over what that journey had meant to him, +and how for several miles he had been forced to carry the unconscious +girl in his arms. + +“Poor Zell!” Marion said. “She was so bright and animated when we left +Big Chance. She was longing to hurry back to be once more with her +wounded young lover. She must have become lost when she went after the +wood.” + +“The girl was not lost at first,” Hugo replied. “She was carried off +by that villain, Bill, the Slugger. I have proof, and when we come +face to face there will be another kind of experience meeting. The +mean, contemptible cur! Why, he even rewarded the hospitality of the +missionary at The Gap, that noble man of God, by stealing all of his +food, and lighting out some time in the night. It might be as well, +sergeant, to round up that brute and ask him a few questions about that +murder near the C. D. Cut-off.” + +“I am not surprised at what you tell me,” the sergeant replied. “Bill +is a bad man, and we need him. I was hoping to be first at The Gap to +head him off. The task will be much more difficult now, so we shall +need your help.” + +“And you shall have it,” Hugo emphatically declared. “I shall do +everything in my power to bring the guilty to justice.” + +For a long time that night the sergeant and Hugo talked after Marion +and the constable were asleep. The trapper told all he knew about +finding the Haines child in the lonely cabin, and the blood-stains +leading to the river. But of the finding of the diamond ring he said +nothing. He would explain about that when he received it from the +missionary, and handed it over to the sergeant. + +“I never expected to tell you all this,” he said in conclusion. “I +looked upon the Force as my deadly enemy, for reasons which you already +partly know. What led me to flee to this country I do not wish to +explain now. That can wait. But I see things in a new light, and I am +glad. I have been living long enough in hell, but have at last escaped. +There, now, I think we have talked enough. We need rest, for a hard +journey lies ahead of us to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER 21 + +Helping Hands + + +Indian Tom had made special preparations for his trip to the hills. He +kept his plans to himself, merely telling Kate that he hoped to bring +back a fat mountain sheep. Old though he was, it was nothing out of the +ordinary for him to go a short distance from The Gap and return with +fresh meat. Kate, with her keen intuition, surmised that her husband +had something more important in his mind, and that he intended going +farther than usual. She made no comment, however, for Tom was master +of his own affairs, and possessed of a strong will. Kate, like other +Indian women, had been trained from childhood to be silent and to wait. + +With everything in readiness, Tom planned to start early the next +morning. With his pack of food strapped across his shoulders, moccasins +on his feet, and rifle in hand, he slipped forth from his cabin and +made his way to the mission house. He wished to see the Gikhi, to tell +him that he would be away for several days, and to ask him to look +after the welfare of his wife and Zell. He knew that the missionary was +an early riser, and expected to find him seated at the table busy with +his writing. He had often visited the house early in the morning and +had always seen the light shining through the little window. + +As he drew near the mission house he was surprised to find it wrapped +in darkness. The Gikhi must have overslept himself, he thought, and at +first he hesitated about awaking him. But as his business was of urgent +importance, he tapped upon the door, and then pushed it gently open. +All was dark within and the room was cold. A fear that something was +wrong suddenly entered his mind. He took a few steps forward, and then +stopped to listen. But not a sound could he hear. + +“Gikhi!” he called. + +Receiving no reply, he felt certain that something had happened to +his beloved missionary. Laying aside his rifle, he brought forth from +a pocket of his jacket a small candle. This he lighted, and when the +flame was large enough, he looked carefully around. At first he could +see nothing, but as he advanced to examine the bedroom, his eyes +rested upon the form of the missionary lying upon the floor near the +table. With a gurgle of consternation, Tom stooped and looked upon the +prostrate man. He felt his face, and found that it was strangely cold. +Quickly placing the candle upon the table, he lifted the missionary +in his arms, carried him over and laid him down upon the cot on the +other side of the stove. Going back for the candle, he looked keenly +around. But nothing could he see to give him any clue to the cause of +the trouble. He then went over to the cot, and again felt the still, +cold face. He placed his ear close to the missionary’s mouth, but could +detect no sign of life. + +Forgotten now was his visit to the hills. His only thought was for +his beloved missionary. He needed help, and the only one who could be +of any assistance was his wife. Leaving the house, he hurried to his +own cabin, told Kate in a few words what he had found, and ordered +her to come at once. Zell was sleeping quietly, so following her +husband, Kate was soon at the mission house. She rushed at once to the +missionary’s side, and looking upon him lying there so still and white, +a great cry of grief broke from her lips. + +“Gikhi! Gikhi!” she called. + +But for the first time no response came to her earnest appeal. The man +who had led her out of darkness of heathenism was deaf to her voice. +Wildly she looked around, and then up into Tom’s face. + +“Is he dead?” she asked. “Has someone killed him?” + +“It looks like it,” Tom replied, placing the forefinger of his right +hand close to the side of the missionary’s head. “See! See! Blood! +Gikhi has been shot! Bad! Ugh!” + +Then a wild rage filled his heart. The spirit of revenge, inherited +from countless generations of warriors, possessed him. The Gikhi, the +man who meant so much to him, had been shot by an enemy! He surmised +who it was, for no one but Bill, the Slugger, was in the neighbourhood. +Swiftly he turned and spoke a few rapid words to his wife. He next set +to work and built a fire in the stove. In a short time the genial heat +was pervading the room. He then started to work upon the body of the +missionary, rubbing the cold form and applying hot cloths. + +Night passed, and morning dawned, but still Tom remained at his task. +Could he ever bring life into that still form? But at length he was +rewarded, for slowly a warmth returned to the body, and the beating of +the heart could be detected. Kate went back to her own cabin to see how +Zell was getting along, and returned ere long with a cup containing a +little Indian medicine, concocted the previous summer from various +roots and herbs. Between the missionary’s firm-set teeth some of +this was pressed, and in a short time the faithful natives had the +satisfaction of seeing the Gikhi give a sigh and open his eyes. He then +closed them again, and remained as motionless as before. + +All through the morning the Indians did what they could for the +missionary. They knew, however, that their efforts were but temporary, +and that the white doctor at Kynox was urgently needed. But who could +go for him? There was not an Indian runner anywhere near, and the +hospital was far away. + +Several times during the morning Kate went over to see how Zell was +getting along. The girl, who was now greatly improved, wondered at +the Indian woman’s excited manner, and why she was in such a hurry to +return to the mission house. She questioned her, but received only an +evasive answer. Zell had now reached the stage of recovery when she was +restless and impatient to be doing something. Although still weak from +the terrible experiences through which she had passed, she was anxious +to go back to Tim, and to take the Gikhi with her. How they would go, +she had no definite idea. But her faith in the missionary was so great +that she believed he could do the impossible. She had not spoken to him +as yet about her injured lover at Big Chance. She wanted to see him +alone, when Tom and Kate were not present. She was greatly worried, +too, about the white woman she had left by the camp-fire that night of +the terrible happenings. She had spoken of her to Tom and Kate, but +they knew nothing. Her mind was still confused and it was difficult for +her to think very clearly. But Tim and the white woman were ever before +her. They were in need, so she must go to them. The Gikhi alone was +the one who could help her. + +All through the morning Zell worried and wondered. She dragged her +weak body to the little window facing the mission house and watched +through a small clear space in the frost-bedecked panes. It was a +lonely vigil she kept, for Kate was a long time in coming. What could +be keeping her and Tom so long with the Gikhi? She looked westward and +the great towering mountains met her eyes. The Golden Horn, robed in +its snowy mantle, caught the bright beams of the winter sun, and smiled +its benediction over the stark and silent land. Far away in a little +crouching creek at its base was Big Chance, where lay the one she loved +most on earth. And she could not go to him. She did not know whether +he was dead or alive. Tears came to her eyes and flowed down her +cheeks. Her face was wan and pale, a striking contrast to her animated +countenance of a few days before. + +At last she felt that she could endure the suspense no more. Kate had +been away longer than usual, and she was sure that something was wrong +with Gikhi. Picking up a blanket and wrapping it about her head and +shoulders in Indian fashion, she left the cabin, and slowly made her +way along the path leading to the mission house. Several times she +tottered, so weak was she, but at length reaching the door, she leaned +against the building and listened. Hearing no sound from within, she +softly pushed open the door and entered. The sight which met her eyes +caused her to pause and her heart to beat fast. She saw the Gikhi lying +upon the cot, with Kate kneeling by his side, and Tom standing a few +feet away. With a cry which caused Kate to leap to her feet, the girl +rushed forward. She reached the cot, and exhausted by the exertion, +she dropped upon her knees and threw her arms over the still form lying +there. Not a word did she utter, but sobbed as if her heart would break. + +Kate and Tom looked upon the weeping girl with surprise, and spoke +low to each other. Then the woman laid her right hand upon the girl’s +shoulder and gently shook her. + +“You should not be here,” she reproved. “This is no place for you.” + +But Zell made no reply. If she heard what was said she gave no sign, +but with outstretched arms and bent head continued her sobbing. + +Kate spoke more sharply to her now, and tried to draw her away. This +aroused the girl, and she turned fiercely upon the woman. + +“Leave me alone,” she cried. “I have the right to be here. Gikhi was +good to me, and now he is dead!” + +Again she bowed her head and remained perfectly motionless, Kate and +Tom watching her, not knowing what to do. The girl puzzled them. They +knew that she had run away from the mission school, which had been a +great grief to the missionary and his wife. Now she had come back, and +avowed her love for the Gikhi. + +They were still standing there when a noise outside arrested their +attention. Then a knock sounded upon the door. As no one entered, Tom +crossed the room, opened the door and looked out. Standing before him +were four weary-looking people, three of whom he at once recognised. +But the white woman he did not know. + +“Is the missionary at home?” Sergeant North asked, surprised to see the +Indian. + +Tom, however, made no reply, but stared intently at the sergeant. + +“Is anything wrong with the missionary?” the sergeant asked. “Is he +sick?” + +“Ah, ah, Gikhi much seek,” Tom replied. “Gikhi all sam’ dead.” + +With a bound the sergeant was in the room, closely followed by his +companions. Hearing the strange voices, Zell lifted her head and looked +around. Seeing Marion, she staggered to her feet, and with a pathetic +cry of joy and surprise started to go to her. But the recent excitement +had been too much for her. She tottered and would have fallen had not +Hugo sprang forward and caught her in his arms. + +“What is the meaning of all this?” he asked, looking sternly at Kate. +“What has happened to the missionary?” + +“Bad white man shoot Gikhi,” the Indian woman explained. “Here,” +and she placed her hand to her head. “Put Zell in room,” she added, +pointing to the bedroom on the left. + +Hugo did as he was ordered, carried the unconscious girl into the +little room, and laid her gently upon the bed. Marion followed, and +bent over the girl. Then she went to the door and spoke to Kate. + +“Bring me some cold water,” she ordered. “Quick.” + +When this was brought, she bathed Zell’s face, and ere long had the +satisfaction of seeing the girl open her eyes. For an instant she +stared at Marion, and then the light of recognition dawned in her eyes, +and her lips parted in a smile. + +“Are you feeling better now?” Marion asked. + +“Yes, better. But how did you come here? Where have you been? I thought +you were lost.” + +“I am safe, Zell,” was the reply. “But never mind about that now. I +shall tell you later.” + +Marion was about to leave to go back into the other room, when Zell +caught her by the hand. + +“Save the Gikhi’s life,” she pleaded. “Don’t let him die. I want him to +speak to me again, to tell me that he forgives me.” + +“I shall do what I can for him,” Marion assured. “But if he has been +shot, he will need more aid than I can give.” + +“The doctor, you mean?” + +“Yes. I wish Dr. Rainsford could come. He might be able to find the +bullet and save the missionary’s life.” + +“Can’t some one go for him?” Zell asked. “Oh, if I were only strong, +I would go myself. Perhaps he is at Big Chance now. You said he would +come to see Tim, didn’t you, Miss?” + +“I left word at Kynox for him to come as soon as he arrived. But that +seems a long time ago now, and he may have made the trip and returned +to Kynox.” + +“But perhaps he has remained to look after Tim,” Zell eagerly +suggested. “Something tells me that he is at Big Chance now. Wouldn’t +he come like the wind if he knew the Gikhi needed him?” + +“I believe he would,” Marion agreed. “The doctor is a remarkable man, +and always willing to make any sacrifice in order to help others.” + +“But how can we get word to him? Who will make the long, hard journey?” + +“I will.” + +Marion gave a sudden start, and looked quickly round at these words. +Just behind her stood her father, bulking large in the doorway. + +“The girl is right,” he said. “I happened to overhear what she said. +The doctor may be at Big Chance. Anyway, if he isn’t there he will be +somewhere.” + +“And you will go--father!” Marion exclaimed in surprise. + +“If I don’t, who will? The missionary is too good a man to let die +without making an effort to save his life.” + +“But suppose you are overtaken by a storm, a snow-slide, a pack of +wolves, or some other terrible thing? That trail over which we came +lies right in the very shadow of death.” + +Hugo merely smiled at his daughter’s anxiety. How could he explain +that dangers meant nothing to him? The wilderness was his home, and +a journey which might appal others was as life to his being. He also +kept to himself another reason why he wished to go for the doctor. He +believed that the diamond ring which he had intrusted to the missionary +was the cause of the shooting. He had made a brief search for it, but +could not find it. There was but one explanation, according to his way +of thinking. Someone must have been watching through the window that +night he had given the ring to Charles Norris. Only one man in the +vicinity, he felt certain, would commit such a deed. Hugo, accordingly, +felt somewhat responsible for what had happened to the missionary, and +it was necessary for him to do all in his power to help him. + +Leaving the bedroom, Marion went to the side of the unconscious man. +She looked upon his pale face and long beard. How noble he seemed lying +there, like a warrior at rest, so she thought. He was breathing, but so +low that only with difficulty could it be detected. The sergeant was +standing near, while the constable was at the stove preparing something +for supper. Tom and Kate were nowhere to be seen. They had slipped out +of the room and had gone to their own cabin shortly after the arrival +of the white people. + +“What are we to do, Marion?” the sergeant asked. “This is a bad job, +and the man responsible for this deed must be brought to justice. But +in the meantime what are we going to do with this man?” + +“Suppose we move him from here,” Marion suggested. “Isn’t that his +bedroom over there?” and she looked toward a door on the left. “You men +can carry him in while I go and prepare the bed.” + +In a few minutes this was done. The missionary was laid gently upon +his own bed, and for a time he was left alone. A little later Rolfe +summoned them to supper, and while they were eating they discussed +their plans for the future. Marion agreed to remain with the missionary. + +“Zell will be with me,” she explained, “and I know that the Indian +woman who was here when we came will do what she can. I hope that you +all will be back soon without any mishap.” + +“I am sorry to leave you,” the sergeant replied, “but there is nothing +else to do. It is our duty, you see, and that must come first.” + +“Oh, I hope nothing will happen to you out there. The mountains beyond +here are very dangerous places, so I have heard. Will you follow right +after that wretched man?” + +“Yes, until we find him dead or alive. But I don’t believe he will be +very far away, owing to the injury to his foot. You remember what Hugo +told us.” + +“But he can shoot, though. He can hide and watch you coming, and can +shoot you both down.” + +“We shall have to take that risk, Marion. But I guess we are too old +hands to be caught napping, are we not, Tom?” + +“I guess you’re right, sergeant,” Rolfe replied. “Why, we’re going to +do wonders out there. Some day I shall write a poem about it which +will beat Tennyson’s ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ all to pieces. It +will tell about Sergeant North leading a lone constable into the jaws +of death with mountain to the right of them, with mountain to the left +of them, with mountain in front of them. Such a poem should make me +famous.” + +“That will be too much of a fuss about the pursuit of one man, and lame +at that,” the sergeant dryly replied. “Surely you can hit upon a more +heroic subject.” + +“Oh, I’ll make it heroic enough, sergeant, never fear. I shall bring in +about a lone woman left in fear and trembling, while two heroes marched +forth to avenge the wrong done to an old man. Never you mind, I shall +fix it up in great style.” + +Leaving the men to continue their talking, Marion arose and went into +the bedroom where the missionary was lying. He was just as she had +left him. Sitting down by his side, she watched him. A great respect +for this man stole into her heart. She had heard much about him, and +his wonderful devotion and self-sacrifice. Her heart thrilled at the +thought of what he had given up for a great Cause. And was this to +be the end of it all? No worldly applause, no honor, and an apparent +defeat of all his efforts. She spoke of it that night to the sergeant +as they sat talking while the rest slept. + +“Is such a life wasted?” she asked. “Will there be no result of all his +labors?” + +“His work can never die,” the sergeant quietly replied. “The Indians +have deserted him and his teaching for a time. But it cannot be for +long. Some day, I believe, they will see the error of their ways and +return to him again.” + +“But suppose he should die?” + +“Then another will reap the harvest. One sows and another reaps.” + + + + +CHAPTER 22 + +The Messenger + + +From early dawn Tom, the Indian, had been on the trail. Dusk was +settling over the land as he paused on the brow of a hill and looked +anxiously down into the valley below. His eyes were keenly alert, +his ears attentive to the least sound, and he sniffed the air for +the camp-fire scent. He was weary, and longed to rest. But he had +an important mission to fulfil, so he could not stop until that was +accomplished. He was old and unaccustomed to hard travelling. His +trips of late had been to the hills surrounding The Gap for mountain +sheep, grouse, and ptarmigan. Only a great incentive had induced +him to undertake this venture. He had his doubts as to how he would +be received by the Indians scattered over the hunting-grounds. They +had acted in a strange and rebellious mood of late, so the hope of +influencing them was not very encouraging. But the vision of a wronged +girl and the wounded Gikhi animated his soul, and inspired him with an +overmastering determination. If what had recently happened at The Gap +would not open the eyes of the Indians and give them a change of heart, +nothing else would. He felt that the time was opportune, and that he +must make the most of it. + +Leaving the brow of the hill he descended into the valley, and ere long +had the satisfaction of seeing a light among the trees not far ahead. +That Indians were encamped there was certain, and in a few minutes +he came in sight of a big log lean-to where a number of natives were +gathered around a cheerful fire. Several dogs heralded his approach, +while a number of men leaped to their feet and ordered the animals to +be still. In another minute Tom was in their midst, and accorded a +hearty welcome. All were glad to see him for his sake alone, if for +nothing else. They concealed their curiosity, for they were well aware +that only a matter of extreme importance would bring the old man so far +from his home in the dead of winter. + +About a dozen people, men, women, and children, were encamped here. +They were a hardy lot, well enured to the cold, and living the simple +life. This was their natural domain, and here they were free from the +vices of the frontier towns and mining camps. Could they have been +kept here, all would have been well with them. But the attractions +and temptations of lighted streets, gaily-bedecked stores, and warm +saloons, were hard to be resisted. Such things formed the principal +topic of conversation during the long winter evenings, and all looked +eagerly forward to spring when they could once more gratify their +desires. + +Tom knew of all this and how hard it would be for them to be drawn away +from such allurements. He felt that he might influence the older ones, +but had little hope of doing anything with the young men and women. +He did not at first explain the purpose of his coming, but after he +had eaten the food which was set before him, he sat near the fire and +talked about many things except that which was nearest his heart. He +heard also how the Indians were getting along with their season’s hunt, +as well as bits of gossip from other encampments. + +After a while, however, Tom laid aside the pipe he was smoking, and +took a little book from a pocket inside his buckskin jacket. This he +opened, and then looked around upon his companions. + +“You all know what this is,” he began. “It was given to us by the +Gikhi at The Gap. Some of you remember when the Gikhi first came to +live among us. His body was strong then, his eyes bright, and his hair +black. We opposed him, and the medicine men stirred us up against him. +Several times we tried to kill him, but the Great Spirit always saved +the Gikhi. He was good to us, and when a plague came upon us, he cared +for us, nursed us when we were sick, and saved many lives. When we +were hungry he always shared with us his food. But he did more than +that. He started a school for our little ones, taught them to read and +write, and how to do many useful things. Above all, he gave us the +Great Message which changed our lives, and lifted us from the level +of the brutes. Before he came, we treated our wives like slaves, and +worse than dogs. Now it is altogether different. Our wives are our +companions, and we use them right. Before the Gikhi came, baby girls +were badly treated. Mothers often let them die rather than permit them +to grow up to lead hard lives. Now our little ones are well cared for. +Before the Gikhi came, we were always waging war upon neighbouring +tribes. We thirsted for battle and slaughter. Now we are all living +in peace. And before the Gikhi came we allowed our old Indians to die +without any care. We would abandon them on the trails, and let them +perish. That is all changed now, and our old men and women are well +looked after. Before the Gikhi came we had no knowledge of Him who came +on earth and died that we might be saved. We know now. The Gikhi did +all that for us. He gave us this book, and taught us how to read it. +Here we find the Great Message of life and Eternal Hope, hope which we +never had before. Our little ones have been taught to sing hymns, and +you all remember what wonderful services we had in the church which the +Gikhi built. We were very happy then, and all looked forward to coming +back to The Gap to hear the Message from the Gikhi’s lips.” + +Tom paused, while a sad expression overspread his face. He noted how +intently all had listened to his words. He believed that he was making +some impression upon them. + +“A great change came,” he continued, “which broke up the Gikhi’s work. +Gold was discovered, and the white men flocked into our country, and +you know what they did. They brought in hootch which ruined our young +men and women, and many of the older ones, too. Our girls were led +astray, and the school broken up. The influence of the Gikhi was gone, +for the Indians nearly all left him. His wife died, I believe through +grief. She loved the Indians, and she was always a friend to them. The +Gikhi was left alone, but every night he rang the little bell and held +service in the church. He always prayed that the Indians would come +back, and he said that he wanted to be there when they came. But now I +am afraid it will be too late, and that the Indians will never see the +Gikhi again.” + +Again Tom paused, and for a few seconds he sat very still, his head +bent forward. That he was in deep grief, the Indians were well aware. + +“Has Tom bad news to give?” one of the natives asked. “Is the Gikhi +sick?” + +“Ah, ah, the Gikhi is more than sick,” Tom replied, as he lifted his +head. “An enemy came at night and shot the Gikhi.” + +At these words the men sprang to their feet and a babel of voices +ensued. Tom was plied with questions, so he told all he knew, and also +about what had happened to Zell. Deep, burning indignation filled the +hearts of all present, and they vowed vengeance upon the one who had +committed the dastardly deed. + +“Where is Bill now?” was asked. + +“Somewhere in the mountains,” Tom explained. “The Police are after him. +They will catch him before long, and take him back to The Gap.” + +“The Indians will help to catch Bill,” a stalwart hunter announced. +“They will track him down.” + +“Let the Police do that,” Tom replied. “The Indians must go back to The +Gap. They must show their love for the Gikhi. They must give up their +bad ways. They have wandered too far already, but it is not too late. +Will the Indians do that?” + +The critical moment had at last arrived, and Tom anxiously waited for a +reply. He knew how much these Indians had been stirred by what they had +just heard. But would it affect their actions? And while he waited, the +oldest hunter present lifted his hand for silence. + +“We have just received very sad and important news,” he began. “It +is a great grief to us to learn what has happened to the Gikhi. Our +hearts are all the more sad because we have left him and neglected +his teachings. I have been thinking much this winter while out in the +mountains. I have seen our young men and women wandering into strange +trails, and leading lives far worse than before the Gikhi came into +our midst. It is not good for them, and unless a change takes place +the Indians will all be ruined. I have been reading the little book +that Gikhi gave us, and on many nights when alone by my camp-fire I +have studied the Message of the Great White Chief who came to die for +us. If we follow His trail all will be well. The Gikhi has told us what +to do, and he himself has set us the example. He did not come among +us to cheat us in trade. He did not use hard words, but was always +gentle. He did not bring hootch among us, but he brought us the Living +Message to save our souls. He became as one of us, sharing our joys +and sorrows, and healing our bodies. And what have we done in return? +We have been false to him who did so much for us. We have followed the +trails of the enemy, and now one of their number has stricken down the +Gikhi. Let us call all the Indians together, go back to The Gap, and be +once more with the Gikhi. He may die, as Tom says, but let us be there +when he starts on the Long Trail, and it may be that he will see and +understand. Around our beloved Gikhi let us gather, old and young, and +promise to be true to the teaching of the Great White Chief in Heaven. +All who agree with what I have said let them now speak.” + +For a few minutes there was silence when the old Indian had finished. +At length one by one the hunters expressed their views, and all with +one consent agreed to return to The Gap, and renew their allegiance. It +was an impressive scene to behold those husky natives give voice to the +strong conviction which animated their souls. Tom’s eyes glowed with +pleasure, and when the men ceased speaking, he lifted up the book he +had been holding in his hand. + +“Let this be our guide,” he said. “What it contains will do us more +good than the words of the bad white men. I am now going to read a +Message from the Great White Chief.” + +Then in a clear voice he read in the rhythmical native tongue the story +which can never grow old, of the Good Shepherd seeking the sheep which +had gone astray in the wilderness until He found it. He read the words +with intense pathos, and when he had ended, he closed the book, and +lifting up his voice, he began the hymn of “Nearer My God to Thee,” of +which the Indians were very fond. + + “Ndo nyet nyakkwum Ttia + Ndo nyet nyakkwum, + Kwizyit nititae, + Guselshit chi. + Tthui sih chilig telya + Ndo nyet nyakkwum Ttia, + Ndo nyet nyakkwum.” + +The hymn ended, Tom dropped upon his knees, his companions doing +likewise, and offered up a few simple prayers, one of which was an +earnest appeal that the Gikhi might be spared, and that the Indians +might once more return to the right way. He concluded with the Lord’s +Prayer, in which all joined. As their voices rose as one, all of Tom’s +fears were removed. He believed that these Indians would remain true, +and that never again would they be induced to go astray. + + + + +CHAPTER 23 + +Rejected + + +Early the next morning Tom left the encampment and headed eastward. He +was greatly encouraged at the reception he had received from this first +group of Indians, and he hoped that all the others would be of the +same mind. He had some doubt, however, concerning a large band about +fifteen miles away. Numerous young people were there, who more than the +rest had become completely infatuated with the ways of Belial. They, +like a certain class in modern society of white folks, looked with +contempt upon the old-fashioned ways of their parents. They scoffed at +the Gikhi and his teaching as out of date, or suitable only for women +and children. Their chief delight was to visit the nearest town, array +themselves in the finest clothes they could buy, strut up and down the +streets, displaying their cheap and gaudy jewelry. Had they stopped at +that it would not have been so bad. But they did far worse, both young +men and women alike. + +Tom knew of all this, yet he hoped that out in the mountains, away from +such contaminating influences, they would more readily listen to his +message, and that their hearts would be touched by the condition of +their once beloved Gikhi. He believed that they had not wandered so far +but that they could be induced to return to the right way. Anyway, he +considered it his duty to speak to them. So much in earnest was this +old Indian, and advancing years had increased his intensity, that he +did not feel at peace while so many of his people were wandering from +the fold. So long as a little strength remained, he was determined to +do what he could. + +Twice during the day he met several Indians along the trail. To them +he gave his message, telling of the willingness of the ones he had met +the night before to go back to The Gap and renew their allegiance. +These listened with great interest, and all expressed themselves ready +to join in the return to the fold. They asked many questions about +the Gikhi, and Tom told them all he knew, and also about Zell and the +miserable white man who had injured her. + +Tom was thus more encouraged than ever. He was meeting with unexpected +success, and he sped on his way with renewed energy. As the afternoon +waned, and the sun went down, he became very weary. The excitement of +the day, and the toilsome journey, were telling upon him. Every hill +he faced seemed harder than the last, and his snow-shoes were becoming +very heavy. But still he struggled forward, knowing that the encampment +for which he was heading was not far away. There he would receive a +hearty welcome, and obtain the needed rest and food. + +At length the sound of voices fell upon his ears, and a light winged +its way among the trees. Tom stopped abruptly, for what he heard filled +him with apprehension. It was a confused babel of voices, telling +plainly of serious trouble. Stepping quickly forward, he soon came +in sight of the encampment, and in the shelter of the trees he stood +for a few minutes and watched all that was taking place. He knew the +meaning of the disorder only too well. Hootch was the cause, and he +saw two white men mingling with the crowd. Some of the Indians were +quarrelling, others were shouting and singing, while several were +lying in a helpless condition a short distance from the fire. Old and +young were giving themselves up to this wild carousal which was making +the night hideous. The white men alone seemed to be sober, and were +exulting in the debauch for which they were responsible. + +All this Tom noticed with disgust and burning indignation. At first +he was tempted to turn away and leave the miserable creatures alone. +But upon second thought he changed his mind. He needed refuge for the +night, and he might be able to quell the revel, and bring the Indians +to their senses. Surely the story he had to tell about the Gikhi would +affect them. + +As Tom stepped forward, beat off several snapping dogs, and made his +way into the midst of the Indians, he was greeted with shouts of +welcome. No one seemed to be surprised at the sight of the old man. Had +they been sober, their curiosity would have been great. They crowded +around him, offering him hootch, and when he refused to drink, they +laughed and called him an old fool. Freeing himself, he entered the +lodge and squatted down upon some blankets spread over fir boughs. He +wanted to rest and to consider what he should do. But even here he was +allowed no peace. Again and again he was urged to drink, and when each +time he refused, the Indians became more insistent, and some quite +angry. The white men, too, were determined in their efforts, and it was +all that Tom could do to keep calm. He contrasted this wild confusion +with the quiet and peaceful scene of the previous evening. What a +difference, and how little chance was there for him to deliver his +great message. He knew that these excited people would not listen, and +if they did, it would be only to ridicule him and the Gikhi. This was +no place for him, so he concluded. He would leave them, build a fire +some distance away, and there spend the night. Perhaps in the morning +he would get a hearing. + +Acting upon this impulse, he rose to his feet, and started to move +away. But the natives had other views. They pulled him back with shouts +of laughter. The embarrassment of the old man was affording them +considerable sport. They would not let him go until they were through +with him. But Tom’s fighting blood was now aroused. In his younger days +he had been a stern opponent, and although his body was weak through +age, his spirit was just as strong as ever. His anger flared up at the +sight of the two leering and amused white men. Why had his people been +so deluded? Why did they not drive those foreigners from their midst? + +With difficulty he struggled to his feet, and impatiently thrust away +the ones who were crowding around him. His eyes were now blazing +with indignation. He drew himself to his full height, and his stern, +commanding figure somewhat awed the excited men and women. They stepped +back, ceased their noise, and listened. In fiery language Tom told them +of the days of old, and of their happy condition at The Gap before the +coming of the demoralizing hootch. He turned his wrath upon the two +white men. He told them what one of their number had done to the Gikhi +and Zell, the half-breed girl. He thought that this would bring the +Indians to their senses, and his eyes noted keenly the expressions upon +the faces of those around him. In fact, he did detect signs of sympathy +in several eyes. But it was merely a passing emotion, for the liquor +had too strong a hold upon them. Owing to the silence, he believed +that he was really exerting some influence upon these people. But the +entire effect of his oration was counteracted by a sneering laugh from +one of the white men, followed by the words, “What is the old fool +trying to say?” At this the young men burst into uproars of laughter in +which most of the women joined. Tumult again broke forth, and when Tom +tried once more to speak, he was jeered at, told to go back home and +attend to his prayers. Stung to the quick by such taunts, Tom leaped +forward and faced the nearest white man. Thinking that the Indian was +going to attack him, the villain lifted his clenched fist and struck +him a savage blow on the face. + +“Take that, you d-- crazy fool and mind your own business,” he cried. + +Tom staggered back, stunned by the blow, tripped over a stick and fell +heavily to the ground. He struck the side of his forehead against a +stick, and in another minute blood was streaming down his right cheek. +Picking himself up with difficulty, he wiped away the blood and gazed +around in a dazed manner. Nothing but shouts of merriment greeted his +woeful appearance, and no one came to his assistance. He was in the +midst of his own people, but they had returned to the ways of the wild +where sympathy is unknown, and where on the slightest pretext they +would have rent him asunder. + +Knowing now that further efforts would be all in vain, and wishing +to be by himself, Tom moved slowly from the encampment. He was the +dignified Indian once more, walking as erect as possible, paying no +attention to the laughter and jibes which followed his departure. His +forehead was sore, but much more so was his heart. His bright hopes +had all vanished, and he was an outcast. His own people would not +listen to his message, preferring the ways of evil. + +When some distance from the encampment, and beyond the sound of the +revellers, he stopped, built a fire, spread a supply of fir boughs, +and passed the night alone. No sleep came to his eyes as he squatted +there thinking of all that had taken place. He knew how useless it +would be to go back to those Indians in the morning. They would be +either asleep, or more quarrelsome than ever owing to the effects of +the liquor. They would not listen to him, anyway, so he believed. But +he must have food, and the nearest place where this could be obtained +was the police patrol-house miles away. He would go there, rest, and +then make his way to the one more Indian encampment which he knew was +beyond. Perhaps the Indians there might be willing to listen to him. He +would try, anyway, even though they should reject his message. + +Long before daylight he was once more on his way. He had eaten the last +of his small supply of dried meat he had brought with him, and this +strengthened him for the journey. He hoped to reach the patrol-house +some time during the day, and there he would find rest and food. He +thought little, however, about himself. It was his own people that +worried him, and the condition of the Gikhi at The Gap. + +Hour after hour he plodded steadily onward, up hill and down, through +thick forests, across lakes, and long, sweeping wild meadows. He +had travelled miles by the time the dawn of a new day dispelled the +darkness of night, and the sun rose above the tops of the pointed +trees. He followed no trail, and he needed none, for the region was +familiar to him, and he was perfectly at home in the trackless wild. +He passed places where he had often camped in former days, and where he +had set his traps. The old longing for the chase came upon him, and his +eyes kindled when he came to a spot where he had killed a lordly moose +or battled with a fierce grizzly. But he was on a greater quest now, so +he could not afford to delay. + +As the morning drew on to midday, Tom’s steps began to lag. He was +growing weary, and ere long he was forced at times to stop to rest. +Lack of food and the excitement of the previous night were telling upon +him. He knew that he had only a few miles more to go, so by carefully +conserving his strength he should be able to reach the patrol-house. +His indomitable spirit stood him in good stead now, so bravely he +pressed forward. + +The last mile proved the hardest of all, and his progress was +exceptionally slow as he climbed another hill and paused on the summit. +Down in the valley below was the police trail with the patrol-house +nestling in the midst of a thicket of firs and jack-pines. Toward this +he slowly moved, and at length the squat log shack appeared in sight. +To his surprise he saw smoke issuing from the pipe stuck through the +roof, telling him that there was someone ahead of him, and occupying +the place. Perhaps the Police were there, and he hoped such was the +case, as they would be of great service to him now. + +Reaching at length the building, he kicked off his snow-shoes, pushed +open the door and entered. The room was warm, and for a few seconds it +seemed very dark. As he stood there, peering keenly around, a groan +arrested his attention. Then a muttering sound came from the corner +to the right of the stove. Tom stepped quickly forward, and with his +eyes now accustomed to the dimness of the room, he was enabled to see +a form huddled in a bunk, covered with a single blanket. Bending low, +he looked upon the man’s face, and as he did so, he gave a start of +surprise, and straightened himself quickly up. It was Bill, the Slugger! + + + + +CHAPTER 24 + +The Wages of Sin + + +For a few minutes Tom was at a loss as to what he should do. Two forces +contended strongly within him. One clamored for revenge, the other +for mercy. Here before him was an unscrupulous enemy, the man who had +injured the half-breed girl, who had shot the Gikhi, and who, he was +certain, had committed that terrible murder near the C. D. Cut-off. +The spirit of his savage ancestors swept upon him, and for a while +seemed to have the complete mastery. His eyes glowed, and his body +trembled with intense excitement. He looked around for some weapon +of destruction, and seeing a small axe lying on the floor, he sprang +toward it, clutched it fiercely with both hands, and turned again +toward the bunk. He had the axe raised, and in another instant it +would have fallen, when with a great cry, he suddenly desisted, and +flung the weapon with his full strength against the opposite side of +the room. He then turned, rushed from the building, and stood outside, +trembling in every limb. His brain was in a tumult, but he was slowly +regaining his senses. The horror of the terrible deed he had almost +committed possessed his soul. It was not a dread of the Law which +affected him; in fact, he never thought of that. It was a greater Law +which said “Thou shalt do no murder.” There came to him the teaching +of the missionary, and the words of the Master which he had so often +read in the little manual, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse +you, do good to them that hate you.” That was the Law he had almost +broken in deed, and that he had broken it in spirit was a great grief +to the old man. He was only an Indian, wrinkled, bent, and gray, an +object of scorn to many white men had they seen him standing there. +But the action of that native was worthy of the highest honour. He had +met temptation in its most terrible form, and had almost fallen. But +he had resisted, and won a remarkable victory. He had crushed back the +spirit of revenge which was still strong upon him, and had submitted +himself to the spirit of the Great Master. But still his grief was +great. In his agony he dropped upon his knees in the snow, and lifted +his hands above his head in an attitude of supplication. No sound did +he utter, but his moving lips were more eloquent than many words. For a +few minutes he remained in this position, silent and alone. The trees +around him were the only witnesses to the humble worshipper mutely +asking forgiveness from the Great Spirit of the universe. And to him it +seemed that his request was granted, for a peace stole into his heart, +and a weight was suddenly lifted from his mind. + +At length he rose to his feet, and looked around. His eyes, which a +short time ago had glowed with vengeance, now shone with the light of +joy. His weariness was forgotten, and even his hunger as he re-entered +the building to minister to the needs of the man lying upon the bunk. +As he approached, Bill lifted his head and raised his right hand. + +“What are you doing here, you devil?” he demanded. “Why don’t you kill +me an’ git through with it?” + +“Tom no keel Bill,” was the quiet reply. “Tom no all sam’ wolf now. Tom +Clistin.” + +A bitter, sneering laugh came from the man in the bunk. + +“You say you’re a Christian, eh?” he queried. “Well, ye acted jist like +one when ye started to brain me. Why didn’t ye finish the job?” + +“Gikhi an’ good book tell no keel. Tom velly mad, heart bad when he see +Bill. Something here,” and he placed his hand to his breast, “tell Tom +to keel white man. Tom almos’ do it. Den somet’ing here say ‘no keel.’ +Tom feel bad. Tom kneel in snow, pray, all sam’ Gikhi.” + +Instead of admiring the native’s candid confession of strength, and the +influence of Christian teaching, Bill uttered a savage oath, told the +Indian that religion was all bosh, and that the missionary at The Gap +was a fraud and a hypocrite. + +“The missionary is deceiving you,” he said. “There is no heaven an’ no +hell. Religion is only fer kids, women, an’ old fools like you. It is +not meant fer big strong men.” + +“Gikhi good man,” Tom defended. “Gikhi come to Gap when Injuns all bad, +fight, keel. Gikhi show Injuns right trail. Gikhi tell Injuns ’bout +Great Spirit.” + +“Yes, an’ what has all his teaching amounted to? Have not the Injuns +left him? They no longer listen to his teaching, but drink, gamble, an’ +strut around the streets when they go to town. The women an’ girls go +with white men, live with them, an’ have babies. Why, I know of dozens +of kids who will never know who their fathers are, an’ their mothers +don’t know, either. Bah! what good has religion done?” + +“’Ligion no do dat,” Tom again stoutly maintained, while his eyes +gleamed with indignation. “Bad white man mak’ Injun all sam’ crazee. +White man tote hootch, mak’ Injun drunk. Gikhi no do dat.” + +Tom paused, stepped closer to the bunk, and looked keenly into Bill’s +face. + +“Bill say ’ligion no good, eh?” he asked. + +“That’s what I said,” was the reply. A groan of pain suddenly burst +from his lips, followed by blood-curdling oaths. + +“Stop dat,” Tom sternly ordered. + +The injured man looked up in surprise, and was somewhat awed by the +Indian’s manner. + +“Why should I stop?” he asked. “I can swear an’ curse if I want to. +Religion means nothing to me. I’m not afraid of hell.” + +“Bill no ’fraid of hell, eh? Bill no like pain. Bill cry all sam’ +babee. Bill cry more bimeby, mebbe.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Tom leave Bill, mebbe. Tom go ’way. Bill no want Tom. Bill die, eh?” + +It was not difficult for the white man to understand the meaning of +these words. He believed that the Indian meant what he said, and the +thought of being left there alone was terrible. He recalled the past +night of suffering and despair when he had writhed in agony of body +and mind. The swelling in his foot was most menacing, and was steadily +creeping upwards until his whole leg from foot to hip was badly +inflamed. He felt that there was nothing that could relieve him, but he +did not want to be alone. It was some consolation to have some one with +him, even though it was only an Indian. + +“Don’t leave me,” he cried, reaching out his right hand as if to grasp +and hold the native. “Fer God’s sake, stay here an’ don’t let me die +alone!” + +Tom’s eyes brightened as he turned them intently upon the pleading man +before him. This was more than he had expected. + +“Tom no leave Bill,” he replied. “Tom Clistin. Wan tam Tom no Clistin, +leave Bill to die, keel heem, mebbe. Now, Tom all sam’ Gikhi, good to +Bill.” + +“Oh, shut up about yer religion,” the suffering man snapped. “I’m sick +of it. Git me something to eat. That’ll do me more good than all your +yangin’ about religion. Ye’ve gone daft over it.” + +“Ah, ah, Tom geeve Bill grub,” was the quiet reply. “But Tom ask Bill +wan t’ing, eh?” + +“Well, what is it? Out with it. I’m hungry.” + +“Bill no say bad word. Bill no talk ’bout ’ligion. Bill keep still.” + +This was more than Bill was inclined to do, so he gave expression to +his feeling in a string of oaths. Tom listened for only a few seconds, +when he suddenly turned, left the side of the bunk, and started for +the door. Seeing that he was about to leave, the injured man realised +his mistake, and yelled for him to come back. Tom hesitated before +complying with this request. He then slowly retraced his steps and once +again stood looking down upon the white man. + +“Bill call, eh?” he simply asked. + +“Yes, I did. Don’t go an’ I’ll hold my tongue, an’ say nuthin’ more +about religion. Hurry up an’ git me something to eat.” + +“Good, good,” the Indian grunted. “Tom git grub now.” + +Tom at once turned his attention to the stove. There was still some +fire in the battered sheet-iron heater, so he added a few dry sticks +lying near. He found that Bill had done some cooking, and examining +several cans near the stove he was pleased to learn that they contained +cooked rice and dried fruit, while part of a loaf of sourdough bread +was lying on a biscuit box close at hand. Tom warmed some of the rice, +cut a few slices of bread, which he spread with a liberal covering of +jam from a recently opened tin. These he carried to the white man, and +placed the plate upon the bunk. + +“Eat,” he said, “Grub good, eh?” + +“It’s nuthin’ but trash,” Bill growled as he took a little of the food. +“Lord! I wish I had a good swig of hootch. That would put new life into +me. But there’s not a drop anywhere in this hole.” + +“Too much hootch in Injun camp,” Tom replied. “Bad white man mak’ Injun +all sam’ crazee. Tom hurt, see?” and he placed his hand to his face. + +“Who did that?” Bill asked. + +“Jeree, white man. Plenty hootch. Jeree mad; hit Tom.” + +“Where was that?” + +“Injun camp, off dere,” and Tom motioned south. + +“Was there another white man with Jerry?” + +“Ah, ah, no savvey name. Beeg, bad face, all sam’ wolf.” + +“Where did they come from?” + +“Me no savvey.” + +This information excited Bill, and he became very impatient. Once he +scrambled out of the bunk, but so intense was the pain in his leg that +he groaned in agony. + +“I must git away from here,” he cried when Tom urged him to lie down +again and be still. “This is too dangerous a place fer me. Git me my +snow-shoes, an’ put me up some grub. There’s a hard trail ahead, an’ I +must be off.” + +In another minute, however, he was glad to be back again in the bunk. +He moaned, cursed, and lamented his hard luck. His eyes expressed a +nameless fear, and often he looked anxiously toward the door. + +“Did you see the Police?” he at length asked. “Are they near?” + +“Ah, ah; P’lice at Gap.” + +“They are!” Bill suddenly raised himself on his right shoulder. “Are +they coming this way? Do they know where I am? Does anybody know?” + +“Ah, ah, Tom savvey.” + +“I know ye do, ye fool. But does anybody else?” + +“Me no savvey. P’lice savvey much, eh?” + +“They do,” was the savage reply. “They are devils.” + +The short afternoon was rapidly wearing away as the wretched man tossed +and writhed in his hard bunk. He became consumed with a burning thirst, +and called continually for water. Tom was kept busy melting snow, and +then placing the water outside to cool. Cup after cup he carried to +the restless patient, who would seize it, drain it to the bottom, and +demand more. + +When night shut down, Bill became delirious, and it was only with +difficulty that the native could keep him in the bunk. He talked and +shouted almost incessantly, and Tom was shocked at many of the things +he said. If formerly he had any doubt about this man being the one +who had committed that terrible deed at the C. D. Cut-Off, it was now +entirely removed. The man lived it all over again, as well as other +deeds of infamy. Time and time again he would start up and look wildly +around, his eyes dilated with fear. + +“Keep back!” he would cry. “Let me go! Let me go! Don’t put me under +the ice! Bill Haines an’ his wife are there, an’ they’ll kill me, oh, +oh!” + +He talked, too, about Tim, and how he knew too much. He raved about +Zell, the half-breed girl, and how he wanted her. + +“I’ll git ye,” he shouted. “Tim won’t have ye. I’ll fix him.” + +He then gave utterance to expressions which further revealed the +baseness of his nature, and which Tom found hard to endure. + +Thus all through the long night the man tossed and raved. Tom was very +weary, and longed to sleep. But he did not dare to close his eyes. When +he was not forcing Bill back into the bunk, he squatted near the stove +and smoked his old blackened pipe. Although his body was tired, his +mind was very active. He wondered what he should do with the sick white +man. That it was his duty to stay by his side he was certain. But how +was he to get word to that outlying band of Indians? It was necessary +that they should be told of the condition of the Gikhi, that they might +have a chance to return with the other natives who had avowed their +loyalty. But he was helpless to do anything. + +At times Tom went to the door, opened it and looked out. It was a cold +night, and the Northern Lights were making a wonderful display. The +stars, too, were exceptionally thick and bright. There was no moon, but +with such lights in the heavens the night was not dark. All was still, +save for the occasional snap of a frost-rent tree, or the distant howl +of a lone wolf. + +Thus hour after hour Tom kept his weary watch, while the man in the +bunk tossed, fretted, and revealed his past life of shame. + + + + +CHAPTER 25 + +“Maintien le Droit” + + +It was evening, and Sergeant North and Constable Rolfe were travelling +fast. They had been on the way since early morning, and were anxious to +reach the next band of Indians, where they were planning to stay all +night. They were not following the regular police trail, but visiting +the various Indian camps instead, hoping in this manner to obtain some +word about Bill, the Slugger, and perhaps overtake him. They believed +that he could not travel far, judging from what they had heard about +the injury he had received. So far they had learned nothing, but +that did not discourage them. They had often followed after men and +overtaken them with far less to work upon. This undertaking appeared +easy in comparison with some they had experienced in the past. + +Sergeant North was anxious to get through with the job as soon as +possible that he might hurry back to Marion. It was hard for him to +leave her at The Gap with the unconscious missionary. He wanted to +remain with her. But his duty was out in the hills, so nothing must +interfere with his loyalty to the Force. He had a reasonable excuse for +delaying a day or two, at the least. Some men who had come through such +hardships would have rested before venturing forth again. As he swung +on his way, up hill and down, with the constable close at his heels, +Marion was almost constantly in his mind. He thought of her standing +at the door of the mission house bidding them good-by. How beautiful +she looked then, although her eyes were misty, and her voice trembled +as she tried to be brave and smile a cheery farewell. He had stooped +and kissed her right before the constable, and he did not know that the +latter’s heart was strangely stirred. He, too, longed for someone to +care for him as Marion did for the sergeant. He envied North his good +fortune, but it was envy robbed of all sting and malice. But away from +The Gap his buoyant spirit once more gained the mastery, and he was +apparently as light-hearted as ever. He joked, sang snatches of songs, +and quoted poetry to his heart’s content. North, if he heard, paid no +attention to his companion, so completely wrapped up was he in his own +affairs. + +The first night they encamped with the band of Indians who had given +Tom such a warm welcome. These natives had heard nothing about the +presence of any white man in the hills. They were enthusiastic over the +idea of returning to The Gap, and asked the police numerous questions +about the Gikhi. The visitors listened with much interest to the Indian +service that night, which was conducted by the oldest native present. +The constable’s face showed his approval, and his eyes sparkled with +animation. The sergeant, on the other hand, expressed no outward sign. +But he was doing considerable thinking, and his heart was stirred more +than usual. He made no comment then, but the next day while resting +and eating a cold lunch, he turned suddenly to his companion, who was +seated on a fallen log by his side. + +“Say, Tom,” he began, “I’ve been thinking much to-day about that Indian +service last night.” + +“Is that so? Going to put a stop to it, eh? You shouldn’t allow such +superstitious practices to be carried on. They might do harm to the +natives, you know.” + +“No, I’m going to do nothing of the kind, Tom. And besides, I have not +the power. And I don’t want to stop them. I have been greatly impressed +of late by what I have seen, and am beginning to look at certain things +in a different light.” + +“Experiencing a change of heart?” the constable asked, looking +quizzically at the sergeant. “Isn’t it coming to you rather late?” + +“Not too late, I hope,” was the quiet reply. “I am afraid that my +judgment of things pertaining to religion has been too much biased, and +a one-sided affair. I have been going upon the idea that religion is +all right in theory, but of little use in daily life. I see now that I +was wrong.” + +“What has led you to change your mind?” + +“Oh, several things. The first, and perhaps the most important, was +the thought of that old missionary giving up his life on behalf of the +Indians, and standing bravely at his post of duty when deserted by +nearly all of his flock. Why, Tom, that man is a great hero, and yet +the world knows nothing about him. I could hardly keep back the tears +at something I saw upon his rough table. Marion saw it, too, and she +was deeply affected.” + +“What was it, sergeant? It must have been something out of the ordinary +to move such a hardened being as you.” + +“It was the last bit of writing, I believe, that he did. His Bible was +lying open on the table, with a sheet of paper right near, on which +were some words in the Indian language. I did not know what they were, +but Zell could read them, and what do you suppose they were?” + +“I could never guess.” + +“They were words of the Great Master Himself, and they have fairly +burned themselves into my mind and soul. I had often heard them before, +but thought little about them. But to see them there in that strange +language, written with a trembling hand, and with an old rusted pen, +stirred something within me which I can never forget.” + +“What were they?” the constable asked, now deeply impressed by the +sergeant’s earnest tone. + +“Wonderful words about love which the Master was imparting to his +disciples. ‘This is my commandment that ye love one another, as I have +loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his +life for his friends.’ Now, what do you think of that? The last words +penned by that old saint for his wandering flock. And he lived them, +too; that is what affected me so deeply. His love was so great that he +actually laid down his life for the Indians.” + +The sergeant paused and looked off among the trees. The constable +watched him somewhat curiously, completely surprised at the change +which had come over his leader. He admired him, too, and longed to +tell him so. But before he could frame suitable words, the sergeant +continued: + +“And think of the influence that missionary exerted over the natives. +They were wild savages when he first came among them, so I have been +told. He changed their entire manner of living, and until base white +men began to demoralize them they lived at peace and we had not the +slightest trouble with them. It was a sad day when those wretched +hootch peddlers began their diabolical work. I believe the natives want +to follow the teaching of their missionary, and are anxious to return +to The Gap. They are naturally religious by nature. Did you notice last +night how reverent and attentive they were during that simple service?” + +“Indeed I did,” the constable emphatically declared. “I was thinking of +what Longfellow said in his ‘Hiawatha’ about Indians. Did you ever hear +it?” + +“Not that I know of. More poetry, I suppose.” + +“Yes, but great poetry, and it expresses fully what was in my mind. +Longfellow says: + + “‘That in even savage bosoms + There are longings, yearnings, strivings, + For the good they comprehend not, + That the feeble hands and helpless, + Groping blindly in the darkness, + Touch God’s right hand in that darkness, + And are lifted up and strengthened.’ + +“Now, isn’t that beautiful? I could quote you a great deal more from +‘Hiawatha,’ though I advise you to read it yourself when you get a +chance. I can’t understand why you have not read it already.” + +“For want of the proper poetic gift, I suppose, and because the +whole of my life has been lived in the open. But I like those words, +especially about feeble hands touching God’s hand in the darkness. I +guess that applies to me as well as to the Indians. But, there, we have +delayed here too long, so must get on our way.” + +This conversation took place at midday, and all through the afternoon +the two men sped rapidly forward. They had little to impede their +march, for they carried only light packs, and their revolvers. They +could turn aside whenever they wished and obtain extra food from the +patrol-house. + +When about a mile from the Indian encampment they were surprised at the +sight of a man just ahead, staggering along, and moaning as if in pain. +Coming closer they saw that he was a white man, known to them as Jerry, +a squaw-man, who lived in a small shack along the river. He stopped, +straightened somewhat up and exhibited much fear at the sight of the +policemen. + +“What’s the matter with you?” the sergeant asked. + +“The devils are after me!” was the gasping answer. “They’ll kill me! +For God’s sake, keep them back till I git out of this!” + +“Who are after you?” + +“The Injuns. They’ve gone crazy. Been wild all day. Me pardner is +killed, I guess.” + +“Who’s that?” + +“Bob Span,” the man replied, turning his head and looking fearfully +back. “They set upon us like wolves, an’ I jist managed to git away.” + +“What are you doing here, anyway?” the sergeant sternly asked. + +“Trappin’, of course. Happened to stay last night with them Injuns, an’ +was jist leavin’ when they set upon us. Don’t let ’em git me.” + +The sergeant shot a swift glance toward the constable, and then laid a +strong hand upon the frightened man. + +“You’ve been selling hootch to the Indians,” he charged. + +“No, no!” the man denied. “I was jist trappin’. Let me go.” + +“Quit your lying,” the sergeant ordered. “Do you think I’m fool enough +to believe what you say? You will go with us, and I warn you not to +make any trouble.” + +“Where are ye goin’ to take me?” the man asked. + +“Back from where you came, of course.” + +“No, no; not there! The Injuns will kill me like they did me pardner.” + +“Oh, we’ll attend to that. Come, we haven’t any time to lose.” + +Seeing that the sergeant meant business and that further words would +be useless, Jerry did as he was ordered. He was well worn out through +fear and lack of sleep, so he tottered as he groped his way along. At +last the policemen were forced to help him, each taking an arm, and +thus they moved slowly along. At times Jerry wailed and sobbed. He +vowed that the Indians would kill him as soon as they saw him. Once he +dropped upon the snow and refused to go a step farther. It was only +when North threatened to leave him there, and let the Indians come and +deal with him, that he could be induced to go on. He was well aware +that his only hope now lay with these hardy guardians he had so often +eluded. + +It was dark by the time the Indian encampment was reached, and there +all was excitement and wild talking. Men, women, and children sprang to +their feet as the policemen approached, dragging along their terrified +prisoner. The natives advanced threateningly toward Jerry, but a +stern warning from North caused them to hesitate and draw back. They +recognised the sergeant and the constable as men who would stand no +nonsense. They knew of them not only by report but through personal +experience in the towns and on the trails. They had always held them +in high regard and special awe, knowing that they and all the men of +the Force would carry out their duties to the letter. Now, however, it +was different. The natives were mad and half-crazed with bad hootch, +and they were ready to cast discretion to the winds. What could two +lone men do against an overwhelming number? This was the thought that +ran through the minds of several daring young natives. They had easily +disposed of the two hootch peddlers, and this made them venturesome and +impudent. They wished to show the rest of the Indians that they were +not afraid of the policemen. + +Acting upon the impulse of the moment, one of their number uttered a +few words in the native tongue, sprang forward, and laid hold upon +the cringing Jerry. He was followed by several of his companions, and +Jerry was being lifted off his feet when the sergeant took a hand. +Whipping out his revolver, he sternly ordered the Indians to drop their +burden. As they paid no heed, the next instant the revolver spoke, and +the right arm of the leader dropped to his side. With a yell of pain +and rage the man staggered back, leaving his companions to complete +the task. But they had no relish now for the undertaking, for the +sergeant was standing silently there with his finger slightly pressing +the trigger, and by his side was the constable, with drawn revolver, +ready to follow his leader’s example. Quickly the natives deposited the +terrified Jerry upon the ground and leaped back among the rest of the +Indians who were standing defiantly near. + +Seeing that for a time the rebels were quelled, the sergeant thrust +back his revolver into its holster, stepped forward, and drew back +Jerry to his side. His eyes then roamed deliberately over the silent +band before him. He was well aware that he had to use extreme caution +now, as the least mistake on his part might prove fatal. But his +experience with the Indians covered a number of years, so he was no +novice in dealing with them. Had he hesitated at the outset, and shown +the least sign of fear, the entire band would have been upon him and +the constable like howling wolves. + +“Let us be friends,” he at length began. “We come here to help you and +not to fight. These men who carry hootch harm you. We want to do you +good, and save you from them. You could easily kill me and my companion +here. But it would be very bad for you. Other men would take our place, +and, if necessary, they would be followed by others as many as the +trees of the forest. You could not fight them. But we do not want to +fight. Let us talk this matter over, and be at peace with one another.” + +Having finished, the sergeant moved forward, and sat down calmly near +the fire. The constable followed his example, and there the two waited +to see what would happen next. Although the Indians did not understand +all the words that were said, they grasped their meaning, and at once +began to talk to one another in the most animated manner. At length +they drew back, ranged themselves in a circle around the fire, some +standing, while others squatted upon the snow. + +At last the leader arose and asked the sergeant why there were two +laws in the country, one for the Indians and another for the white +people. Why were not the Indians allowed the same liberty as their +white brothers? The land belonged to the Indians, as it had been handed +down to them from their fathers. Why could they not drink hootch if +they wanted to do so? They did not think that the white man’s laws were +fair. The strangers had come into their country, were killing their +game, and driving the natives farther and farther back into the hills. +Soon there would be no place left for them. + +The sergeant was well aware of these old complaints, so he was not +surprised to hear them again. He was wise enough not to attempt to +answer them directly, as it would only involve him in a lengthy +argument, for which he was not at all inclined. He merely told the +Indians that what their leader said was only too true. But the Police +were in the country to protect them from bad white men, and to save +their young men and women. If they obeyed the laws it would be for +their good, and no harm would come to them. He then drew a picture of +their happy condition at The Gap when the missionary was their teacher, +guide, and friend. + +“Were you not happier then?” he asked. “Were you not all like one big +family? But what has happened? Your teacher has been shot by a bad +white man, and he may be dead now. He gave up his life for the Indians, +and his every thought was for you. He was always praying that you might +come back to him again. Let us now forget all strife and think only of +him who is lying wounded in his house at The Gap. Suppose we have a +little service here, and pray to the Lord to spare the missionary. That +will do more good than quarrelling.” + +This suggestion was carefully considered by the natives. Although he +did not know what was being said, yet the sergeant could tell that +several of the young men opposed the idea. But the will of the majority +prevailed, and it was not long ere many of the natives were holding in +their hands copies of the little manual which they had unearthed from +most unlikely places. + +“The white man’s words are good,” the leader said, turning toward the +sergeant. “The Indians will pray for the Gikhi. Mebbe the Lord will not +let the Gikhi die.” + +Then at a word the natives all dropped upon their knees while the +leader began to pray in the native tongue. At times all joined in, and +from their earnest tones it was quite evident that they meant what they +said. + +Rising at length from their knees, they began to sing an old familiar +hymn. This ended, they sang another, and still another. Their +enthusiasm was now intense. It had been months since they had held such +a service, and their hearts were all deeply stirred. When at last they +paused to rest, some were anxious to start right away that very night +for The Gap, but others advised waiting until morning before beginning +the journey. + +While they were discussing this, the other hootch peddler sneaked into +their midst and stood before the fire. He was shivering with cold and +his face was scarred and bleeding. The Indians made no attempt to +molest the miserable creature, but left him to the sergeant. + +“Where have you been?” the latter asked. + +“Out in the woods, freezin’,” was the gasping reply. “I would have died +if you hadn’t come along. Say, these Indians are devils.” + +“Who made them devils?” the sergeant sternly asked. “You did,” he +continued, receiving no reply. “You and your partner brought in your +hootch-poison, and it’s a wonder they didn’t kill you.” + +“They tried to. Oh, Lord! I thought it was all up with me.” + +“It’s too bad it wasn’t for the sake of others. But the Indians won’t +harm you now, and you have that noble missionary at The Gap to thank +for it.” + +“Why, where does he come in on this?” the man asked in surprise. “I +thought it was yer guns, an’ the hell-fear the Police have put into the +hearts of the Injuns.” + +“Oh, that had something to do with it, I suppose. But unless these +Indians had been taught the difference between right and wrong, what +could two of us have done with this bunch? No, it was mainly due to the +teaching they received, and don’t you forget that. We’ve been on your +trail for some time, and would have caught you sooner or later. We’ve +got you now, and intend to hold on to you.” + +With peace thus restored, the sergeant and the constable were able to +rest. The Indians supplied them liberally with food, and gave them a +comfortable place to sleep. They were tired out after their strenuous +exertions, but thankful for what had happened. As the sergeant lay upon +the robes spread over a wealth of fir boughs, he thought of Marion and +wondered how she was making out. He went to sleep with her in his mind +and heart, and did not hear the constable repeating one of his favorite +verses: + + “‘God bless the man who first invented sleep, + So Sancho Panza said and so say I. + And bless him, also, that he didn’t keep + His great discovery to himself, nor try + To make it, as the lucky fellow might-- + A close monopoly by patent right.’” + + + + +CHAPTER 26 + +The Night Struggle + + +The Golden Horn was agleam with the rising sun as the two policemen +left the Indian encampment the next morning and headed for the +patrol-house. They were late in starting, owing to the arrangements +they had to make in connection with the two hootch peddlers. At first +it seemed as if the constable would have to conduct them to The Gap, +leaving the sergeant to obtain a native to go with him. The matter was +at length settled by several Indians agreeing to take the prisoners +all the way to Kynox. The sergeant told them that they would be well +rewarded if they delivered the two men to the police stationed at that +post. + +So once more the upholders of the law and the guardians of life sped +along through the wilderness. For a while there was nothing to guide +them. Then they came upon Tom’s trail, and this they followed. They had +heard about the old Indian’s visit to the encampment, and the harsh +reception which had been meted out to him. They surmised that he had +made his way to the patrol-house for shelter and food. + +“Say, sergeant,” Rolfe remarked, as they paused to rest on the summit +of a hill they had just climbed, “I wonder if the Wandering Jew had any +children.” + +“I never heard that he did,” was the reply. “Why do you ask?” + +“Because I have come to the conclusion that he did, and that we are +two of his descendants. We are ever wandering from place to place, and +have been doing so for years. It seems to be our fate. I am getting +more than tired of this life.” + +“Longing for a change, eh?” + +“It wouldn’t come amiss, let me tell you that.” + +“But we’re getting plenty of change, Tom. Ever since we left Kynox +haven’t we had no end of excitement, ending up with that racket last +night?” + +“Do you call that the end? It looks to me like only the beginning. But, +then, let us keep up courage; the worst is yet to come. Say, sergeant, +I’ve been thinking.” + +“I’m glad to hear it, Tom. Rather unusual, isn’t it?” + +“Perhaps so, but I really have. I’ve been thinking about all the people +who sing the national anthem in cities and towns.” + +“Does your brain hurt from such deep thinking?” + +“I wonder if they realize what our motto, ‘Maintien le Droit,’ really +means? Look at us, for instance, upholding the right, and enforcing the +King’s laws, while all they do is sing, cheer, and wave the flag. When +I get out of the Force, I’m going to write something that will open +their eyes.” + +“Poetry, I suppose. Will people read it?” + +“They will have to. I shall write such blazing stuff that everyone will +want to read it. It will not be the trash that is so often seen in +print.” + +“I wish you good luck, old man,” North replied, as he lifted his small +pack and slung it once again over his shoulders. “But I wouldn’t be too +hopeful. People, as a rule, don’t take kindly to poetry.” + +“But they will take to mine. I shall write such stuff that they won’t +be able to help themselves. Now, some poets have written about +this country who have never been on its trails. I shall write from +experience, and surely people will see the difference.” + +“Let us hope so, Tom,” the sergeant replied. “But come, let us get on +our way. We have lost too much time already. If you can find any poetry +in all this, you are heartily welcome to it.” + +Hour after hour they moved onward, and the sun had disappeared behind +the far-off mountain peaks as they came at last to the patrol-house. +Smoke was pouring forth from the pipe stuck up through the roof. +This did not surprise them, for they surmised that Tom, the Indian, +was making himself at home within. Kicking off their snow-shoes, the +sergeant thrust open the door and led the way into the building. He +stopped suddenly, however, at a strange and uncanny sound which came +from the opposite corner of the room. He could not see clearly, owing +to the dimness of the place, but words he heard quickened the blood in +his veins, and caused him to grip hard the constable’s arm. + +“Keep back! Keep back!” wailed the terrified voice. “What are ye doin’ +here, Bill Haines? How did ye git out of the river? I put you an’ yer +wife under the ice, an’ how did ye git out? Oh! oh! oh! keep yer wet +hands off my throat. Yer chokin’ me! Fer God’s sake, let me go!” + +As the wretched, haunted creature paused an instant for breath, the +sergeant stepped quickly forward. Indian Tom was standing by the bunk, +and he turned around as the sergeant approached. He expressed no +surprise at the arrival of the policeman, although it was evident he +was greatly relieved. + +“Bill velly seek,” he simply said. “Bill talk all sam’ crazee. Bill +tell much.” + +“He certainly does,” the sergeant replied, as he again listened to the +wild words of the man before him, pleading again with Bill Haines to +keep back and not to choke him. He was certain now that the murderer he +was seeking had been found, and that the search was ended. + +“How long has Bill been talking like this?” he asked. + +“Long tam, all day, mebbe. Bill velly seek. Bill die bimeby, eh?” + +“Most likely,” was the reply. “Anyway, he’s worse than dead now. Isn’t +it terrible to listen to him?” and he turned to the constable. + +“Say, sergeant, he’s getting his hell now,” Rolfe replied. “It’s the +mind that makes the torment. It was Satan in ‘Paradise Lost’ which +said, ‘The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a hell of +heaven.’ And who can doubt it after listening to the ravings of such a +creature as that? Why, he’s living over again all the devilish things +he has ever done. There he goes again about the murder of Bill Haines +and his wife. Did you hear him speak about a ring? Look, he’s groping +for something. What do you suppose it can be?” + +“Perhaps he’s stolen one,” the sergeant suggested. “But, stay; do you +suppose a ring was the cause of that murder? If so, he may have it +somewhere about him. Give me a light, and let me examine him.” + +In another minute a candle was lighted which enabled them to see +much better. The pockets of the raving man were searched, and from +one the sergeant at length brought forth the ring, and held it up +for inspection. The diamond gleamed beneath the rays of light and +fascinated the eyes of the beholders. + +“Isn’t it a beauty!” the constable exclaimed. “What in the world was +Bill doing with a thing like that? It may be, as you suggest, the cause +of the murder. Did, you ever hear of the Haines having such a valuable +thing?” + +“I never did. They always seemed too poor to possess anything like +that. But, then, one can never tell. Bill Haines and his wife were very +reserved people, and although friendly and hospitable to all, they kept +their own affairs to themselves. Mrs. Haines was a refined woman, and +it often struck me as strange that she should be willing to live year +after year in such a lonely place along the river. However, we shall +keep this ring; it may be the means of unravelling some mystery. The +question now for us is what to do with this crazy creature. But first +of all, get something to eat, as I am almost starved.” + +While the constable was preparing supper, North sat by the side of +the bunk, watching the unhappy man lying there, and listening to his +incessant ravings. It was a sordid tale, unconsciously unfolded, and +the sergeant was enabled to piece together much of his unenviable +record. Tom, the Indian, squatted on the floor nearby, silent and +alert. At times the sergeant glanced toward him and wondered what was +passing through his mind. When the humble meal had been eaten, the +Indian filled, lighted his old blackened pipe, and smoked for a while +in silence. At last he rose to his feet and stood before the sergeant. + +“Me go now,” he simply announced. “P’lice stay, eh?” + +“Go where?” North asked in surprise. “Surely you are not going away +to-night!” + +“Ah, ah. Tom go find Injun. Fetch Injun back to Gap. Savvey?” + +“What for?” + +“Gikhi velly seek; die mebbe. Tom fetch Injun.” + +“But why not wait until morning? Sleep first.” + +“Tom sleep bimeby. Ketch Injun first.” + +“How far away are the Indians?” the sergeant asked. + +“At Big Lake.” + +“That’s about ten miles, isn’t it?” + +“Ah, ah, ten mile, mebbe.” + +For a few minutes the sergeant remained in thought. He then turned to +the constable, who was cleaning up after supper. + +“Say, Tom,” he began, “we’ve got to get this crazy man back to The Gap, +and from there to Kynox. We can’t do it without a team of dogs. Those +Indians at Big Lake must supply us with an outfit. One of us should go +with this Indian and pick up a good team. Would you rather go or stay +here with Bill?” + +“Go with the Indian, of course,” was the emphatic reply. “I’d soon be +crazy, too, if I had to stay here alone with that raving villain.” + +“But you might obtain great material for poetry,” the sergeant +bantered. “What brilliant ideas might come to you sitting here and +listening to Bill.” + +“I’d rather be excused this time, sergeant. Dante wrote wonderful +things about his imaginary visit to Hell, but I don’t think that I +could. This is too real to inspire the poetic muse. No, I prefer the +trail every time.” + +“Even though you have to start right off now?” + +“I would rather wait until morning, there is no doubt about that. But +if Old Tom is determined to go now, I suppose it can’t be helped. And +besides, perhaps he is right. There is no time to lose. We must get +that creature out of this as soon as possible. And you want to get +back to The Gap as soon as you can, don’t you?” + +The sergeant made no reply. He was more than anxious to be with Marion +once more. He had worried a great deal about her, and wondered how she +was making out with the missionary. She was very much in his mind as he +sat near the bunk after the Indian and the constable had left. He had +plenty of time to think, as there was nothing else he could do. Marion +always brought before him a vision of purity and nobleness. He pictured +a time when his wanderings on the cruel trails would be ended, and he +would have a snug little home of his own, with Marion as the beautiful +presiding genius. What happiness that would be. No more wanderings to +and fro, with no certain abiding place. + +It was but natural that he should also think of the self-sacrificing +life of Charles Norris, the missionary at The Gap, and the sad fate +which had fallen upon him. He mused upon his noble life, and the +peaceful expression upon his face as he had last seen him lying so +still in the mission house. He compared him with the wretched being +before him, and the contrast was most startling. One had lived for +loving service; the other for self. The aim of one had been to build +up, and improve; that of the other to tear down, and to destroy. In the +end both had been terribly stricken down. That the good should suffer +as well as the bad the sergeant knew was one of the great problems +of life. And yet not for an instant could he imagine the missionary +at The Gap undergoing such tortures of the condemned as he beheld in +Bill, the Slugger. In the latter he saw the brute nature, revealed +and uncontrolled, pouring forth the vile pollutions of the mind. He +realised now, as he had never done before, the gracious and refining +influence of the life and teaching of the Great Master. He had scoffed +at such things in the past, but face to face with such stern realities, +he knew that he could never do so again. + +Thus hour after hour he kept watch, tended the fire, and listened to +the sounds of the man in the bunk, which were now nothing more than +senseless jabberings. Occasionally he went to the door and looked out. +The night was cold, and he thought of the constable and the Indian +speeding through the forest. He was thankful to have a warm abode, even +though his sole companion was a demented man. + +Once more he took up his position near the bunk, filled and lighted +his pipe, and leaned back against the wall. When he had finished his +smoke, he laid aside his pipe and looked at Bill. He was quiet now, and +to all appearance asleep. North was glad of this, for he was becoming +very drowsy. The room was warm and as he once more resumed his seat, he +leaned his head against one of the bunk posts which was fastened to the +wall. He was tired, and although he intended to keep awake, yet in a +few minutes he was asleep. + +He awoke with a start, overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. And none +too soon, for before him was the lunatic creeping toward him with a +stick of firewood raised ready to strike. + +North sprang to his feet as the madman leaped forward and with a wild +cry struck. Warding the blow with his right hand, the sergeant grappled +with the raging demon. Then ensued a struggle such as North had never +before experienced. The lunatic seemed to be possessed of superhuman +strength, and several times he was on the point of gaining the mastery. +To and fro the contestants swayed and reeled. The madman’s arms were +like coils of steel as he wound them about his adversary’s body. His +eyes glowed like red-hot coals. His teeth ground together in his +insensate rage, and blood-curdling yells poured from his frothing lips. +North had at times heard of the terrible strength of crazy men and +their marvellous endurance. But he knew it now only too well. Possessed +of great strength himself, and with finely developed muscles, he was +weak compared with his raging brute antagonist. He felt his strength +weakening in the terrible grip, and a sickening feeling of helplessness +swept upon him. The thought of being overpowered by such a demon was +maddening. He could not subdue him by mere physical force, that was +quite evident, so in extremity desperate means must be used. At the +first opportunity he drew back his right arm and struck his opponent +a smashing blow on the left jaw. The effect was instantaneous. The +encircling arms relaxed, the gripping fingers loosened their strangling +hold, the tense body sagged, and then dropped in a heap upon the floor. + +North staggered back weak and faint after the fray, and leaned for a +few seconds against the wall. He was well aware, however, that the +madman might speedily recover and rush again to the attack. Such a +thing must be prevented. He looked around for a rope or strap, but +seeing nothing, he seized one of the grey blankets upon the bunk and +quickly tore off a long narrow strip. Turning over the prostrate man, +he securely fastened his hands behind his back. With another strip he +also tied his feet together. This done, he threw over him a couple of +blankets, and left him upon the floor. + +“Lie there, you brute,” he said. “It’s too good a place for you. I’m +not going to bother with you any more. You don’t deserve the least +consideration. You brought all this trouble upon yourself. I wish that +some of your choice companions could see you now. It might be a lesson +to them.” + +Slowly the long night wore away. North was very tired, but he did not +dare to sleep. He kept the fire going and waited impatiently for the +coming of dawn. The madman at length recovered, struggled to free +himself, and yelled and raved. North left him alone, knowing that he +could do nothing for him. His one desire now was to get him back to The +Gap as soon as possible, and from there to Kynox. His responsibility +then would be ended. + + + + +CHAPTER 27 + +An Unfolded Record + + +Marion Brisbane was kept very busy for some time after the sergeant and +the constable had left. The mission house was in sad need of attention. +With the aid of the Indian woman she set to work upon the main room, +swept, dusted, and scrubbed the floor. This took all day, and at night +she was very tired. But the place looked the better for the cleaning, +and she viewed it with considerable satisfaction. + +“That is the first thorough cleaning it has had for some time, it seems +to me,” she declared. + +“It used to be clean,” Zell replied. “When Mrs. Norris was living she +was very particular. I often helped her, and so did the other girls. We +always liked to do it for her, as she was so good and kind.” + +“She must have been a noble woman, Zell. I suppose you miss her.” + +The girl rose from her seat and moved slowly across the room. She was +still weak, and walked with difficulty. She stopped before a little +table, above which were several shelves, filled with books, papers, +letters, and writing material. + +“This is where she so often sat and wrote,” she said. “I can see her +now sitting here while we were at our lessons. She would read and +write, and every morning she would kneel here while the Gikhi had +prayers. I am afraid that we didn’t pay much attention to what was +being said. We were all too silly, thinking about other things. I guess +you understand, Miss, what girls of our age generally think about.” + +“Did the missionary and his wife know anything about your thoughts?” +Marion asked. + +“Oh, no. They never dreamed of such things. They lived too near heaven +for that. Perhaps that was where they made a mistake in thinking that +the girls were like themselves. Anyway, they were right, and we were +wrong. I see it now, when it is too late.” + +Zell’s eyes were misty as she stood there, resting her left hand upon +the table for support. Marion, too, was affected, as in her mind she +saw a faithful woman, who had given up all the luxuries of life for a +great cause, seated there or kneeling in prayer. What earnest petitions +had been offered up before that rude table, and how many letters +had been written to loved ones far away. The thought of that noble +woman was an inspiration to her, and helped her to be brave. Stepping +forward, she glanced at the books upon the shelves. She examined +several, and was surprised to find them all stained as if with water. + +“What happened to these?” she asked. “They look as if they had been +soaked.” + +“Oh, the big flood did that,” Zell explained. “It was one spring +several years ago, when the Kluksan was jammed up in the mountains +with ice. It broke and swept down upon The Gap in a rushing torrent. +The Gikhi was sitting at his table writing, when an Indian rushed in +and gave the warning. We had only time to get out of the house and +flee to the high bank when the water was in this house, and almost +everything was ruined. The Indians’ cabins were all swept away, while +only the mission house and church were left standing. You see, Miss, +God wouldn’t let the flood hurt them. That’s what the Indians said, and +I guess they were right. But they have forgotten about it, though,” she +added with a sigh. + +“Does a flood like that happen often?” Marion asked. + +“It was the first one in a long time. The old Indians said there was +another many years ago, when they were little.” + +“They must have had a hard time building their houses again.” + +“Indeed they did. The women and children slept in the church, and the +men made lean-tos. They built new cabins on higher ground, as you can +see for yourself.” + +Marion did not really hear these last words, as she was holding in +her hands another book she had taken from one of the shelves. It was +different from the others, and much of it was written with a lead +pencil. She began to read, and became so interested that for a time +she forgot everything else. It was an account of the founding of the +mission at The Gap, the coming of the missionaries to the place, their +struggles and the opposition of the Medicine Men. Although there was no +name, she was certain that it had been written by Mrs. Norris. What a +treasure it was, and what a pity that it had remained hidden for such a +length of time. She longed to read more, but she was aroused by Zell’s +voice. + +“The Gikhi! The Gikhi!” she exclaimed, pointing to the bedroom. “He is +calling!” + +Laying aside the book, Marion hastened across the room, pushed open the +door, which had been kept partly closed owing to the housecleaning, and +looked in. To her astonishment she saw the missionary sitting up in +bed and staring straight before him. Going swiftly to his side, she +spoke to him, and the sound of her voice attracted his attention. He +turned his eyes toward her, and reached out his right hand. This Marion +grasped, and the expression which overspread the old man’s face told of +his satisfaction. + +“Where have you been, dear?” he asked. “I thought you were never +coming.” + +“Just outside,” Marion replied, somewhat startled at the word of +endearment. “But come, lie down again. You must not tire yourself.” + +“Have the Indians come back yet?” the man asked, unheeding her words. +“It will be Christmas soon, and we must give them a good time.” + +“He thinks you are his wife,” Zell whispered, as she stood by the +nurse’s side. “He doesn’t know us. What a strange look he has in his +eyes.” + +As gently as possible Marion forced the missionary to lie back upon the +pillow. But he was excited, and held her hand fast. + +“That word doesn’t look right, Martha,” he said. “It seems strange.” + +“What word?” Marion asked, hoping to detect some gleam of intelligence +in his wandering mind. + +“No, no,” he continued, “that’s not the word I want. Where is it? +Ah, I have it!” His eyes brightened, and a smile illumined his face. +“Love--that’s it! ‘Greater love hath--’” He paused abruptly, drew his +hand quickly from Marion’s, and pointed excitedly with his forefinger +straight before him. “They’re coming!” he cried. “I see them; they’re +on the trail; they’ll be here soon! Thank God, my flock is coming back, +and Zell is with them! Don’t you see her, Martha? Little Zell, who left +us; she is coming home again!” + +With a cry of grief, the half-breed girl turned and fled from the room. +A few minutes later Marion found her curled up in a corner weeping as +if her heart would break. The nurse laid a gentle hand upon the girl’s +shoulder, but she threw it off and shrank back from the touch. + +“Oh, I am bad, bad!” she moaned. “Did you hear what he said? He was +longing for me all the time, and I never knew it.” + +“There, there, dear; you can’t help it now,” Marion soothed. “You made +a mistake, but he will forgive you when he gets well.” + +“But will he get well, Miss? Maybe he will die, and he will never know +how sorry I am.” + +“Let us hope that he will get better,” Marion encouraged. “When the +doctor comes he may be able to do something for him.” + +“Oh, I hope he will come soon, Miss. He will tell me how Tim is getting +along. But suppose he is dead! If he is, then I shall die too. I don’t +want to live with Tim gone.” + +“Don’t worry too much about that, dear,” and Marion put her arm around +the girl as she spoke. “The doctor will do all he can, never fear, and +our Heavenly Father will do the rest. Have you prayed for your lover, +Zell?” + +“I have tried to, Miss, but I guess my prayers will do no good. I have +been so bad that the Lord wouldn’t listen to me.” + +“He certainly will, Zell. He has promised to hear us when we come to +Him. Did He not say, ‘Call upon Me in the time of trouble and I will +hear thee’? Isn’t that His promise? Why, then, should you doubt His +word?” + +“Why, Miss, you talk just like Mrs. Norris used to. She often told us +the same thing. But she was a good woman, and her prayers were not all +answered. Why was that?” + +“Are you sure they were not, Zell?” + +“I am certain, Miss. She prayed for the Indians that they might all be +good. But look how they have wandered, and have nearly all left the +mission.” + +“Perhaps her prayers will be answered, Zell,” Marion quietly replied. +“She prayed that you might come back, and be a good girl. And here you +are, changed, and sorry for what you have done.” + +“Did she pray for me?” the girl asked in surprise. “How do you know +that? You never met Mrs. Norris, did you?” + +Marion made no immediate reply. She picked up a cup and spoon from the +table, and going to the stove dipped out some soup from a steaming pot. +Then going into the bedroom, she offered a little to the missionary, +who was now lying very still. + +“Take this,” she said; “it will do you good.” + +As the man paid no heed to her words, she filled the spoon with soup +and held it to his lips. Like a child he opened his mouth and drank it, +the first nourishment he had taken since the shooting. In this manner +Marion was able to feed him, and she gave him all the cup contained. +This, she felt, was an encouraging sign, and she returned to the other +room with greater hope for the invalid. She found Zell just where she +had left her, with hands clasped before her, and quietly sobbing. + +“Come, dear,” Marion brightly began. “I want to read something to you. +The good missionary took a little nourishment, and seems to be resting +comfortably. We can spend a cozy evening together in this nice warm +room.” + +Going over to the table, she picked up the book she had so hurriedly +laid down, and opened it. She then sat down upon a rough bench, and +motioned Zell to her side. The girl obeyed, and in another minute the +two were seated side by side with the light of a nearby candle resting +upon their fair faces. + +“I am going to read you something from this book,” Marion said. “It +was written years ago by Mrs. Norris. She wrote something every day, +and I feel that it will be perfectly right for us to read some of the +beautiful things she recorded here. Would you like to hear them?” + +“Oh, indeed I should, Miss,” was the eager reply. “I have often +wondered what she wrote in that book. She seemed so fond of it.” + +Marion passed over the part of the journal which told of the trials of +the missionaries when they first reached The Gap, until she came to an +entry which she knew would interest the girl. It was the day before +Christmas, and this the writer noted. + +“‘My dear husband has just come home after an absence of nearly two +weeks. He has been visiting the Indians, and many of them have come +back with him for the treat, and the wonderful Christmas services we +are planning to have. And what a present he brought with him--a little +girl, a half-breed! She is a dear little thing, and has such sweet +ways. She is only seven years old, yet she is exceptionally bright and +smart for her age. She is a real Christmas gift, the best I ever had. +How I have always longed for a child to care for, and perhaps she may +be the first-fruit of the mission school we hope to start for the +native children. She has such a pretty name--Zell----’” + +Here Marion was interrupted by a cry from the girl at her side. + +“Was it really me, Miss?” she asked. “Surely Mrs. Norris didn’t write +all that about me!” + +“Yes, she did, dear, and there is more. Listen: ‘The Indians have been +coming in and out of the house all the evening, and we have been so +busy. But my mind is so full of the little child that I can hardly +think of anything else. She is asleep now in a cozy place I have made +for her. My heart is overflowing with gratitude. As I sit here, with +the house at last quiet, and Charles reading his letters, which came +while he was away, I could sing for joy. But not being able to do that +for fear of waking the child, I think of that wonderful psalm, and can +understand the feeling of him who wrote it: “Praise the Lord, O my +soul, and all that is within me, praise His Holy Name.” God grant that +this little one brought so unexpectedly to my arms may grow in grace, +and in the knowledge and fear of the Lord.’” + +Thus page after page Marion read, the girl listening with almost +breathless interest. The story of the forming of the Indian school was +told in detail, the number of children in attendance, their names, and +the efforts made to instruct them. Then there was the story of the +falling away of the natives, and the great changes that took place at +The Gap. Marion read only a portion of this, and when she saw what was +written about Zell’s departure, she closed the book and laid it on the +table. + +“There, I think I’ve read enough this evening,” she said. “You must be +sleepy, and want to go to bed.” + +“No, no; read more,” Zell insisted. “Read about where I ran away from +the school.” + +“How do you know there is anything about that?” + +“I am sure there must be. I want to know what Mrs. Norris thought about +what I did.” + +“Perhaps it will make you very sad.” + +“I do not care, Miss. I want to hear.” + +Marion did as she was requested, and again opening the book, she turned +to the last few pages. Here the dates were far apart, showing that for +some time nothing had been recorded. Soiled with tears was the page +where the writing once more abruptly began. + +“‘I have had no heart to write anything for several weeks’”--so ran +the scribbled words, which made the reading difficult. “‘The worst has +at last arrived, and Zell, our darling child, is gone! She left us +for a white man. Charles can hardly believe it is true, and goes from +cabin to cabin searching for her. But I know, and so do the girls in +the school. I can hardly write, so full are my eyes with tears. Our +house is very lonely now without our darling. May the good Lord keep +her safe, and lead her back to us again. I have the feeling that if she +does come I shall not be here. I sometimes wonder--’” + +“That is all,” Marion quietly remarked, as she once more laid aside the +book. Her eyes were misty, while Zell’s were brimming with tears. + +“Oh, why didn’t she write more?” the girl impetuously asked. “Why did +she stop just there? What was she wondering about? How I should like to +know.” + +“We never shall, dear,” Marion replied. “She finished her journal just +there.” + +“She couldn’t write any more, Miss; that was the reason. Her heart was +broken because I ran away. I never imagined she would feel like that.” + +“Do not worry too much about it now, dear,” Marion advised. “You are +very weak yet. When you are stronger we shall talk it all over. You +must go to bed now and get a good sleep. I shall sit up for a while, +and watch until Kate comes. She said she would stay with us to-night.” + +“Do you think the doctor will be here to-morrow?” Zell asked. + +“Perhaps so. If he is at Big Chance, it should not take him long to +make the journey.” + +“Oh, I hope he will come soon, and bring good news about Tim. +Surely the good Lord won’t let Tim die when I want him so much. You +understand, don’t you, Miss?” + +“Indeed I do,” Marion replied, giving the girl an affectionate kiss. +“Lovers understand many things which are hidden from others. But, +there, you must go right to bed. I shall come presently and tuck you +in.” + + + + +CHAPTER 28 + +Waiting + + +That night Marion had a fairly good sleep, which she sorely needed. It +was the first real rest she had enjoyed since leaving Hugo’s cabin on +the overland trail. She awoke greatly refreshed, and found the Indian +woman preparing breakfast. Zell was also awake, and brighter than she +had been for days. + +“Oh, Miss!” she exclaimed as Marion entered her room, “I’ve had such a +wonderful dream. Tim was standing right by my side, looking so well and +strong. I am sure it is a sign that he is all right.” + +“Let us hope that your dream will come true,” Marion replied with a +smile. “I, too, had such a nice dream, and almost like yours.” + +“Was it about the sergeant, Miss?” + +“Yes, and he was with us here and we were all so happy. But you had +better get up now, dear, for Kate has breakfast almost ready.” + +Marion then went to see how the missionary was getting along. She found +him asleep, although the Indian woman told her that he had talked a +great deal during the night, and kept saying things which she could not +at times understand. + +“Gikhi talk much,” she said. “Gikhi sing some tam’, all sam’ in church. +Gikhi pray for Injun, all sam’ dis,” and she clasped her hands together +and cast her eyes upwards. “Gikhi good man, eh?” + +“He certainly is, Kate. He was always good to the Indians, was he not?” + +“Ah, ah, good. De Lord no let Gikhi die, eh?” + +“Let us hope not, Kate. He seems better, doesn’t he?” + +“Mebbe so. Doctor come bimeby. Doctor savvey.” + +That day was a long one for Marion. She attended to the missionary, and +busied herself about the house. Zell was more like her former self, and +talked a great deal about the coming of the doctor. She sat much of the +time near the little window looking down The Gap in the direction of +Big Chance. + +“They will come that way,” she said, “and I want to be the first to see +them. I know they will come to-day, and will bring good news about Tim. +The Golden Horn is smiling, and that is another sign that all is well. +Do you believe in signs, Miss?” + +“No, I cannot truthfully say that I do. Years ago I did, but I have got +all over that.” + +“But I believe in them, Miss,” Zell declared. “The Indians have all +kinds of signs, and they tell many things by them. They believe in +dreams, too. Doesn’t the Bible tell about dreams which came true? I +often think about the dream which saved the life of little Jesus. If +that dream was true, why shouldn’t it be so to-day?” + +This was more than Marion was able to explain. She merely told the girl +that she hoped her dream would come true, and that she would soon have +her lover with her. Thus all through the day they waited and watched +for the absent ones. Several times the missionary aroused, asked for +his wife, and talked about the Indians, and the mission work. He took +a little nourishment, but showed no sign that he knew what was taking +place around him. It was only at the close of the day that he become +very restless, tried to get up, and talked incessantly. He was seeing +wonderful things, so it seemed to the nurse, as she sat and watched +him. His eyes glowed, and a beautiful smile would often overspread his +face. + +All day long Zell sat by the window and watched down The Gap. As the +afternoon wore away, and night drew near, she became very anxious, and +asked over and over again why the travellers did not come. Then when it +became dark she crept into the room where the missionary was lying, and +crouched upon the floor with her eyes fixed intently upon the face of +the unconscious man. Marion tried to comfort her, but her words seemed +to have no effect. + +“They will never come!” she moaned. “Something has happened to Tim, +and they don’t want to tell me. Or maybe they have been lost on that +terrible overland trail. A snow-slide may have swept them away.” + +“You must not get discouraged, dear,” Marion replied. “It is a long +way to Big Chance and back. Perhaps the doctor was not there, and--and +Hugo had to go to Kynox. The doctor will come as fast as he can, let us +never doubt that. Let us get supper now, and be ready if they should +come this evening.” + +“I don’t want anything to eat, Miss,” Zell declared, “and if Tim dies, +I never want to eat again. Do hearts sometimes break for grief, Miss? I +am sure mine is almost breaking now. I don’t believe a girl ever loved +anyone as I love Tim.” + +The girl had risen from the floor and was standing erect now. Her face +was flushed, and her dark eyes were filled with tears. Marion had never +seen her look so beautiful, and she recorded a silent prayer that +the poor girl might have her lover restored to her again. There was +nothing conventional about this girl. She was one with the things of +nature, and the untamed spirit of roving natives animated her soul. +What she did, she did with tremendous intensity, and her love was as a +burning fire that cannot be quenched. Her every movement was full of +grace, and there was a remarkable refinement about her entire manner. +Never once did Marion hear her utter a wrong word, nor express an +improper wish. Her heart seemed pure, and her love a most sacred thing. +This was shown as the two sat that night near the stove. + +“Is it wrong, Miss, to love as I love?” she suddenly asked. + +“Why no, dear. I am certain it is right. Why do you ask such a question +as that?” + +“Oh, I hardly know,” and the girl sighed as she spoke, and placed her +right hand wearily to her forehead. “But sometimes I think that my love +is so wonderful a thing that it isn’t meant for such a bad girl as I +am. Perhaps God thinks that it isn’t right for me to love Tim as I do.” + +“That is all nonsense, Zell,” Marion chided. “God knows your heart, and +what a good girl you really are. You must not think that you are bad, +for you are not. I know you ran away from school, but that doesn’t mean +that you are bad. Let us call it a mistake.” + +“And you don’t think God will punish me by taking Tim away when I want +him so much?” + +“No dear, God will not do that to punish you, I feel certain. If Tim +should die, which we hope and pray he will not, it will not be God’s +doings, but because a bad man shot him. We must not blame God for what +others do. He wants us to live and be happy.” + +“Oh, I am so glad to hear you say that,” the girl replied, her eyes +shining with gratitude. “And it is so nice to feel that God will not +punish me for what I did. I was afraid he would.” + +Marion thought of the girl’s words as she sat alone that night. Zell +was asleep in the little room, and the Indian woman was lying upon +the cot near the stove. The house was very quiet, the crackling of +the sticks in the stove being the only sound which broke the silence. +Marion had been reading again the Journal, but she now let the book lie +open in her lap, her mind filled with conflicting thoughts. Strange +were the ways of life, she mused. Zell imagined that God punished +people for not being good. But what about the earnest missionaries who +had toiled so long among the Indians at The Gap? Surely there was no +injustice with God. His ways, she knew, were past finding out, although +she was certain that He did all things well, and overruled evil for +good. Again she picked up the book and began to read at random words +written with a trembling hand. + +“The Indians are leaving us, being drawn away by the attractions of +white men. Only a few come to service now, and no doubt they will +soon go, too. We have no children at school now, and the house is +very lonely. We do not know what to do to counteract the mischief +which has been wrought in our flock. We cannot offer the natives the +allurements of the world which seem to appeal to them so strongly. +Charles continues his translation work and ministering to the needs of +the few Indians who remain, while I potter around the house and do a +little reading and writing. My dear husband and I had a long, serious +talk this morning, and took our troubles to Him, who has never failed +us yet, and we were greatly comforted. Charles read that beautiful +and pathetic story of the Master kneeling alone in Gethsemane, and it +cheered us.” + +Farther on she came to another entry which arrested her attention. + +“We were discussing to-day the advisability of giving up our work +here, as Tom and Kate are the only Indians who are now with us. We +were undecided what to do, whether to go to some other place or stay +here, when a remarkable thing happened. My husband was seated at his +table with his Bible open before him. Almost unconsciously he kept +turning the pages as we talked, and when at last we were silent for +a few minutes, each knowing that the time of decision had finally +arrived, Charles suddenly bent forward, gave a slight exclamation of +astonishment, and fixed his eyes intently upon the page open before +him. I never saw such an expression of awe upon his face. He seemed +like a man transfigured, and his eyes shone with a wonderful light. +He then began to read in a low impressive voice from Ezekiel, ‘And I +sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand +in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it; but I +found none.’ So overwhelmed was Charles by these words, that he rose to +his feet and paced rapidly up and down the room. ‘The Gap, The Gap,’ +he repeated, ‘I must stand in the gap, Martha. The Lord needs me here. +This is The Gap, the place where I must remain. Wonderful, isn’t it, +that I should be led to that passage? The Lord shall not want for a man +to stand in The Gap here in the north, so long as I live.’ He urged me +to go home to England, but I would not listen to such an idea. My place +is by the side of my dear husband, for the Lord sometimes needs a +woman to stand in the gap as well as a man. We then both knelt down and +thanked God for His guidance in our time of perplexity. Our duty is now +clear, and we look forward to the future with trustful hearts.” + +Marion’s eyes were dim with tears as she finished reading this +soul-stirring record of a noble woman. Those words inspired her, and +made her own troubles seem small. And Mrs. Norris had stood in the gap, +dying at her post of duty. Surely such faith and self-sacrifice would +not be in vain. With the wreck of all their work around them, two great +souls could still go forward in simple trust that all things would come +out right at last. Now one was gone, and the other was lying battling +for life in his little room. Would there ever come an answer to their +prayers? she wondered, or had they toiled in vain? + +She was aroused by the missionary’s voice. It was so different from +the last few days that she was somewhat startled. Hurrying to the +bedroom, she saw the old man’s eyes fixed intently upon the door with a +wondering look. Seeing her, he smiled. + +“What has happened?” he asked in a feeble but natural voice. “What am I +doing here in bed? And who are you? I never saw you before.” + +“You have been very ill,” Marion explained, going to his side. “I am a +nurse, Marion Brisbane, from Kynox.” + +“I have been ill, you say? That is strange. Ah, now I begin to +understand. It was that man with the revolver. Did he shoot me? Yes, I +remember. He wanted something I had. Did he get it?” + +“What was it?” Marion asked. + +“The ring Hugo, the trapper, gave me to keep. Oh, I hope it is safe.” + +“There, now, you must not worry, Mr. Norris,” Marion replied. “Just +keep still, and I shall get you something to eat. You are very weak +yet. The doctor should be here soon.” + +“What doctor?” + +“Dr. Rainsford, from Kynox. He should arrive at any minute now.” + +“Who went for him?” + +“A friend of yours, Hugo, the trapper.” + +“He did!” + +Marion at length left the room and soon returned bringing some rich +broth she had in readiness. She placed the cup on a small table by the +bed. + +“Drink this,” she quietly ordered. “You must be hungry.” + +“I suppose I am,” the missionary replied as he complied with her +request. “It is good of you to wait upon me. I am not used to such +attention, and it seems strange.” + +“You will have to get used to it, then, Mr. Norris. I am your nurse, +and am in the habit of being obeyed.” + +The missionary smiled as he sipped the broth, and toyed with the spoon +in the cup. He was very weak, and the effect of speaking and moving +exhausted him. This Marion saw, and she turned to leave him, when he +touched her gently on the arm. + +“Don’t go yet,” he said. “I want to ask you a question. I am weak, I +know, but tell me, have the Indians come back yet?” + +“Not yet,” was the reluctant reply. + +“You think they are coming, then?” There was a note of intense +eagerness in the old man’s voice. + +“Let us hope so, Mr. Norris. Perhaps they will be here in time for +Christmas.” This was merely a surmise on Marion’s part, but she had to +say something of an encouraging nature. + +“Yes, I believe they will be here for Christmas,” and the man’s face +brightened. “They always came then, and we had such a happy time. +Martha, my dear wife, always looked forward to this blessed season. I +feel certain that my flock will come back. I can see them trooping in +from the distant camping-places, all eager to outstrip one another. +Yes, they will surely come.” + +Leaving him with his vision, Marion slipped out of the room. She knew +that he should be quiet, and she also wished to be by herself, that she +might think. She was puzzled at the missionary’s unexpected recovery. +She sat down near the stove, and leaned back against the wall, for she +felt unusually tired. Had the man been shot? she asked herself. Perhaps +the bullet had not entered his body as she had imagined. It might have +struck him a glancing blow on the head. She should have questioned +Tom, the Indian, more closely. Was it possible that after all he might +recover, and live to stand in The Gap for some time yet? + +After a while she rose to her feet, moved softly to the door of the +bedroom, and looked in. What she saw gave her great hope. The invalid’s +eyes were closed, and his sleep was as that of a little child. + + + + +CHAPTER 29 + +Good News + + +Grey dawn found Marion at work preparing breakfast. There was plenty +of food, for Sergeant North had attended to that before leaving. The +missionary’s cache had been drawn upon, and the Indian woman had +brought what she could spare from her own cabin. Marion knew that Zell +would soon be awake and ready for something to eat. She wished to have +the girl well and strong for the trip back to Big Chance, which she +knew would have to be made ere long. Then the missionary needed more +nourishing food that he, too, might gain in strength. She also had the +absent ones in mind. At any minute her father and the doctor might +arrive, or the sergeant and the constable. Deep in her heart she was +more anxious about John’s return than any one else. She was not so +much concerned now about the missionary, as he seemed to be somewhat +improved. Anyway, he was being well looked after. But with John, it was +different. She knew of his great daring when in the line of duty, and +who could tell what might happen when he overtook the villain he was +pursuing? Suppose he should be shot! The thought was terrible, and her +hands trembled as she lifted a kettle from the stove. + +At that instant a sound outside arrested her attention. Then she heard +the jingle of bells, and voices of men. In another minute the door +was thrust suddenly open and her father entered. Closing the door to +keep out the cold, he stood for a few seconds peering keenly before +him, accustoming his eyes to the dimness within. Marion could see him +plainly, and how big and powerful he appeared. What a tower of strength +he seemed to her just then. He was heavily hooded, and the frost hung +thick upon his beard and eyelashes. Never was she more delighted to see +anyone, and she hurried quickly toward him. + +“Oh, father,” she cried, “I am so glad you have come. Is the doctor +with you?” + +“Yes, he is here safe and sound. He is looking after the dogs, so will +be in presently. How is the missionary?” + +“Much better, I believe. He has regained consciousness. But tell me, +how is Tim, Zell’s lover?” + +“Oh, he’s getting along great, and should be well in a few weeks. The +doctor got there just in the nick of time. My, he did a clever piece of +work.” + +Hugo had scarcely finished speaking when with a great cry of joy Zell +darted from her bedroom, and rushed toward the trapper. She had slept +fully dressed so as to be ready should the doctor arrive in the night. +Her eyes were shining and her face beaming with joy. Hugo looked at her +with admiration. + +“Well, bless my heart!” he exclaimed. “This doesn’t look like the +little girl I left so sick but a few days ago.” + +“Is Tim really better?” Zell asked, unheeding his comment. “Say it +again.” + +“Yes, he is better, thanks to the Good Lord and the doctor. But he +needs something yet to make the cure complete.” + +“And what is that?” Zell almost breathlessly inquired. + +“A little lass who scurried away and got into no end of trouble. When +she gets back to Big Chance Tim will be all right. But, hello! what’s +the matter? What are you blushing about?” + +Hugo was in great spirits, an entirely changed man from the sullen and +morose rover of the trails. He seemed like one who had escaped from +prison, and was enjoying to the full his unaccustomed freedom. Marion +watched him with wonder and secret rejoicing. He was like the father +she had known as a little girl. He had the same hearty voice and the +ringing laugh. His very presence inspired confidence and good will. + +In a few minutes the doctor entered and was given a hearty greeting by +Marion and Zell. He was a splendid type of man, a great trailsman, and +beloved by miners and Indians alike. He had given up a good practice +to come to the north to assist in the medical work which was being +carried on at Kynox and other centres. No distance was too great, +and difficulties were as nothing in his work of loving mercy. The +most abject native would receive from him the same care as the most +important person in the country. To the hospital at Kynox he had been a +tower of strength, and everywhere the miners and prospectors swore by +the word and honor of Doctor Stephen Rainsford. + +“This is the life I like best,” he had once said to a man who had asked +him why he was willing to bury himself in the north. “It is the kind +of service that suits my make-up. Cities and towns outside are crowded +with doctors, too many, in fact, but in a country such as this they are +very scarce.” + +Dr. Rainsford examined the missionary most thoroughly. He would not +touch a bite of food until he had done so, hungry and tired though he +was. + +“You are right in your conjecture, Miss Brisbane,” he at last informed +the nurse. “The bullet did not enter his body, as you at first +supposed. It evidently struck him a glancing blow on the head, judging +from the mark I find there. Then I find another mark which might have +been made when he fell, hitting, no doubt, the table as he did so. It +was certainly a narrow escape.” + +“It was the Lord’s doing,” the missionary quietly replied. “Only His +intervention saved me, for the revolver was fired pointblank at my +head. He must have work for me still to do or else He would not have +spared me. It is good of you, doctor, to come here on my behalf. I have +often heard of your noble deeds. I hope you will be comfortable in this +humble abode, and make yourself perfectly at home.” + +This Dr. Rainsford was well able to do. He was the life of the mission +house, and as he and Hugo ate the breakfast which Marion had prepared, +he related amusing incidents of the trip from Big Chance. + +“My friend Hugo, here, set me a hard pace,” he laughingly remarked. “He +was in such a hurry that he would hardly stop to eat or to sleep.” + +“You seemed to be hungry about all the time,” the trapper laughingly +replied. “You wanted to stop every hour or so for something to eat. We +were entirely out of grub when we got here.” + +“Did you pass the place where we had that terrible experience with the +snow-slide?” Marion asked. “I shudder whenever I think of it.” + +“We did, although the last storm covered up the great scar. I was in +fear of my life when coming along that trail. We heard a great roar +one night and I am certain it was another avalanche. We shall not go +back that way, if I have anything to say about it.” + +“When do you expect to return, doctor?” + +“As soon as possible. I may be needed at Kynox. I have been away for +some time.” + +“Are the nurses getting on all right?” + +“Very well, indeed. But they were worrying about you when I left.” + +“Can’t you wait until Sergeant North and the constable return?” Marion +asked. “It would be so nice for us all to go back together.” + +“When do you expect them, Miss Brisbane?” + +“I do not know. It is impossible to tell how long it will take them to +capture the man they are after. You have heard about the murder near +the C. D. Cut-off, I suppose?” + +“Oh, yes, it is the talk of the entire country. And, by the way, I have +something which will interest you in connection with that murder. It is +an article in a paper I received just before I left Kynox. And I have +several letters for you, too, I had forgotten all about them.” + +Rising and crossing the room, he picked up a small leather bag he had +deposited on a bench, opened it, fumbled around and at last brought +forth a package. + +“That’s for the sergeant,” he explained. “Letters galore. Ah, here’s +yours, Miss Brisbane,” he continued as he handed to her several letters +tied together with a string. + +Eagerly Marion cut the string and examined the letters. By the +postmarks she had a fairly good idea from whom they came, friends she +had known in other days, and who had never forgotten her. What a feast +she would have reading their messages when alone by herself, if ever +that time should come. + +“Yes, here’s the paper at last.” It was the doctor speaking, and +glancing up, Marion saw him unfolding a copy of the little weekly paper +published at Swift Stream. “Now, listen to this,” he continued, “and +let me know what you make of it.” He then began to read. + +“‘The C. D. Cut-off Murder. + +“‘A recent despatch throws new light upon the murder of William Haines +and his wife which took place a short time ago near the C. D. Cut-off. +From the description of them which has been received it seems that +they were living under an assumed name. They were two of a noted band +of thieves, but having changed their manner of living they fled to +the Yukon, buried themselves in the wilderness. Here Haines, whose +real name was Marson, cut wood for the river steamers, and rocked out +gold on the river bars during the summer. He and his wife were noted +for their hospitality to all travellers along the river. The murderer +has not yet been found, although a certain man is under suspicion. +The Police have information that may lead to his conviction should he +be found. It seems that this man knew Haines and his wife years ago, +and was himself one of the notorious band of thieves. He evidently +discovered the whereabouts of his former companions, and visited them. +What led to the fearful crime is not as yet known. It is surmised, +however, that the Haines possessed considerable money, or valuable +jewellery, and a quarrel over this may have been the cause of the +murder.’” + +“That’s it, I believe,” Hugo interrupted. “There was a ring, and I +found it, a valuable one, if I am not greatly mistaken.” + +“You!” the doctor exclaimed, nearly dropping his paper in his +excitement. “Why, then, didn’t you give it to the Police? What did you +do with it?” + +“Kept it, of course, doctor, until I found someone I could trust. There +were several reasons why I didn’t hand it over to the Police. And, +besides, I wanted to keep it myself until I found the man who killed +Bill Haines and his wife, and then--” Hugo’s eyes flashed with the old +fire as he abruptly ended, and stood gazing straight before him. + +“Have you the ring now?” Marion asked. Her voice was low, and the old +dread was upon her. Would not the possession of the ring implicate her +father in the crime? How could he clear himself? + +“No, I have not the ring,” Hugo replied. “I gave it to the missionary +to keep for me. But I cannot find it anywhere. It must be hidden in a +very secure place, or else it has been stolen.” + +“It has been stolen.” + +These low impressive words caused all to start and look quickly around. +What they saw was almost unbelievable. There in the doorway stood the +missionary, white and haggard. His eyes were bright and filled with the +light of determination. He tottered and leaned against the door post +for support. The doctor stepped forward to assist him. + +“You should not be here,” he advised. “You are not strong enough to +walk yet. Let me help you back to bed.” + +“No, no, I must stay up for a while. I shall soon be all right. I have +something to tell you, and the Indians will soon be here, so I must be +ready to receive them. Help me to my chair, please.” + +Seeing how thoroughly determined the old man was, the doctor did as +he was requested, and assisted him to his chair which Hugo had drawn +up close to the stove. Wearily the missionary sank down and his head +drooped forward. Marion at once brought him a drink of hot broth which +when he had taken he felt stronger. + +“Thank you so much,” he murmured. “You are all very good to me. I shall +be stronger in a few minutes. I am weaker than I thought I was. Now, +about the ring. You gave it to me, Hugo, to keep. But it was stolen by +Bill, the Slugger. When I wouldn’t give it to him, he shot me. That is +all I remember. He must have taken it from my pocket.” + +A cry from Zell startled them. The girl was standing before the +missionary with an expression of great fear upon her face. + +“What is the matter, dear?” Marion asked, going to her side. + +“It was Bill who killed Bill Haines and his wife,” she said in a hoarse +whisper. “Tim told me so. But don’t let Bill know that I told you, or +he will kill me.” + +“Don’t you worry about that, girl,” Hugo replied. “Bill won’t touch +you. He’ll have all that he can attend to without meddling with you.” + +Just at that moment the door suddenly opened and Kate entered. She was +unusually excited, and the expression upon her face was one of great +joy. She crossed the room and stood before the missionary. + +“Injun come,” she said. “More bimeby.” + +“I know it, Kate,” was the quiet reply. “The Lord told me that they +were coming. Heat the church and ring the bell at service time.” + +“Church warm, Gikhi. Kate no let fire go out.” + +“What! did you keep the fire going?” Mr. Norris asked in surprise. + +“Ah, ah, Kate keep church warm.” + +“Why? I didn’t tell you to do that.” + +“Gikhi pray for Injun, eh? Gikhi pray Injun come bimeby?” + +“Yes, Kate, I always prayed that the Indians might return some day.” + +“Ah, ah, good,” and the woman’s face beamed with pleasure. “Kate know +Lord hear Gikhi. Kate have church warm when Injun come.” + +Impulsively the missionary reached out and caught Kate’s rough hand in +his. There were tears in his eyes, and he was deeply impressed by this +woman’s remarkable faith and unswerving devotion. + +“God bless you, Kate,” he murmured. “Your faith is wonderful.” + +Marion’s eyes were misty as she stood silently witnessing this moving +scene. Even Hugo and the doctor were deeply affected. They turned away, +that their emotion might not be noted. But with Zell it was different. +She dropped upon her knees before the missionary, caught his disengaged +hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. She uttered no sound, but her +action was more eloquent than words, and the missionary understood and +was glad. + + + + +CHAPTER 30 + +His Message of Farewell + + +The missionary was greatly interested over the arrival of the natives. +He insisted upon sitting at the little window facing the village where +through a small clear space he could watch all that was going on +outside. Zell stood near and at times she would draw his attention to +Indians who passed on their way to their lodges. + +“Look, Gikhi, there are Slim Jim and his wife. They seem to be glad to +get back. And, oh, there is Tommy Titsu with his mother! How big he is. +He has grown so much since he left the school.” + +And truly it was an inspiring scene upon which their eyes rested. The +entire place had suddenly become animated as if by magic. Men, women, +and children were hurrying to and fro, and dogs innumerable were +scurrying about. But so far not one of the Indians had come to the +mission house, although all had glanced in that direction in passing. +At length Kate entered and approached the missionary. Upon her face was +an expression of deep concern. + +“What is the matter, Kate?” the missionary asked. + +“Tom no come,” she replied. “Tom die, mebbe.” + +“Why, what makes you think so, Kate?” + +“Injun say Tom lost. Injun drink hootch, drive Tom from lodge. Injun no +find Tom.” + +“Where was that?” + +“In hills. Bad white man bring hootch. Injun drink. Tom say ‘stop.’ +Injun hit Tom on head. Tom go ’way, die, mebbe.” + +“Where are the white men now, Kate?” + +“P’lice ketch ’um. Injun bring white man to Gap.” + +“Are they here?” Marion eagerly asked. “Have the Police come in?” + +“No P’lice come,” the woman replied. “Injun bring white man.” + +“Do they know where the Police are?” + +“Injun no savvey. Chase Bill, mebbe.” + +Although Marion was interested in the coming of the Indians, she was +greatly disappointed because the sergeant had not returned. Hugo +noticed this, and whispered a few words to the doctor, and together +they left the building. They were gone for about an hour, and when they +returned they explained where they had been. + +“We’ve been interviewing those white men,” the doctor announced, “and +a queer story they relate. They told us that they were trading with +the natives when two policemen came upon them, seized them and sent +them to The Gap under a strong Indian guard. That was their yarn. But +we learned from several natives that they were hootch pedlars, and had +stirred up a large camp of natives to wild frenzy, and were making +things lively. They also cast out Tom, the Indian, when he tried to +show them the error of their ways.” + +“Did they harm the sergeant and the constable?” Marion anxiously asked. + +“Indeed they didn’t,” Hugo replied. “From what we gather those two men +struck terror into the hearts of the entire band by their stern and +prompt action. How I wish I had been there. Trust Sergeant North to +handle a serious situation. He has never failed yet.” + +“Perhaps it will be different, though, when he meets Bill, the +Slugger,” Marion suggested. “He is a desperate man, so I have heard.” + +“He may be all that, but what can he do against those two sleuth-hounds +of the trails? He won’t have even a look-in.” + +“But perhaps he will see them coming, hide, and shoot them down before +they can do anything.” + +Both Hugo and the doctor laughed at her fears, and told her not to +worry. But worry she did, and she imagined the sergeant lying in the +snow with no one to help him. She told herself that she was very +foolish, but she could not banish the thought. Anyway, she felt that +she must hide her fears, so she said nothing more, and went quietly +about her work. + +During the afternoon a number of Indians came to the house, and to +these the missionary talked in the native tongue. Marion could not +understand anything of the conversation, but Zell knew, and she +interpreted in a whisper what was being said. + +“The Gikhi is saying how pleased he is to see the Indians back,” she +explained to the nurse. “He is asking how they made out with their +trapping, and if they brought in many pelts. They are telling him that +they have done very well, but that they haven’t had as good success +as they used to when they held services every night in their lodges. +They are asking the Gikhi to forgive them, and he says he will, but +that they must ask God to forgive them. They say they will, and are now +asking for a service to-night in the church. The Gikhi tells them how +pleased he is, and that he will be there to speak to all the Indians.” + +When the natives had gone, the missionary showed signs of great +weariness, so the doctor advised him to lie down and rest. + +“You must be strong for the service to-night,” he informed him. “You +are weak yet, remember, and you must be in a fit condition to speak to +your flock.” + +“You are quite right,” the old man agreed, as he allowed himself to +be led to his little room. “I must speak to them, for there are many +things I have to say. This has been a wonderful day, and the Lord +is bringing marvellous things to pass. I have lived to see my flock +return. Oh, if my dear wife were only here to be a sharer of my joy!” + +During the remainder of the afternoon the house was kept very quiet so +as not to disturb the missionary. Hugo and the doctor both had a sleep, +which they needed. Marion and Zell sat by the window watching what +was taking place outside until darkness shrouded the land. They then +lighted several candles, and Zell poured out to the nurse the thoughts +which were uppermost in her mind, and so near her heart. + +“The Gikhi will need someone to look after him, Miss, and I am going to +stay with him. Tim, I know, will come, too, and the Gikhi will marry us +and we can live right here. I want to make up for the wrong I did, and +show the Gikhi that I am a good girl.” + +“That is a splendid plan, Zell,” Marion replied. “But I thought that +you were planning to go outside. You always wanted to go, didn’t you?” + +“I want to do that more than anything in the world except to marry +Tim,” was the candid confession. “But it is my duty to stay here and +look after the Gikhi. I long to see the wonderful things which Tim has +told me about in the big cities outside. But while the Gikhi is alive, +I am going to stay and care for him--that is, if he will let me.” + +“You are a good girl, Zell,” Marion whispered, as she placed her arm +lovingly around her companion and drew her close to her. “I wish you +could go with me when I leave this country. I shall miss you very much.” + +“And will you go away, Miss?” Zell asked. “Oh, how can I get along +without you? You have been so good to me. I shall never forget you.” + +Shortly before the appointed time for service, the missionary was up +and eager to reach the building. He partook of a little food, and when +well wrapped in his big fur coat, he was assisted by Hugo and the +doctor out of the house and across the open. He stepped out bravely +at first, but by the time the church was reached he was very weak. +He smiled as he entered the building, which was filled with natives, +some being forced to stand. He walked slowly up the aisle, and when +he reached the little vestry, he sank down upon a small bench against +the wall. He was determined to wear his robes, and Marion, who had +followed, assisted him with his long white surplice, which came almost +to his feet. + +“My stole, my stole; don’t forget that,” he reminded. “There it is +hanging on that peg. The Indians always like to see me fully robed.” + +He was trembling with excitement as he made his way out of the vestry +into the chancel. Here he knelt down, and when he had risen to his +feet, he announced a hymn, and in a quavering voice started the tune in +the native language. The Indians followed, and soon all were singing +in the heartiest manner. To Marion this was all very wonderful, and +she knew that the Indians were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Then +followed the service, after which the missionary began his address. He +leaned against the lectern for support, and it was only his excitement +which enabled him to stand at all. He spoke very impressively for some +time, his voice growing weaker every minute. Marion longed to speak to +him, and advise him to desist, but his animated face and the marvellous +light in his eyes restrained her. He seemed to her like some unearthly +being. His white hair, flowing beard, and tall form made a most +impressive scene in that dimly-lighted building. He had his message to +deliver, and it would be almost sacrilege to interrupt him. + +At length he stopped, placed his hand wearily to his forehead, and then +began to speak in English. + +“I wish to say a few words to you, my kind white friends,” he said. +“This service is the direct answer to my prayers. I have waited long +for this occasion, and I knew that the Lord would hear, and bring this +to pass. At times I was tempted to leave this place and go elsewhere. +But I was determined that the Lord would not be without a man to stand +in The Gap. I have stood here for long years, and the Lord has been +very good. I can say like that worthy man of old, ‘Lord, now lettest +Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy word. For mine eyes +have seen Thy salvation which Thou hast prepared--’” + +He suddenly stopped, his face turned deathly white, his hands groped as +if for support, and then he dropped upon the floor right at the foot +of the lectern. With a startled cry, Marion darted to his side, while +Hugo and the doctor hurried forward. The latter knelt upon the floor +and quickly examined the prostrate man. For a few minutes a complete +silence prevailed. The Indians stood as statues, awe-struck by the +scene before them. At length the doctor rose to his feet, his face +very grave. He stood as if dazed. Marion noticed this, and touched him +lightly on the arm. + +“Can’t you do anything for him?” she asked. + +“No, he is beyond earthly aid,” he replied in a low whisper. + +“We must tell the Indians and get them out of the church.” + +So absorbed was Marion with what had just taken place that she noticed +nothing else. She stood bewildered and perplexed, not even heeding +the light tread of moccasined feet up the aisle. But when a big tall +form stood by her side, she glanced quickly around, and when she saw +Sergeant North standing there it was only with difficulty that she +suppressed a cry of joy and astonishment. The next instant a strong +arm was placed around her, and silently the two stood and looked +steadfastly upon the dead man. Although greatly saddened with what +had just taken place, Marion’s heart beat fast at the thought that +John was safe and once more with her. She knew that the missionary had +served his life nobly and well, and that he had died in harness, and +in the very place where he would have wished to die, surrounded by his +returned flock for whom he had given his life. It surely was not wrong +for her to feel happy on such an occasion with her loved one with her +again. + +And as they stood there, Old Tom, Kate, and Zell came slowly forward, +and stood looking upon their beloved Gikhi. Marion was impressed at +the quietness of their manner, and the expression of awe and reverence +upon their faces. At a word from the doctor, Tom turned and spoke +briefly to the Indians. In a few minutes they were out of the church +and hurrying to their own lodges. + +“Perhaps you had better go back to the mission house, Miss Brisbane,” +the doctor suggested. “The sergeant might as well go with you. Hugo, +Tom, and I can do all that’s necessary now.” + +The sergeant at once took a step forward, faced the missionary lying +before him, and gave the military salute. + +“To a noble man,” he simply explained. He then turned, took Marion by +the arm, and together they moved down the aisle, and out of the church. + + + + +CHAPTER 31 + +Plans + + +“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Reverently the doctor +read the words to the committal of the Burial Service, while Hugo stood +near and sprinkled the earth upon the rough box which contained the +mortal remains of Charles Norris. The Indians had nearly all arrived +and were crowded about the open grave. They had lost their best earthly +friend, and their sad faces showed how fully they realised the fact. +Marion, with Zell, stood near the grave with her father on one side and +the sergeant on the other, with the constable just behind. Close by +was another grave, marked with a simple wooden cross, bearing only the +name of Martha Norris, and the date of her death. As Marion looked at +the emblem of salvation she thought of the life which the woman had led +as revealed by the Journal she had left. Soon there would be another +cross, and in years to come strangers would read the inscriptions, and +wonder, perhaps. But the Indians would remember, she felt sure, and +would pass on from generation to generation the story of those two +pioneers of the Gospel at The Gap. + +John North, too, was thinking deeply. He had not spoken again of the +deep things of his heart since that day out in the mountains. Marion +knew nothing of all this, although she was surprised at his fervent +“Amen” when the doctor had finished reading the Burial Service. But as +she turned away from the grave and walked slowly back to the mission +house, he told her all. It was the confession of a man who had fought +a hard fight against his doubts, and had conquered. There was little +of the sentimental about North, but his body trembled and his voice +became somewhat husky as he talked. Among other things he told of the +impression made upon him by the sight of the missionary maintaining his +post at The Gap, and the thoughts which had come to him on the mountain +trail. He had not finished his story when they reached the mission +house and entered. Then it was that Marion threw her arms impetuously +around his neck, and in words broken with emotion told him of her joy +at the great change that had come into his life. + +“It is almost too good to be true,” she said. “How I have longed and +prayed that it might come some day, but I had no idea it would be so +soon.” + +“It is due in a large measure to you, sweetheart,” the sergeant +acknowledged, giving her an affectionate kiss. “It was your love which +first began to warm the coldness of my heart. I thought that such a +thing was impossible until I met you. Then all that followed were like +so many links in the wonderful chain of faith. I shall never forget +that terrible night I spent with that raving maniac in that cabin. +I comprehended then as never before the hopeless nature of unbelief +and disobedience to the higher life of the Master. I shall tell you +sometime of the wonderful thoughts that came to me as I watched by that +wretched man. They are almost too sacred to mention, but I shall reveal +them to you some day. Then when we reached The Gap in time to attend +that service, and listened to the missionary’s farewell words, and +later looked upon his face so calm in death, the last strand of doubt +was broken. What a difference between that man of God and the wretched +raving creature we have confined in the patrol-house over yonder. That +missionary standing at his post of duty, or ‘in the gap,’ as he termed +it, has had a far more reaching effect than he ever knew. His remaining +at his post, true and faithful, undaunted by failure, praying and +trusting, was an important link in saving my soul. There, I’m afraid +that I have tired you with all this. Anyway, it relieves me to have +someone to speak to.” + +“Don’t think that you have tired me, John,” Marion replied. “You have +no idea how happy you have made me by telling me all this.” + +No longer did they have time for further conversation, as steps sounded +outside, and Hugo and the doctor entered, with Zell following close +behind. By their quiet manner and sober faces it was easy to tell how +deeply they had been affected by the service they had just attended. + +“We have done all we can,” the doctor remarked as he sat down somewhat +wearily in a chair near the stove. “I have attended many funerals in my +life, but none ever appealed to me like the one I have just witnessed. +It was the grandest of them all. As I stood there watching the Indians +fill in the grave, I thought of Stevenson’s touching words: + + “‘Under the wide and starry sky + Dig my grave and let me lie. + Glad did I live and gladly die, + And I lay me down with a will. + Home is the sailor, home from the sea, + And the hunter is home from the hill.’” + +“You can quote poetry as neatly as Rolfe,” the sergeant remarked. “You +two are well mated. He should be here to cap your verse.” + +“No doubt he could do it better, sergeant, for I understand he is +filled with poetry. That piece I quoted is about all I remember, and it +seems suitable to the death of that grand old man.” + +As the afternoon was now well advanced, Marion and Zell began to +prepare supper. When the meal was ready and all gathered at the table, +the constable arrived. He looked very tired and worn, but quite +cheerful. + +“My, I’m glad to be out of hearing of that maniac,” he remarked, as he +removed his cap and outer coat. “He’s getting worse all the time, and +the swelling in his leg is very bad. I believe it will finish him.” + +“Is he well guarded?” the sergeant asked. + +“Yes. Several Indians are looking after him.” + +“What are you going to do with him?” Hugo enquired. + +“Take him to Kynox,” the sergeant replied. “It will be a hard and +disagreeable trip. But Rolfe will take several Indians along. You +must get away early in the morning, Tom,” he reminded, turning to the +constable. “Get everything ready to-night.” + +“I have made all preparations, sergeant, and have secured a fine team +of dogs. We shall travel fast.” + +“Suppose you take my team, sergeant, while I go with Tom,” the doctor +suggested. “I am in a hurry, too, and the madman might need special +attention on the way. There is little I can do, I am well aware, but +then one never knows. The rest of you can travel more leisurely.” + +“Are we to close up this house, and leave it just as it is?” Marion +asked. “What a pity there is no one to take the missionary’s place and +continue his work.” + +“Oh, there will be some one ready to come, never fear,” the sergeant +replied. “I shall notify the Bishop and most likely he will send a man +here. We need not worry about that just now. The Indians will remain +loyal, I feel quite certain. They have been taught a severe lesson.” + +All through the day Hugo had been very quiet, speaking seldom, and +apparently wrapped in serious thought. But that night as they all +gathered around the stove, he filled, lighted his pipe, and looked upon +the little group. + +“I suppose this will be the last night we shall spend together for +some time,” he began. “Zell will marry Tim and live outside, so her +lot in life will be settled. The doctor will still carry on his good +work among the needy, and will win more jewels in his crown. Rolfe will +develop into a full-fledged poet. Not likely he hears what I am saying, +as he is so busy writing--a masterpiece, no doubt. Now, that leaves +three of us, and what are we to do?” + +“Two will get married as soon as they can, if I am not mistaken,” the +doctor replied with a twinkle in his eye. + +“Oh, not for some time yet,” Marion declared. “At least, not until John +leaves the Force.” + +“And when will that be?” Hugo enquired. + +“Next May,” the sergeant replied. “My time will be up then, and I am +going to leave. I am getting tired of this roving life, and have been +at it too long already. I should have left years ago.” + +“Next May, eh? Well, that will suit fine,” and Hugo blew a cloud of +smoke into the air. “Now, what are you going to do then?” + +“I have not the least idea. Go outside, I suppose, and begin all over +again. The outlook is not very bright, I assure you.” + +“And having a wife will make it all the more difficult, eh?” + +“Perhaps so. But something will turn up.” + +“Now, suppose something should turn up here before you go out, how +would that suit you?” + +“Very well, indeed. But what do you mean?” + +“How would you like to do some mining?” + +“Not on your life, unless I can strike something rich. I do not feel +inclined to spend the rest of my days following the will o’ wisp of +gold. I have seen too much of it. Why, there are many men wandering +about this country hoping and hoping in vain for a rich find.” + +“But suppose the gold is already found, what then?” + +“That would make a big difference.” + +“Certainly it would, and that’s why I have mentioned it. Now listen. I +know where there is gold, plenty of it. I struck it rich several years +ago in a creek away to the south of us, and I am the only one who knows +where it is.” + +“You did!” The sergeant as well as all the others were keenly +interested now. Even Rolfe paused in his writing to listen. + +“Yes, I struck it rich,” Hugo repeated, “but never intended to make use +of it. I never expected to have any need of it, and did not report my +discovery. During those years when I thought that I was being followed +by the Police I was very vindictive and gloated over the thought that +I knew where there was gold, and it was known to me alone. At times I +longed to tell some poor unfortunate devils where it was, but I knew +that others would reap the benefit, so I said nothing. Perhaps it was +just as well, otherwise we would not have it to look forward to now.” + +“Where is this creek of which you speak?” the sergeant asked. + +“That must remain a secret until we are ready to begin work,” Hugo +replied with a smile. “There are several of us here, and it might +unintentionally leak out. But the gold is there, and it will keep a +while longer. I have samples of it in one of my cabins which I shall +show you some day. When the time is ripe, I shall notify you all here, +even Marion and Zell, so we can all get in on the ground floor.” + +“May I have a hand in it, too?” the doctor asked. + +“Sure. We shall need a doctor along, and you shall have your share. +Then when we get the gold we can either do the mining ourselves, or +sell out. There will be no trouble about that.” + +“Do you think you could live in any other country but this, father?” +Marion questioned. + +“Just give me a chance, my dear, and you will see how soon I shall hike +outside. I have several old scores to settle there which money alone +can accomplish. I have been shamefully treated, and never wanted to +square up until recently. Oh, yes, I shall make a sensation some day in +the smug business world, and money alone can do it. But that’s another +secret which must remain with me until the right time. There, now, I +think I have told you enough for one night. Henceforth I shall be no +longer Hugo, the trapper, but ‘Hugo, the miner.’ How does that sound?” + +“Very good,” the sergeant replied. “But before you go to bed you +must listen to what Rolfe has written. He has finished his poem of +inspiration and is waiting to read it. Come on, Tom, and get through +with it.” + +“It isn’t much,” the constable replied, “but merely a sample of what +I shall do when I get time. These are just a few hurried thoughts I +have been turning over in my mind ever since I came to The Gap and saw +the old missionary standing bravely at his post of duty. It applies +not only to him but to others of his kind. Later I shall lick the +verses into proper shape. I have called this poem ‘Across the Marches,’ +suggested by some words I read in an old paper which I happened to +pick up in this very house. It was a report of an address given by the +Archbishop of Canterbury to a number of missionaries leaving for their +distant fields of work. ‘We from across the Marches stand by you in +your great endeavours,’ he said. Those words appealed to me. This is +what I have written as my humble tribute: + + “Where the land lies dumb in winter, and the mountain trail is steep, + Where the frost bites like hot iron, and the snow-shoes gall the + feet; + Where the wind rips down the valley with its deadly, hurtling sting, + And the snow drifts like long breakers in its blinding, maddening + fling, + There across the great lone Marches press the Heralds of the King.” + + “Where the frontier shelves to vagueness, and the trails lead God + knows where, + Where the Great Lights hurl their magic through the twanging midnight + air, + There they grope and there they falter, sweeping plain and crested + dome, + Holy Ordered, sturdy cruisers, bringing light where’er they roam, + Heartened far across the Marches by the Church of God at Home.” + + “There they lead and there they battle, there the ranks are thinned + and wan, + But they lift aloft the Banner, and the few still stagger on; + On, with faces white and weary, on, the tide of night to stem; + On, for precious soul-wrought jewels for the Master’s diadem; + Church of Christ, across the Marches, lift your pleading prayers for + them.” + +Slowly Rolfe folded the paper when he had finished, and thrust it into +an inside pocket. There was silence for a few minutes, and then Hugo +reached out his big right hand. + +“Put it there, young man,” he said. “I congratulate you for those +words. You have struck the right note, eh, sergeant, don’t you think +so?” + +“I do,” was the quiet reply. “Tom, I believe you will make a poet yet +if you keep at it.” + +“He is a poet now,” Marion declared. “I enjoyed that poem very much, +and you will let me have a copy of it, will you not, Mr. Rolfe?” + +“Why, yes, Miss Brisbane, I shall be delighted to do so. But suppose +you wait until I publish my first book of poems. I shall dedicate it to +you if you will let me, and I shall include this poem in the volume.” + +That night Marion and the sergeant sat long together after the others +had gone to rest. There were many things they talked about in low +voices, and wonderful were the plans they formed for the future. They +were seated side by side near the stove, their eyes bright and their +hearts filled with joy and contentment. + +“It is very wonderful how everything has turned out all right at the +last,” Marion whispered. “This northland will always be very dear to +me. It was here I found my long-lost father, and you.” + +“And wonderful things are still ahead, let us hope,” the sergeant +replied. “It seems to me that Another has been guiding and leading us +together. And may He who has guided us still continue to guide over +that long, long trail which lies beyond.” + +He bent his head and his lips met hers in one ravishing kiss of +enduring love. + + +THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: + + + Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. + + Perceived typographical errors have been corrected. + + Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. + + Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77231 *** |