PARDNERS

by

REX E. BEACH

Author of "The Barrier, " "The Spoilers"

Illustrated

1904

CONTENTS

PARDNERSTHE MULE DRIVER, AND THE GARRULOUS MUTETHE COLONEL AND THE HORSE-THIEFTHE THAW AT SLISCO'SBITTER ROOT BILLINGS, ARBITERTHE SHYNESS OF SHORTYTHE TESTNORTH OF FIFTY-THREEWHERE NORTHERN LIGHTS COME DOWN O' NIGHTSTHE SCOURGE

PARDNERS

"Most all the old quotations need fixing, " said Joyce in tonesforbidding dispute. "For instance, the guy that alluded to marriagesgerminating in heaven certainly got off on the wrong foot. He meantpardnerships. The same works ain't got capacity for both, no more'nyou can build a split-second stop-watch in a stone quarry. No, sir!A true pardnership is the sanctifiedest relation that grows, is, andhas its beans, while any two folks of opposite sect can marry and pegthe game out some way. Of course, all pardnerships ain't divine. Toevery one that's heaven borned there's a thousand made in ----. There goes them cussed dogs again!"

He dove abruptly at the tent flap, disappearing like a palmed coin, while our canvas structure reeled drunkenly at his impact. Thesounds of strife without rose shrilly into blended agony, and theyelps of Keno melted away down the gulch in a rapid and rabiddiminuendo. 

Inasmuch as I had just packed out from camp in a loose pair of rubberboots, and was nursing two gall blisters, I did not feel called uponto emulate this energy of arbitration, particularly in bare feet. 

"That black malamoot is a walking delegate for strife, " he remarked, returning. "Sometime I'll lose my temper--and that's the kind ofpardners me and Justus Morrow was. "

Never more do I interrupt the allegory of my mate, no matter howstartling its structure. He adventures orally when and in the mannerthe spirit calls, without rote, form, or tone production. ThereforeI kicked my blistered heels in the air and grunted aimlessencouragement. 

"I was prospectin' a claim on Caribou Creek, and had her punched asfull of holes as a sponge cake, when the necessity of a changeappealed to me. I was out of everything more nourishing than hopeand one slab of pay-streaked bacon, when two tenderfeet 'mushed' upthe gulch, and invited themselves into my cabin to watch me pan. It's the simplest thing known to science to salt a tenderfoot, so Ididn't have no trouble in selling out for three thousand dollars. 

"You see, they couldn't kick, 'cause some of us 'old timers' wasbound to get their money anyhow--just a question of time; and theirinexperience was cheap at the price. Also, they was real nice boys, and I hated to see 'em fall amongst them crooks at Dawson. It was ashort-horned triumph, though. Like the Dead Sea biscuits ofScripture, it turned to ashes in my mouth. It wasn't three dayslater that they struck it; right in my last shaft, within a foot ofwhere I quit diggin'. They rocked out fifty ounces first day. Whenthe news filtered to me, of course, I never made no holler. Icouldn't--that is, honestly--but I bought a six hundred dollar grubstake, loaded it aboard a dory, and--having instructed the traderregarding the disposition of my mortal, drunken remains, I fannedthrough that camp like a prairie fire shot in the sirloin with a hotwind. 

"Of course, it wasn't such a big spree; nothing gaudy or Swedelike;but them that should know, claimed it was a model of refinement. Yes, I have got many encomiums on its general proportions andartistic finish. One hundred dollars an hour for twenty-four hours, all in red licker, confined to and in me and my choicestsympathizers. I reckon all our booze combined would have made a fairsluice-head. Anyhow, I woke up considerable farther down the dimvistas of time and about the same distance down the Yukon, in thebottom of my dory, seekin' new fields at six miles an hour. Thetrader had follered my last will and testament scrupulous, even tocoverin' up my legs. 

"That's how I drifted into Rampart City, and Justus Morrow. 

"This here town was the same as any new camp; a mile long andeighteen inches wide, consisting of saloons, dance-halls, saloons, trading-posts, saloons, places to get licker, and saloons. Might nothave been so many dancehalls and trading-posts as I've mentioned, anda few more saloons. 

"I dropped into a joint called The Reception, and who'd I see playing'bank' but 'Single Out' Wilmer, the worst gambler on the river. Mounted police had him on the woodpile in Dawson, then tied a can onhim. At the same table was a nice, tender Philadelphia squab, 'boutfryin' size, and while I was watching, Wilmer pulls down a betbelonging to it. That's an old game. 

"'Pardon me, ' says the broiler; 'you have my checks. '

"'What?' growls 'Single Out;' 'I knowed this game before you quitnursin', Bright Eyes. I can protect my own bets. '

"'That's right, ' chimes the dealer, who I seen was 'Curly' Budd, Wilmer's pardner. 

"'Lord!' thinks I, 'there's a pair to draw to. '

"'Do you really think you had ought to play this? It's a man'sgame, ' says Wilmer nasty. 

"I expected to see the youngster dog it. Nothin' of the kind. 

"'That's my bet!' he says again, and I noticed something dry in hisvoice, like the rustle of silk. 

"Single Out just looks black and snarls at the dealer. 

"'Turn the cards!'

"'Oh, very well, ' says the chechako, talking like a little girl. 

"Somebody snickered and, thinks I 'there's sprightly doin'shereabouts. I'll tarry a while and see 'em singe the fowl. I likethe smell of burning pin feathers; it clears my head. '

"Over in the far corner was another animal in knee panties, riggin'up one of these flash-light, snappy-shot, photograft layouts. Ifound afterwards that he done it for a living; didn't work none, juststrayed around as co-respondent for an English newspaper syndicate, taking pictures and writing story things. I didn't pay muchattention to him hiding under his black cloth, 'cause the faro-tablewas full of bets, and it's hard to follow the play. Well, bye-and-bye Wilmer shifted another stack belonging to the Easterner. 

"The lad never begged his pardon nor nothin'. His fist just shot outand landed on the nigh corner of Wilmer's jaw, clean and fair, and'Single Out' done as pretty a headspin as I ever see--consideringthat it was executed in a cuspidore. 'Twas my first insight into theamenities of football. I'd like to see a whole game of it. They sayit lasts an hour and a half. Of all the cordial, why-how-do-you-domule kicks handed down in rhyme and story, that wallop was theadopted daddy. 

"When he struck, I took the end of the bar like a steeplechaser, forI seen 'Curly' grab at the drawer, and I have aversions to witnessinggun plays from the front end. The tenderfoot riz up in his chair, and snatchin' a stack of reds in his off mit, dashed 'em into'Curly's' face just as he pulled trigger. It spoiled his aim, andthe boy was on to him like a mountain lion, follerin' over the table, along the line of least resistance. 

"It was like takin' a candy sucker from a baby. 'Curly' let go ofthat 'six' like he was plumb tired of it, and the kid welted him overthe ear just oncet. Then he turned on the room; and right there myheart went out to him. He took in the line up at a sweep of hislamps:

"'Any of you gentlemen got ideas on the subject?' he says, and hiseyes danced like waves in the sunshine. 

"It was all that finished and genteel that I speaks up withoutthinkin', 'You for me pardner!'

"Just as I said it, there come a swish and flash as if a kag of blackpowder had changed its state of bein'. I s'pose everybody yelled anddodged except the picture man. He says, 'Thank you, gents; verypretty tableau. '

"It was the first flash-light I ever see, and all I recall now is apanorama of starin' eyeballs and gaping mouths. When it seen itwasn't torpedoed, the population begin crawlin' out from under chairsand tables. Men hopped out like toads in a rain. 

"I crossed the boy's trail later that evening; found him watchin' adance at the Gold Belt. The photografter was there, too, and whenhe'd got his dog-house fixed, he says:

"'Everybody take pardners, and whoop her up. I want this picture forthe _Weekly_. Get busy, you, there!" We all joined in to helpthings; the orchestra hit the rough spots, and we went highfalutin'down the centre, to show the English race how our joy pained us, andthat life in the Klondyke had the Newport whirl, looking like societyin a Siwash village. He got another good picture. 

"Inside of a week, Morrow and I had joined up. We leased a claim andhad our cabin done, waiting for snow to fall so's to sled our grubout to the creek. He took to me like I did to him, and he was aneducated lad, too. Somehow, though, it hadn't gone to his head, leaving his hands useless, like knowledge usually does. 

"One day, just before the last boat pulled down river, Mr. Struthers, the picture man, come to us--R. Alonzo Struthers, of London and'Frisco, he was--and showin' us a picture, he says:

"'Ain't that great? Sunday supplements! Full page! Big display!eh?'

"It sure was. 'Bout 9x9, and showing every detail of the Receptionsaloon. There was 'Single Out' analyzing the cuspidore and 'Curly'dozin', as contorted and well-done as a pretzel. There was the crowdhiding in the corners, and behind the faro-table stood the kid, onehand among the scattered chips and cards, the other dominating thelayout with 'Curley's' 'six. ' It couldn't have looked more naturalif we'd posed for it. It was a bully likeness, I thought, too, tillI seen myself glaring over the bar. All that showed of William P. Joyce, bachelor of some arts and plenty of science, late of Dawson, was the white of his eyes. And talkin' of white--say, I looked likeI had washing hung out. Seemed like the draught had riz my hair up, too. 

"'Nothing like it ever seen, ' continues Struthers. 'I'll call it'The Winning Card, ' or 'At Bay, ' or something like that. Feature itas a typical Klondyke card game. I'll give you a two-page write-up. Why, it's the greatest thing I ever did!'

"'I'm sorry, ' says Morrow, thoughtful, 'but you musn't run it. '

"'What! says he, and I thinks, 'Oh, Lord! There goes my only show toget perpetufied in ink. '

"'I can't let you use it. My wife might see it. '

"'Your wife!' says I. 'Are you married, pardner?'

"'Yes, I'm married, ' and his voice sounded queer. 'I've got aboy--too, see. '

"He took a locket from his flannel shirt and opened it. Acurly-headed, dimpled little youngster laughed out at me. 

"'Well, I'm d----!' and then I took off my hat, for in the other sidewas a woman--and, gentlemen, she _was_ a woman! When I seen her itmade me feel blushy and ashamed. Gee! She was a stunner. I juststared at her till Struthers looked over my shoulder, and says, excited:

"'Why, it's Olive Troop, the singer!'

"'Not any more, ' says Morrow, smiling. 

"'Oh! So you're the fellow she gave up her art for? I knew her onthe stage. '

"Something way deep down in the man grated on me, but the kid waslookin' at the picture and never noticed, while hunger peered fromhis face. 

"'You can't blame me, ' he says finally. 'She'd worry to death if shesaw that picture. The likeness is too good. You might substituteanother face on my shoulders; that can be done, can't it?'

"'Why, sure; dead easy, but I'll not run it at all if you feel thatway, ' says the artist. 

"Then, Morrow resumes, 'You'll be in Denver this fall, Struthers, eh?Well, I want you to take a letter to her. She'll be glad to see anold friend like you, and to hear from me. Tell her I'm well andhappy, and that I'll make a fortune, sure. Tell her, too, that therewon't be any mail out of here till spring. '

"Now, I don't claim no second sight in the matter of female features:I ain't had no coachin'; not even as much as the ordinary, beingraised on a bottle, but I've studied the ornery imprints of men'sthoughts, over green tables and gun bar'ls, till I can about guesswhether they've drawed four aces or an invite to a funeral. I gotanother flash from that man I didn't like, though his words werehearty. He left, soon after, on the last boat. 

"Soon as ever the ground froze we began to sink. In those days steamthawers wasn't dreamed of, so we slid wood down from the hills, andburned the ground with fires. It's slow work, and we didn't catchbed-rock till December, but when we did we struck it right. Fourfeet of ten-cent dirt was what she averaged. Big? Well, I wonder!It near drove Morrow crazy. 

"'Billy, old boy, this means I'll see her next summer!'

"Whenever he mentioned her name, he spoke like a man in church or outof breath. Somehow it made me feel like takin' off my cap--fortybelow at that, and my ears freeze terrible willing since that winteron the Porcupine. 

"That evening, when I wasn't looking, he sneaked the locket out ofhis shirt and stared at it, famished. Then he kissed it, if youmight rehabilitate such a scandalous, hold-fast-for-the-cornerperformance by that name. 

"'I must let her know right away, ' says he. 'How can I do it?'

"'We can hire a messenger, and send him to Dawson, ' says I. 'Everybody in camp will pay five dollars a letter, and he can bringback the outside mail. They have monthly service from there to thecoast. He'll make the trip in ninety days, so you'll get news fromhome by the first of March. Windy Jim will go. He'd leave a goodjob and a warm camp any time to hit the trail. Just hitch up thedogs, crack a whip, and yell 'Mush on!' and he'll get the snow-shoeitch, and water at the mouth for hardship. '

"Not being house-broke and tame myself, I ain't authority on the joysof getting mail from home, but, next to it, I judge, comes writing toyour family. Anyhow, the boy shined up like new money, and there wasfrom one to four million pages in his hurried note. I don't mean tosay that he was grouchy at any time. No, sir! He was thenickel-plated sunbeam of the whole creek. Why, I've knowed him to dothe cooking for two weeks at a stretch, and never kick--and _wash thedishes, too_, --which last, as anybody knows, is crucifyin'er thanthat smelter test of the three Jews in the Scripture. Underneath allof his sunshine, though, I saw hints of an awful, aching, devilish, starvation. It made me near hate the woman that caused it. 

"He was a wise one, too. I've seen him stirring dog-feed with onehand and spouting 'Gray's Elegy' with the other. I picked up a heapof knowledge from him, for he had American history pat. One story Iliked particular was concerning the origin of placer mining in thiscountry, about a Greaser, Jason Somebody, who got the gold fever andgrub-staked a mob he called the Augerknots--carpenters, I judge, fromthe mess they made of it. They chartered a schooner and prospectedalong Asy Miner, wherever that is. I never seen any boys from there, but the formation was wrong, like Texas, probably, 'cause they sortof drifted into the sheep business. Of course, that was a long waysback, before the '49 rush, but the way he told it was great. 

"Well, two weeks after Windy left we worked out of that rich spot anddrifted into barren ground. Instead of a fortune, we'd sunk onto theonly yellow spot in the whole claim. We cross-cut in three places, and never raised a colour, but we kept gophering around till March, in hopes. 

"'Why did I write that letter?' he asked one day. 'I'd give anythingto stop it before it gets out. Think of her disappointment when shehears I'm broke!'

"'Nobody can't look into the ground, ' says I. 'I don't mind losin'out myself, for I've done it for twenty years and I sort of like itnow, but I'm sorry for the girl. '

"'It means another whole season, ' he says. 'I wanted to see themthis summer, or bring them in next fall. '

"'Sufferin' sluice-boxes! Are you plumb daffy? Bring a woman intothe Yukon--and a little baby. '

"'She'd follow me anywhere. She's awful proud; proud as a Kentuckygirl can be, and those people would make your uncle Lucifer look likea cringing cripple, but she'd live in an Indian hut with me. '

"'Sure! And follerin' out the simile, nobody but a Siwash would lether. If she don't like some other feller better while you're gone, what're you scared about?'

"He never answered; just looked at me pityfyin', as much as to say, 'Well, you poor, drivelin, old polyp!'

"One day Denny, the squaw-man, drove up the creek:

"'Windy Jim is back with the mail, ' says he, and we hit for camp onthe run. Only fifteen mile, she is, but I was all in when we gotthere, keepin' up with Justus. His eyes outshone the snow-glitterand he sang--all the time he wasn't roasting me for being soslow--claimed I was active as a toad-stool. A man ain't got nolicense to excite hisself unless he's struck pay dirt--or got adivorce. 

"'Gi'me my mail, quick!' he says to Windy, who had tinkered up aone-night stand post-office and dealt out letters, at five dollarsper let. '

"'Nothing doing, ' says Windy. 

"'Oh, yes there is, ' he replies, still smiling; 'she writes me everyweek. '

"'I got all there was at Dawson, ' Windy give back, 'and there ain't athing for you!'

"I consider the tragedy of this north country lies in its mailservice. Uncle Sam institutes rural deliveries, so the bolomen canregister poisoned arrowheads to the Igorrotes in exchange for recipesto make roulade of naval officer, but his American miners in Alaskago shy on home news for eight months every year. 

"That was the last mail we had till June. 

"When the river broke we cleaned up one hundred and eighty-sevendollars' worth of lovely, yellow dust, and seven hundred andthirty-five dollars in beautiful yellow bills from the post. 

"The first boat down from Dawson brought mail, and I stood beside himwhen he got his. He shook so he held on to the purser's window. Instead of a stack of squares overrun with female chiropody, therewas only one for him--a long, hungry sport, with indications of a lawfirm in the northwest corner. It charmed him like a rattler. Heseemed scared to open it. Two or three times he tried and stopped. 

"'They're dead, ' thinks I; and, sure enough, when he'd looked, I knewit was so, and felt for his hand. Sympathy don't travel by word ofmouth between pardners. It's the grip of the hand or the look of theeye. 

"'What cause?' says I. 

"He turned, and s'help me, I never want to see the like again. Hisface was plumb grey and dead, like wet ashes, while his eyes scorchedthrough, all dry and hot. Lines was sinkin' into it as I looked. 

"'It's worse, ' says he, 'unless it's a joke. ' He handed me the dope:'In re Olive Troop Morrow _vs_. Justus Morrow, ' and a letter statingthat out of regard for her feelings, and bein' a gentleman, he wasn'texpected to cause a scandal, but to let her get the divorce bydefault. No explanation; no word from her; nothing. 

"God knows what that boy suffered the next few weeks, but he foughtit out alone. She was proud, but he was prouder. Her silence hurthim the worst, of course; but what could he do? Go to her? Fine!Both of us broke and in debt. Also, there's such a thing as diggin'deep enough to scrape the varnish off of a man's self-respect, leavin' it raw and shrinking. No! He done like you or me--let herhave her way. He took off the locket and hid it, and I never heardher name mentioned for a year. 

"I'd been up creek for a whip-saw one day, and as I came back I heardvoices in the cabin. 'Some musher out from town, ' thinks I, tillsomething in their tones made me stop in my tracks. 

"I could hear the boy's voice, hoarse and throbbing, as though hedragged words out bleeding, then I heard the other one laugh--anasty, sneering laugh that ended in a choking rattle, like a noosehad tightened on his throat. 

"I jumped for the door, and rounding the corner, something near tookme off my feet; something that shot through the air, all pretty andknickerbockery, with a two-faced cap, and nice brown leggin's. Also, a little camera was harnessed to it by tugs. It arose, displayingthe face of R. Alonzo Struthers, black and swollen, with chipsstickin' in it where he'd hit the woodpile. He glared at Morrow, andhis lips foamed like a crab out of water. 

"'I hope I'm not intrudin', I ventures. 

"When the kid seen me, he says, soft and weak, like something ailedhis palate:

"'Don't let me kill him, Billy. '"

[Illustration: "Don't let me kill him, Billy. "]

"Struthers spit, and picked splinters forth from his complexion. 

"'I told you for your own good. It's common gossip, ' says he. 'Everybody is laughing at you, an--'

"Then I done a leap for life for the kid, 'cause the murder lightblazed up white in his face, and he moved at the man like he hadsomething serious in view. 

"'Run, you idiot!' I yells to Struthers as I jammed the youngsterback into the cabin. All of a sudden the gas went out of him and hebroke, hanging to me like a baby. 

"'It can't be, ' he whispers. 'It can't be. ' He throwed hisself onto a goods' box, and buried his face in his hands. It gripes me tohear a man cry, so I went to the creek for a pail of water. 

"I never heard what Struthers said, but it don't take no Nick Carterto guess. 

"That was the fall of the Fryin' Pan strike--do you mind it?Shakespeare George put us on, so me and the kid got in ahead of thestampede. We located one and two above discovery, and by Christmaswe had a streak uncovered that was all gold. She was coarse, and weaveraged six ounces a day in pick-ups. Man, that _was_ ground! I'veflashed my candle along the drift face, where it looked like gold hadbeen shot in with a scatter-gun. 

"We was cleaned up and had our 'pokes' at the post when the firstboat from Dawson smoked 'round the bend. 

"Now, in them days, a man's averdupoise was his abstract of title. There was nothing said about records and patentees as long as youworked your ground; but, likewise, when you didn't work it, somebodyelse usually did. We had a thousand feet of as good dirt as everlaid out in the rain; but there was men around drulin' to snipe it, and I knowed it was risky to leave. However, I saw what was gnawin'at the boy, and if ever a man needed a friend and criminal lawyer, that was the time. According to the zodiac, certain persons, to thecomplainant unknown, had a mess of trouble comin' up and I wanted tohave the bail money handy. 

"We jumped camp together. I made oration to the general gnat-bittenpopulace, from the gang-plank, to the effect that one William P. Joyce, trap, crap, and snap shooter was due to happen back casualmost any time, and any lady or gent desirous of witnessing at firsthand, a shutzenfest with live targets, could be gratified byinfestin' in person or by proxy, the lands, tenements, andhereditaments of me and the kid. 

"'Well, we hit the Seattle docks at a canter, him headed for thepostal telegraph, me for a fruit-stand. I bought a dollar's worth ofeverything, from cracker-jack to cantaloupe, reserving the localoption of eatin' it there in whole or in part, and returning formore. First fresh fruit in three years. I reckon my proudest hourcome when I found, beyond peradventure, that I hadn't forgot the'Georgy Grind. ' What? 'Georgy Grind' consists of feedingrough-hewed slabs of watermelon into your sou' sou'east corner, andsquirting a stream of seeds out from the other cardinal points, without stopping or strangling. 

"I et and et, and then wallered up to the hotel, sweatin' a differentkind of fruit juice from every pore. Not wishing to play anyfavourites, I'd picked up a basket of tomatoes, a gunny-sack ofpineapples, and a peck of green plums on the way. Them plums donethe business. I'd orter let bad enough alone. They was non-union, and I begin having trouble with my inside help. Morrow turned in ahurry-up call for the Red Cross, two medical colleges, and theSociety of Psycolic Research. Between 'em they diagnosed me ascontaining everything from 'housemaid's knee' to homesickness of thevital organs, but I _know_. I swallered a plum pit, and it sprouted. 

"Next day, when I come out of it, Justus had heard from Denver. Hiswife had been gone a year, destination unknown. Somebody thought shewent to California, so, two days later, we registered at the Palace, and the 'Frisco police begin dreaming of five thousand dollar rewards. 

"It was no use, though. One day I met Struthers on Market Street, and he was scared stiff to hear that Morrow was in town. It seems hewas night editor of one of the big dailies. 

"'Do you know where the girl is?' says I. 

"'Yes, she's in New York, ' he answers, looking queer, so I hurriedback to the hotel. 

"As I was explaining to Morrow, a woman passed us in the hall with alittle boy. In the dimness, the lad mistook Justus. 

"'Oh, papa, papa!" he yells, and grabs him by the knees, laughing andkicking. 

"'Ah-h!' my pardner sighs, hoarse as a raven, and quicker'n light hesnatched the little shaver to him, then seeing his mistake, droppedhim rough. His face went grey again, and he got wabbly at thehinges, so I helped him into the parlour. He had that hungry, Yukonlook, and breathed like he was wounded. 

"'You come with me, ' says I, 'and get your mind off of things. Theeastern limited don't leave till midnight. Us to the theatre!'

"It was a swell tepee, all right. Variety house, with movingpictures, and actorbats, and two-ton soubrettes, with Barriosdiamonds and hand-painted socks. 

"First good show I'd seen in three years, and naturally humour brokeout all over me. When joy spreads its wings in my vitals, I soundlike a boy with a stick running past a picket-fence. Not so Morrow. He slopped over the sides of his seat, like he'd been spilled intothe house. 

"Right after the sea-lions, the orchestra spieled some teetery music, and out floats a woman, slim and graceful as an antelope. She had abig pay-dump of brown hair, piled up on her hurricane deck, with eyesthat snapped and crinkled at the corners. She single-footed in likea derby colt, and the somnambulists in the front row begin to showcause. Something about her startled me, so I nudged the kid, but hewas chin-deep in the plush, with his eyes closed. I marked howdrawed and haggard he looked; and then, of a sudden he raised half onto his feet. The girl had begun to sing. Her voice was rich andlow, and full of deep, still places, like a mountain stream. ButMorrow! He sunk his fingers into me, and leaned for'rad, starin' asthough Paradise had opened for him, while the sweat on his face shonelike diamond chips. 

"It was the girl of the locket, all right, on the stage again--invaudeville. 

"Her song bubbled along, rippling over sandy, sunlit gravel bars, andslidin' out through shadowy trout pools beneath the cool, alderthickets, and all the time my pardner sat burning his soul in hiseyes, his breath achin' out through his throat. Incidental, hisdigits was knuckle-deep into the muscular tissue of William P. , thegent to the right. 

"When she quit, I had to jam him back. 

"For an encore she sang a reg'lar American song, with music to it. When she reached the chorus she stopped. Then away up in the balconysounded the tiny treble of a boy's soprano, sweet as the ring ofsilver. The audience turned, to a man, and we seen, perched amongthe newsboys, the littlest, golden-haired youngster, 'bout the sizeof your thumb, his eyes glued to the face of his mother on the stagebelow, pourin' out his lark song, serious and frightened. Twice hedone it, while by main stren'th I held his father to the enjoymentsof a two-dollar orchestra chair. 

"'Let us in, ' we says, three minutes later, to the stranger at thestage door, but he looked upon us with unwelcome, like theseven-headed hydrant of Holy Writ. 

"'It's agin' the rules, ' says he. 'You kin wait in the alley withthe other Johnnies. '

"I ain't acclimated to the cold disfavour of a stage door, neverhaving soubretted along the bird and bottle route. I was for thelayin' on of hands. Moreover, I didn't like the company we was in, 'Johnnies, ' by designations of the Irish terrier at the wicket. Theysmoked ready-made cigarettes, and some of 'em must have measured fulleight inches acrost the chest. 

"'Let us stroll gently but firmly into, over, and past the remains ofthis party, to the missus, ' says I, but Morrow got seized with theshakes, of a sudden. 

"'No, no. We'll wait here. '

"At last she come out, steppin' high. When she moved she rustled andrattled like she wore sandpaper at the ankles. 

"Say, she was royal! She carried the youngster in her arms, soundasleep, and it wasn't till she stepped under the gaslight that sheseen us. 

"'Oh!' she cried, and went white as the lace of her cloak. Then shehugged the kiddie clost to her, standing straight and queenly, hereyes ablaze, her lips moist, and red, and scornful. 

"God, she was grand--but him? He looked like a barnacle. 

"'Olive!' says he, bull-froggy, and that's all. Just quit like a dogand ate her up by long-distance eyesight. Lord! Nobody would haveknowed him for the same man that called the crookedest gamblers onthe Yukon, and bolted newspaper men raw. He had ingrowing language. It oozed out through his pores till he dreened like a harvest hand. I'd have had her in my arms in two winks, so that all hell and apoliceman couldn't have busted my holt till she'd said she loved me. 

"She shrivelled him with a look, the likes of which ain't strayedover the Mason-Dixon line since Lee surrendered, and swept by us, invitin' an' horspitable as an iceberg in a cross sea. Her cab doorslammed, and I yanked Morrow out of there, more dead than alive. 

"'Let me go home, ' says he wearily. 

"'You bet!' I snorts. 'It's time you was tucked in. The dew isfallin' and some rude person might accost you. You big slob!There's a man's work to do to-night, and as I don't seem to have nocompetition in holding the title, I s'pose it's my lead. ' I throwedhim into a carriage. 'You'd best put on your nighty, and have themaid turn down your light. Sweet dreams, Gussie!' I was plumb soreon him. History don't record no divorce suits in the Stone Age, whena domestic inclined man allus toted a white-oak billy, studded withwire nails, according to the pictures, and didn't scruple to use it, both at home and abroad. Women was hairy, them days, and harder tomake love, honour and obey; but principles is undyin'. 

"I boarded another cab:

"'Drive me to number ----, ' giving him the address I'd heard her use. 

"'Who is it, ' came her voice when I rang the bell. 

"'Messenger boy, ' I replies, perjuring my vocal cords. 

"When she opened the door, I pushed through and closed it behind me. 

"'What does this mean?' she cried. 'Help!'

"'Shut up! It means you're killing the best boy in the world, and Iwant to know why. '

"'Who are you?'

"'I'm Bill Joyce, your husband's pardner. Old Tarantula Bill, thatdon't fear no man, woman, or child that roams the forest. I'm hereto find what ails you--'

"'Leave this house, sir!'

"'Well, not to any extent. You're a good girl; I knowed it when Ifirst seen your picture. Now, I want you to tell me--'

"'Insolent! Shall I call the police?' Her voice was icy, and shestood as solid as stone. 

"'Madam, I'm as gentle as a jellyfish, and peaceful to a fault, butif you raise a row before I finish my talk I'll claim noresponsibility over what occurs to the first eight or ten people thatintrudes, ' and I drawed my skinnin' knife, layin' it on the planner. 'Philanthropy is raging through my innards, and two loving heartsneed joining!'

"'I don't love him, ' she quotes, like a phonograft, ignoring mycutlery. 

"'I'll take exception to that ruling, ' and I picks up a picture ofJustus she'd dropped as I broke in. She never batted an eye. 

"'I nursed that lad through brain fever, when all he could utter wasyour name. '

"'Has he been sick?' The first sign of spring lit up her peaks. 

"'Most dead. Notice of the divorce done it. He's in bad shape yet. 'Morrow never had a sick day in his life, but I stomped both feet onthe soft pedal, and pulled out the tremulo stop. 

"'Oh! Oh!' Her voice was soft, though she still stood like a birch. 

"'Little girl, ' I laid a hand on her shoulder. 'We both love thatboy. Come, now, what is the matter?'

"She flashed up like powder. 

"'Matter? I thought he was a gentleman, even though he didn't loveme; that he had a shred of honour, at least. But no! He went toAlaska and made a fortune. Then he squandered it, drinking, fighting, gambling, and frittering it away on women. Bah! Lewdcreatures of the dance-halls, too. '

"'Hold up! Your dope sheet is way to the bad. There's somethingwrong with your libretto. Who told you all that?'

"'Never mind. I have proof. Look at these, and you dare to ask mewhy I left him?'

"She dragged out some pictures and throwed 'em at me. 

"'Ah! Why didn't I let the kid kill him?' says I, through my teeth. 

"The first was the gambling-room of the Reception. There stoodMorrow with the men under foot; there was the bottles and glasses;the chips and cards, and also the distressful spectacle of TarantulaBill Joyce, a number twelve man, all gleaming teeth, and rollingeyeballs, inserting hisself into a number nine opening, and doingsurprising well at it. 

"'Look at them. Look at them well, ' she gibed. 

"The second was the Gold-Belt dance-hall, with the kid cavortingthrough a drunken orgy of painted ladies, like a bull in a pansypatch. But the other--it took my breath away till I felt I was onsmooth ice, with cracks showing. It was the inside of a cabin, aftera big 'pot-latch, ' displaying a table littered up with fizz bottlesand dishes galore. Diamond Tooth Lou stood on a chair, waving kissesand spilling booze from a mug. In the centre stood Morrow withanother girl, nestling agin his boosum most horrible lovin'. Gee!It was a home splitter and it left me sparring for wind. The wholething exhaled an air of debauchery that would make a wooden Indianblush. No one thing in particular; just the general local colour ofa thousand-dollar bender. 

"'Charming, isn't it?' she sneered. 

"'I don't savvy the burro. There's something phony about it. I canexplain the other two, but this one--. ' Then it come to me in aflash. The man's face was perfect, but he wore knickerbockers! Now, to my personal knowledge, the only being that ever invaded RampartCity in them things was R. Alonzo Struthers. 

"'There's secrets of the dark-room that I ain't wise to, ' says I, 'but I feel that this is going to be a bad night for the newspaperenterprise of 'Frisco if it don't explain. I'll fetch the man thatbusted your Larrys and Peanuts. '

"'Our what?' says she. 

"'Larrys and Peanuts--that's Roman. The kid told me all about 'em. They're sort of little cheap gods!'

"'Will you ever go?' she snapped. 'I don't need your help. Tell himI hate him!' She stamped her foot, and the iron come into her againtill the pride of all Kentucky blazed in her eyes. 

"She couldn't understand my explanations no more than I could, so Iducked. As I backed out the door, though, I seen her crumple up andsettle all of a heap on the floor. She certainly did hate that manscandalous. 

"I'm glad some editors work nights. Struthers wasn't overjoyed at mycall, particular, as I strayed in with two janitors dangling from me. They said he was busy and couldn't be interrupted, and they seemed toinsist on it. '

"'It's a bully night, ' says I, by way of epigram, unhooking the pairof bouncers. "'You wouldn't like me to take you ridin' perhaps?'

"'Are you drunk, or crazy?' says he. 'What do you mean by breakinginto my office? I can't talk to you; we're just going to press. '

"'I'd like to stay and watch it, ' says I, 'but I've got a news itemfor you. ' At the same time I draws my skinner and lays it on theback of his neck, tempting. Steel, in the lamp-light, isdiscouraging to some temperaments. One of the body-guards was tookwith urgent business, and left a streamer of funny noises behind him, while the other gave autumn-leaf imitations in the corner. Strutherslooked like a dose of seasickness on a sour stomach. 

"Get your hat. Quick!' I jobbed him, gentle and encouraging. 

"Age allus commands respect. Therefore the sight of a six-foot, grizzled Klondiker in a wide hat, benevolently prodding the nighteditor in the short ribs and apple sauce, with eight bright andchilly inches, engendered a certain respect in the reportorial staff. 

"'You're going to tell Mrs. Morrow all about the pretty pictures, ' Isays, like a father. 

"'Let me go, damn you!' he frothed, but I wedged him into a corner ofthe cab and took off his collar--in strips. It interfered with hisbreathing, as I couldn't get a holt low enough to regulate hisrespiration. He kicked out two cab windows, but I bumped his headagin the woodwork, by way of repartee. It was a real pleasure, notto say recreation, experimenting with the noises he made. Seldom Iget a neck I give a cuss to squeeze. His was number fifteen atfirst, by the feel; but I reduced it a quarter size at a time. 

"When we got there I helped him out, one hand under his chin, theother back of his ears. I done it as much from regard of theneighbours as animosities to him, for it was the still, medium smallhours. I tiptoed in with my treatise on the infamies of photographygurgling under my hand, but at the door I stopped. It was ajar; andthere, under the light, I spied Morrow. In his arms I got glimpsesof black lace and wavy, brown hair, and a white cheek that he wasaccomplishing wonders with. They wouldn't have heard a man-holeexplosion. 

"'He's still fitting to be my pardner, ' I thinks, and then I heardStruthers's teeth chatter and grind. I looked at him, and the secretof the whole play came to me. 

"Never having known the divine passion, it ain't for me to judge, butI tightened on his voice-box and whispered:

"'You've outlived your period of usefulness, Struthers, and it's timeto go. Let us part friends, however. ' So I bade him Godspeed fromthe top step. 

"Looking back on the evening now, that adieu was my only mistake. Ilimped for a week--he had a bottle in his hip pocket. "

THE MULE DRIVER AND THE GARRULOUS MUTE

Bill had finished panning the concentrates from our last clean-up, and now the silver ball of amalgam sizzled and fried on the shovelover the little chip-fire, while we smoked in the sun before thecabin. Removed from the salivating fumes of the quicksilver, wewatched the yellow tint grow and brighten in the heat. 

"There's two diseases which the doctors ain't got any license tomonkey with, " began Bill, chewing out blue smoke from his lungs witheach word, "and they're both fevers. After they butt into yoursystem they stick crossways, like a swallered toothpick; there ain'tany patent medicine that can bust their holt. "

I settled against the door-jamb and nodded. 

"I've had them both, acute and continuous, since I was old enoughto know my own mind and the taste of tobacco; I hold them mainlyresponsible for my present condition. " He mournfully viewed hisfever-ridden frame which sprawled a pitiful six-feet-two from theheels of his gum-boots to the grizzled hair beneath his white Stetson. 

"The first and most rabid, " he continued, "is horse-racing--andt'other is the mining fever, which last is a heap insidiouser in itsaction and more lingering in its effect. 

"It wasn't long after that deal in the Territory that I felt thesymptoms coming on agin, and this time they pinted most emphatictoward prospecting, so me and 'Kink' Martin loaded our kit onto theburros and hit West. 

"Kink was a terrible good prospector, though all-fired unlucky andpeculiar. Most people called him crazy, 'cause he had fits of goin'for days without a peep. 

"Hosstyle and ornery to the whole world; sort of bulging out andexploding with silence, as it were. 

"We'd been out in the hills for a week on our first trip before hegot one of them death-watch faces on him, and boycotted the Englishlangwidge. I stood for it three days, trying to jolly a grin on tohim or rattle a word loose, but he just wouldn't jolt. 

"One night we packed into camp tired, hungry, and dying for a goodfeed. 

"I hustled around and produced a supper fit for old Mr. Eppycure. Knowing that Kink had a weakness for strong coffee that was simply ahinge in him, I pounded up about a quart of coffee beans in thecorner of a blanket and boiled out a South American liquid that wasnothing but the real Arbuckle mud. 

"This wasn't no chafing-dish party either, because the wood was wetand the smoke chased me round the fire. Then it blazed up in spurtsand fired the bacon-grease, so that when I grabbed the skillet thehandle sizzled the life all out of my callouses. I kicked the firedown to a nice bed of coals and then the coffee-pot upset and put itout. Ashes got into the bacon, and--Oh! you know how joyful it is tocook on a green fire when you're dead tired and your hoodoo's onvicious. 

"When the 'scoffings' were finally ready, I wasn't in what you mightexactly call a mollyfying and tactful mood nor exuding genialness andenthusiasms anyways noticeable. "

"I herded the best in camp towards him, watching for a benevolentsymptom, but he just dogged it in silence and never changed a hair. That was the limit, so I inquired sort of ominous and gentle, 'Isthat coffee strong enough for ye, Mr. Martin?'

"He give a little impecunious grunt, implying, 'Oh! it'll do, ' andwith that I seen little green specks begin to buck and wing in frontof my eyes; reaching back of me, I grabbed the Winchester and throwedit down on him. 

"'Now, you laugh, darn you, ' I says, 'in a hurry. Just turn it outgleeful and infractious. '

"He stared into the nozzle of that Krupp for a minute, then swalleredtwice to tune up his reeds, and says, friendly and perlite, butserious and wheezy:

"'Why, what in hell ails you, William?'

"'Laugh, you old dong-beater, ' I yells, rising gradually to theoccasion, 'or I'll bust your cupola like a blue-rock. '

"'I've got to have merriment, ' I says. 'I pine for warmth and genialsmiles, and you're due to furnish the sunshine. You emit a fewshreds of mirth with expedition or the upper end of your spinal-cordis going to catch cold. '

"Say! his jaws squeaked like a screen door when he loosened, but hebelched up a beauty, sort of stagy and artificial it was, but a greathelp. After that we got to know each other a heap better. Yes, sir;soon after that we got real intimate. He knocked the gun out of myhands, and we began to arbitrate. We plumb ruined that spot for acamping place; rooted it up in furrows, and tramped each other'sstummicks out of shape. We finally reached an amicable settlement byme getting him agin a log where I could brand him with the coffee-pot. 

"Right there we drawed up a protoplasm, by the terms of which he wasto laugh anyways twice at meal-times. 

"He told me that he reckoned he was locoed, and always had been sincea youngster, when the Injuns run in on them down at Frisbee, the timeof the big 'killing. ' Kink saw his mother and father both murdered, and other things, too, which was impressive, but not agreeable for agrowing child. He had formed a sort of antipathy for Injuns at thattime, which he confessed he hadn't rightly been able to overcome. 

"Now, he allus found himself planning how to hand Mr. Lo the doublecross and avoid complications. 

"We worked down into South Western Arizony to a spot aboutthirty-five miles back of Fort Walker and struck a prospect. Sort ofa teaser it was, but worth working on. We'd just got nicely startedwhen Kink comes into camp one day after taking a passiar around thebutte for game, and says:

"'The queerest thing happened to me just now, Kid. '

"'Well, scream it at me, ' I says, sort of smelling trouble in the air. 

"'Oh! It wasn't much, ' says he. 'I was just working down the bigcanyon over there after a deer when I seen two feather-dusters comingup the trail. I hid behind a rock, watching 'em go past, and I'mdurned if my gun didn't go off accidental and plumb ruin one of 'em. Then I looks carefuller and seen it wasn't no feather-duster atall--nothing but an Injun. '

"'What about the other one?'

"'That's the strangest part, ' says Kink. 'Pretty soon the other oneturns and hits the back-trail like he'd forgot something; then I seenhim drop off his horse, too, sudden and all togetherish. I'm awfulcareless with this here gun, ' he says. I hate to see a man laughfrom his tonsils forrard, the way he did. It ain't humorous. 

"'See here, ' I says, 'I ain't the kind that finds fault with mypardner, nor saying this to be captious and critical of your play;but don't you know them Cochises ain't on the warpath? Them Injunshas been on their reservation for five years, peaceable, domesticated, and eating from the hand. This means trouble. "

"'My old man didn't have no war paint on him one day back atFrisbee, ' whispers Kink, and his voice sounded puckered up and dried, 'and my mother wasn't so darned quarrelsome, either. '

"Then I says, 'Well! them bodies has got to be hid, or we'll have thetribe and the bluebellies from the fort a scouring these hills till ared-bug couldn't hide. '

"'To hell with 'em, ' says Kink. 'I've done all I'm going to for 'em. Let the coyotes finish the job. '

"'No, siree, ' I replies. 'I don't blame you for having a prejudiceagin savages, but _my_ parents is still robust and husky, and I havean idea that they'd rather see me back on the ranch than glaringthrough the bars for life. I'm going over to bury the meat. '

"Off I went, but when I slid down the gulch, I only found one body. T'other had disappeared. You can guess how much time I lost gettingback to camp. 

"'Kink, ' I says, 'we're a straddle of the raggedest proposition inthis country. One of your dusters at this moment is jamming hiscayuse through the horizon between here and the post. Pretty soonthings is going to bust loose. 'Bout to-morrer evening we'll beeating hog-bosom on Uncle Sam. '

"'Well! Well!' says Kink, 'ain't that a pity. Next time I'llconquer my natural shyness and hold a post-mortem with a rock. '

"'There won't be no next time, I reckon, ' I says, ''cause we can'tmake it over into Mexico without being caught up. They'll nail ussure, seeing as we're the only white men for twenty-five milesaround. '

"'I'd rather put up a good run than a bad stand, anyhow, ' says he, 'and I allows, furthermore, there's going to be some hard trails tofoller and a tolable disagreeable fight before I pleads 'not guilty'to the Colonel. We'll both duck over into the Santa--'

"'Now, don't tell me what route you're going, ' I interrupts, ' 'causeI believe I'll stay and bluff it through, rather than sneak for it, though neither proposition don't appeal to me. I may get raised outbefore the draw, but the percentage is just as strong agin your gameas mine. '

"'Boy, if I was backing your system, ' says Kink, 'I'd shore copperthis move and play her to lose. You come on with me, and we'll makeit through--mebbe. '

"'No, ' I says; 'here I sticks. '

"I made up a pack-strap out of my extry overhalls while he got grubtogether, to start south through one hundred miles of the ruggedestand barrenest country that was ever left unfinished. 

"Next noon I was parching some coffee-beans in the frying-pan, when Iheard hoofs down the gully back of me. I never looked up when theycome into the open nor when I heard a feller say 'Halt!'

"'Hello there!' somebody yells. 'You there at the fire. ' I kept onshaking the skillet over the camp-fire. 

"'What's the matter with him?' somebody said. A man got off andwalked up behind me. 

"'See here, brother, ' he says, tapping me on the shoulder; 'thisdon't go. '

"I jumped clean over the fire, dropped the pan, and let out a deafand dumb holler, 'Ee! Ah!'

"The men began to laugh; it seemed to rile the little leftenant. 

"'Cut this out, ' says he. 'You can talk as well as I can, and you'rea going to tell us about this Injun killin'. Don't try any fakebusiness, or I'll roast your little heels over that fire like yams. '

"I just acted the dummy, wiggled my fingers, and handed him thejoyful gaze, heliographing with my teeth as though I was glad to seevisitors. However, I wondered if that runt would really give mychilblains a treat. He looked like a West Pointer, and I didn't knowbut he'd try to haze me. 

"Well! they 'klow-towed' around there for an hour looking for clues, but I'd hid all the signs of Kink, so finally they strapped me onto ahorse and we hit back for the fort. 

"The little man tried all kinds of tricks to make me loosen on theway down, but I just acted wounded innocence and 'Ee'd' and 'Ah'd' athim till he let me alone. 

"When we rode up to the post he says to the Colonel:

"'We've got the only man there is in the mountains back there, sir, but he's playing dumb. I don't know what his game is. '

"'Dumb, eh?' says the old man, looking me over pretty keen. 'Well! Iguess we'll find his voice if he's got one. '

"He took me inside, and speaking of examinations, probably I didn'tget one. He kept looking at me like he wanted to place me, but Igive him the 'Ee! Ah!' till everybody began to laugh. They tried mewith a pencil and paper, but I balked, laid my ears back, andbuck-jumped. That made the old man sore, and he says: 'Lock him up!Lock him up; I'll make him talk if I have to skin him. ' So I wasdragged to the 'skookum-house, ' where I spent the night figuring outmy finish. 

"I could feel it coming just as plain, and I begun to see that when Idid open up and prattle after Kink was safe, nobody wouldn't believemy little story. I had sized the Colonel up as a dead stringy oldproposition, too. He was one of these big-chopped fellers with amouth set more'n half way up from his chin and little thin lips likethe edge of a knife blade, and just as full of blood--face, big andrustic-finished. 

"I says to myself, 'Bud, it looks like you wouldn't be forced toprospect for a living any more this season. If that old sport turnshimself loose you're going to get 'life' three times and a holdover. '

"Next morning they tried every way to make me talk. Once in a whilethe old man looked at me puzzled and searching, but I didn't know himfrom a sweat-pad, and just paid strict attention to being dumb. 

"It was mighty hard, too. I got so nervous my mouth simply ached tolet out a cayoodle. The words kept trying to crawl through mysesophagus, and when I backed 'em up, they slid down and stood aroundin groups, hanging onto the straps, gradually filling me with witfulgems of thought. 

"The Colonel talked to me serious and quiet, like I had good ears, and says, 'My man, you can understand every word I say, I'm sure, andwhat your object is in maintaining this ridiculous silence, I don'tknow. You're accused of a crime, and it looks serious for you. "

"Then he gazes at me queer and intent, and says, 'If you only knewhow bad you are making your case you'd make a clean breast of it. Come now, let's get at the truth. '

"Them thought jewels and wads of repartee was piling up in me fast, like tailings from a ground-sluice, till I could feel myself gettingbloated and pussy with langwidge, but I thought, 'No! to-morrow Kink'll be safe, and then I'll throw a jolt into this man's camp that'llgo down in history. They'll think some Chinaman's been thawing out abox of giant powder when I let out my roar. '

"I goes to the guard-house again, with a soldier at my back. Everything would have been all right if we hadn't run into a muleteam. 

"They had been freighting from the railroad, and as we left thebarracks we ran afoul of four outfits, three span to the wagon, withthe loads piled on till the teams was all lather and the wheelscomplainin' to the gods, trying to pass the corner of the barrackswhere there was a narrow opening between the buildings. 

"Now a good mule-driver is the littlest, orneriest speck in the humanline that's known to the microscope, but when you get a poor one, he'd spoil one of them cholera germs you read about just by contact. The leader of this bunch was worse than the worst; strong onwhip-arm, but surprising weak on judgment. He tried to make theturn, run plump into the corner of the building, stopped, backed, swung, and proceeded to get into grief. 

"The mules being hot and nervous, he sent them all to the loco patchinstanter. They began to plunge and turn and back and snarl. Beforeyou could say 'Craps! you lose, ' them shave-tails was giving thegrandest exhibition of animal idiocy in the Territory, barring theteamster. He follered their trail to the madhouse, yanking themouths out of them, cruel and vicious. 

"Now, one mule can cause a heap of tribulation, and six mules canbreak a man's heart, but there wasn't no excuse for that driver tostand up on his hind legs, close his eyes, and throw thirty foot oflash into that plunging buckin', white-eyed mess. When he did it, all the little words inside of me began to foam and fizzle likesedlitz; out they came, biting, in mouthfuls, and streams, andsquirts, backwards, sideways, and through my nose. 

"'Here! you infernal half-spiled, dog-robbing walloper, ' I says; 'youdon't know enough to drive puddle ducks to a pond. You quit heavingthat quirt or I'll harm you past healing. '

"He turned his head and grit out something through his teeth thatstimulated my circulation. I skipped over the wheels and put my leftonto his neck, fingering the keys on his blow-pipe like a flute. Then I give him a toss and gathered up the lines. Say! it was likethe smell of grease-paint to an actor man for me to feel the ribbonsagain, and them mules knew they had a chairman who savvied 'em too, and had mule talk pat, from soda to hock. 

"I just intimated things over them with that whip, and talked to themlike they was my own flesh and blood. I starts at the worst wordsthe English langwidge and the range had produced, to date, and gotsteadily and rapidly worse as long as I talked. 

"Arizony may be slow in the matter of standing collars and rag-time, but she leads the world in profanity. Without being swelled onmyself, I'll say, too, that I once had more'n a local reputation inthat line, having originated some quaint and feeling conceits whichhas won modest attention, and this day I was certainly trained to theminute. 

"I addressed them brutes fast and earnest for five minutes steady, and never crossed my trail or repeated a thought. 

"It must have been sacred and beautiful. Anyhow, it was strongenough to soak into their pores so that they strung out straight as achalk-line. Then I lifted them into the collars, and we rumbled pastthe building, swung in front of the commissary door, cramped andstopped. With the wheelers on their haunches, I backed up to thedoor square as a die. 

"I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and looked up into the grinningface of about fifty swatties, realizing I was a mute--and a prisoner. 

"I heard a voice say, 'Bring me that man. ' There stood the Coloneloozing out wrath at every pore. 

"I parted from that wagon hesitating and reluctant, but two soldiersto each leg will bust any man's grip, I lost some clothes, too, afterwe hit the ground, but I needed the exercise. 

"The old man was alone in his office when they dragged me in, and hesent my guards out. 

"'So you found your voice, did you?' he says. 

"'Yes, sir, " I answers. 'It came back unexpected, regular miracle. '

"'He drummed on the table for a long time, and then says, sort ofimmaterial and irreverent, 'You're a pretty good mule puncher, eh?'

"'It ain't for me to say I'm the best in the Territory, ' I says; 'butI'm curious to meet the feller that claims the title. '

"He continues, 'It reminds me of an exhibition I saw once, back inNew Mexico, long time ago, at the little Flatwater Canyon. '

"'Maybe you've heard tell of the fight there when the Apaches wereup? Yes? Well, I happened to be in that scrimmage. '

"'I was detailed with ten men to convoy a wagon train through to FortLewis. We had no trouble till we came to the end of that canyon, just where she breaks out onto the flats. There we got it. Theywere hidden up on the ridges; we lost two men and one wagon before wecould get out onto the prairie. 

"'I got touched up in the neck, first clatter, and was bleedingpretty badly; still I hung to my horse, and we stood 'em off till theteams made it out of the gulch; but just as we came out my horse felland threw me--broke his leg. I yelled to the boys:

"'"Go on! For God's sake go on!" Any delay there meant loss of thewhole outfit. Besides, the boys had more than they could manage, Injuns on three sides. 

"'We had a young Texan driving the last wagon. When I went down heswung those six mules of his and came back up that trail into thegut, where the bullets snapped like grasshoppers. 

"'It was the prettiest bit of driving I ever saw, not to mentionnerve. He whirled the outfit between me and the bluff on two wheels, yelling, "Climb on! Climb on! We ain't going to stay long!" I wasjust able to make it onto the seat. In the turn they dropped one ofhis wheelers. He ran out on the tongue and cut the brute loose. Wewent rattling down the gulch behind five mules. All the time therecame out of that man's lungs the fiercest stream of profanity my earsever burned under. I was pretty sick for a few weeks, so I never gota chance to thank that teamster. He certainly knew the mind of anarmy mule, though. His name was--let me see--Wiggins--yes, Wiggins. 

"'Oh, no it wasn't, ' I breaks in, foolish; 'it was Joyce. '

"Then I stopped and felt like a kid, for the Colonel comes up andshuts the circulation out of both my hands. 

"'I wasn't sure of you, Bill, ' he says, 'till I saw you preside overthose mules out there and heard your speech--then I recognized thegift. ' He laughed like a boy, still making free with my hands. 'I'mdarn glad to see you, Bill Joyce. Now then, ' he says, 'tell me allabout this killing up in the hills, ' and I done so. 

"After I finished he never said anything for a long time, justdrummed the desk again and looked thoughtful. 

"'It's too bad you didn't speak out, Bill, when you first came in. Now, you've showed everybody that you can talk--just a little, anyhow, ' and he smiles, 'and they all think you're the man caused thetrouble. I don't see but that you've got to stand trial. I wish Icould help you, Bill. '

"'But see here, Colonel, ' I says; 'I couldn't squeal on Kink. We're_pardners_. I just _had_ to give him a chance to cut. I played dumb'cause I knew if I talked at all, being simple and guileless, you allwould twist me up and have the whole thing in a jiffy. That man giveme the last drop of water in his canteen on the Mojave, and him withhis own tongue swelled clean out of his mouth, too. When we wassnowed in, up in the Bitter Roots, with me snow-blind and starving, he crawled from Sheeps-Horn clean to Miller's--snow twelve foot deep, too, and nary a snow-shoe in miles, but he brought the outfit in towhere I was lyin' 'bout gone in. He lost some fingers and more toeswallering through them mountain drifts that day, but he never laiddown till he brought the boys back. 

"'Colonel! we've slept on the same blanket, we've et the same grub, we've made and lost together, and I had to give him a show, that'sall. I'm into this here trouble now. Tell me how I'm going to getout. What would you do?'

"He turns to the open window and says: 'Partners are partners!That's my horse out there at that post. If I were you I'd run likehell. '

"That was the willingest horse I ever rode, and I hated to sell him, but he was tolable used up when I got across the line. "

THE COLONEL AND THE HORSE-THIEF

Those marks on my arm? Oh! I got 'em playin' horse-thief. Yes, playin'. I wasn't a real one, you know--Well, I s'pose it was sortof a queer game. Came near bein' my last too, and if Black Hawkhadn't been the best horse in Texas the old Colonel would've killedme sure. He chased me six miles as it was--me with one arm full ofhis buckshot and anxious to explain, and him strainin' to get inrange again and not wishin' any further particulars. 

That was way back in the sixties, when I was as wild a lad as everstraddled a pony. 

You see five of us had gone over into the Crow Nation to race horseswith the Indians, and it was on the way back that the old man and thebullet holes figger in the story. 

At the beginnin' it was Jim Barrett's plan, and it had jest enoughrisk and devilment in it to suit a harum-scarum young feller like me;so we got five of the boys who had good horses, lumped together allof our money, and rode out to invade the reservation. 

You know how an Indian loves to run horses? Well, the Crows had agood deal of money then, and our scheme was to go over there, get upa big race, back our horses with all we had, and take down the wealth. 

Takin' chances? Don't you believe it. That's where the beauty ofJim's plan commenced to sort of shine through. 

You see, as soon as the money was up and the horses started, everyIndian would be watchin' the race and yellin' at the nags, then, inthe confusion, our boys was to grab the whole pot, Indian's money andours too, and we'd make our get away across the river back into Texas. 

We figured that we could get a few minutes start of 'em, and, withthe horses we had under us, there wasn't much danger of their gettin'in range before we crossed back to where they couldn't follow us. 

Well, sir! I never see anything work out like that scheme did. ThemCrows was dead anxious to run their ponies and seemed skeered that wewouldn't let 'em get all their money up. 

As we was eatin' supper the night before the race, Donnelly says:"Boys, I'm sore that we didn't have more coin. If we'd worked 'emright they'd 'a' give us odds. We could 'a' got five to threeanyhow, and maybe more. "

"They shore have got a heap of confidence in them skates of their'n, "says Kink Martin. "I never see anybody so anxious to play a race inmy life. If it wasn't all planned out the way it is, I'd like tostick and see which hoss is the best. I'd back Black Hawk agin anyhunk of meat in the Territory, with the Kid here in the saddle. "

They'd ribbed it up for me to ride Martin's mare, Black Hawk, while alittle feller named Hollis rode his own horse. 

Donnelly's part was to stay in the saddle and keep the other horsesclose to Barrett and Martin. They was to stick next to the money, and one of 'em do the bearin' off of the booty while the other madethe protection play. 

We hoped in the excitement to get off without harmin' any of UncleSam's pets, but all three of the boys had been with the Rangers and Iknew if it came to a show down, they wouldn't hesitate to "pot" oneor two in gittin' away. 

We rode out from camp the next mornin' to where we'd staked out amile track on the prairie and it seemed as if the whole Crow Nationwas there, and nary a white but us five. 

They'd entered two pretty good-lookin' horses and had their jockeysstripped down to breech-clouts, while Hollis and me wore our wholeoutfits on our backs, as we didn't exactly figger on dressin' afterthe race, leastways, not on that side of the river. 

Just before we lined up, Jim says: "Now you ---- all ride like ----, and when you git to the far turn we'll let the guns loose andstampede the crowd. Then jest leave the track and make a break ferthe river, everybody fer himself. We'll all meet at them cottonwoodson the other side, so we can stand 'em off if they try to swim acrossafter us. "

That would have been a sure enough hot race if we had run it out, forwe all four got as pretty a start as I ever see and went down theline all together with a-bangin' of hoofs and Indian yells ringin' inour ears. 

I had begun to work Black Hawk out of the bunch to get a clear startacross the prairie at the turn, when I heard the guns begin snappin'like pop-corn. 

"They've started already, " yelled Hollis, and we turned the rearin'horses toward the river, three miles away, leavin' them two savagestearin' down the track like mad. 

I glanced back as I turned, but, instead of seein' the boys in themidst of a decent retreat, the crowd was swarmin' after 'em like anest of angry hornets, while Donnelly, with his reins between histeeth, was blazin' away at three reds who were right at Barrett'sheels as he ran for his horse. Martin was lashin' his jumpin' cayuseaway from the mob which sputtered and spit angry shots after him. Bucks were runnin' here and there and hastily mountin' theirponies--while an angry roar came to me, punctuated by the poppin' ofthe guns. 

Hollis and I reached the river and swam it half a mile ahead of theothers and their yellin' bunch of trailers, so we were able toprotect 'em in their crossin'. 

I could see from their actions that Bennett and Martin was both hurtand I judged the deal hadn't panned out exactly accordin' tospecifications. 

The Crows didn't attempt to cross in the teeth of our fire, however, being satisfied with what they'd done, and the horses safely broughtour three comrades drippin' up the bank to where we lay takin'pot-shots at every bunch of feathers that approached the oppositebank. 

We got Barrett's arm into a sling, and, as Martin's hurt wasn'tserious, we lost no time in gettin' away. 

"They simply beat us to it, " complained Barrett, as we rode south. "You all had jest started when young Long Hair grabs the sack andducks through the crowd, and the whole bunch turns loose on us atonce. We wasn't expectin' anything so early in the game, and theywinged me the first clatter. I thought sure it was oft with me whenI got this bullet in the shoulder, but I used the gun in my left handand broke for the nearest pony. "

"They got me, too, before I saw what was up, " added Martin; "but Itore out of there like a jack-rabbit. It was all done so cussedquick that the first thing I knew I'd straddled my horse and wasmakin' tracks. Who'd a thought them durned Indians was dishonestenough fer a trick like that?"

Then Donnelly spoke up and says: "Boys, as fur as the coin goes, we're out an' injured; we jest made a 'Mexican stand-off'--lost ourmoney, but saved our lives--and mighty lucky at that, fromappearances. What I want to know now is, how we're all goin' to gethome, clean across the State of Texas, without a dollar in theoutfit, and no assets but our guns and the nags. "

That was a sure tough proposition, and we had left it teetotally outof calculations. We'd bet every bean on that race, not seein' how wecould lose. In them days there wasn't a railroad in that section, ranches were scatterin', and people weren't givin' pink teas to everystranger that rode up--especially when they were as hard-lookin' aswe were. 

"We've got to eat, and so's the horses, " says Hollis, "but no rancheris goin' to welcome with open arms as disreputable an outfit as weare. Two men shot up, and the rest of us without beddin', grub, money, or explanations. Them's what we need--explanations. I don'texactly see how we're goin' to explain our fix to the honesthay-diggers, either. Everybody'll think some sheriff is after us, and two to one they'll put some officer on our trail, and we'll havemore trouble. I believe I've had all I want for awhile. "

"I'll tell you how we'll work it, " I says. "One of us'll be thesheriff of Guadalupe County, back home, with three deputies, bringin'back a prisoner that we've chased across the State. We'll ride up toa ranch an' demand lodgin' for ourselves and prisoner in the name ofthe State of Texas and say that we'll pay with vouchers on the countyin the morning. "

"No, sir! not fer me, " says Martin. "I'm not goin' in fer forgery. It's all right to practice a little mild deception on our redbrothers, as we figgered on doing, but I'm not goin' to try toflimflam the State of Texas. Our troubles 'd only be startin' if webegan that game. "

"Your plan's all right, Kid, " says Bennett to me. "You be theterrible desperado that I'm bringin' home after a bloody fight, whereyou wounded Martin and me, and 'most escaped. You'll have ev'ryrancher's wife givin' you flowers and weepin' over your youth andkissin' you good-bye. In the mornin', when we're ready to go and I'mabout to fix up the vouchers for our host, you break away and ridelike the devil. We'll all tear off a few shots and foller in ahurry, leavin' the farmer hopin' that the villain is recaptured andthe girls tearfully prayin' that the gallunt and misguided youthescapes. "

It seemed to be about our only resort, as the country was full of badmen, and we were liable to get turned down cold if we didn't havesome story, so we decided to try it on. 

We rode up to a ranch 'bout dark, that night, me between the others, with my hands tied behind me, and Jim called the owner out. 

"I want a night's lodgin' fer my deputies and our prisoner, " he says. "I'm the sheriff of Guadalupe County, and I'll fix up the bill in themornin'. "

"Come in! Come in!" the feller says, callin' a man for the horses. "Glad to accommodate you. Who's your prisoner?"

"That's Texas Charlie that robbed the Bank of Euclid single-handed, "answers Jim. "He give us a long run clean across the State, but wegot him jest as he was settin' over into the Indian Territory. Fought like a tiger. "

It worked fine. The feller, whose name was Morgan, give us a goodlayout for the night and a bully breakfast next morning. 

That desperado game was simply great. The other fellers attended tothe horses, and I jest sat around lookin' vicious, and had my grubbrought to me, while the women acted sorrowful and fed me pie andwatermelon pickles. 

When we was ready to leave next morning, Jim says: "Now, Mr. Morgan, I'll fix up them vouchers with you, " and givin' me the wink, I letout a yell, and jabbin' the spurs into Black Hawk, we cleared thefence and was off like a puff of dust, with the rest of 'em shootin'and screamin' after me like mad. 

Say! It was lovely--and when the boys overtook me, out of sight ofthe house, Morgan would have been astonished to see the sheriff, hisposse, and the terrible desperado doubled up in their saddleslaughin' fit to bust. 

Well, sir! we never had a hitch in the proceedings for five days, andI was gettin' to feel a sort of pride in my record as a bank-robber, forger, horse-thief, and murderer, accordin' to the way Bennettpresented it. He certainly was the boss liar of the range. 

He had a story framed up that painted me as the bloodiest young toughthe Lone Star had ever produced, and it never failed to get me allthe attention there was in the house. 

One night we came to the best lookin' place we'd seen, and, in answerto Jim's summons, out walked an old man, followed by two of theprettiest girls I ever saw, who joined their father in invitin' us in. 

"Glad to be of assistance to you, Mr. Sheriff, " he said. "My name isPurdy, sir! Colonel Purdy, as you may have heard. In the MexicanWar, special mention three times for distinguished conduct. Theseare my daughters, sir! Annabel and Marie. " As we went in, hecontinued: "You say you had a hard time gettin' your prisoner? Helooks young for a criminal. What's he wanted for?"

Somehow, when I saw those girls blushin' and bowin' behind theirfather, I didn't care to have my crimes made out any blacker'nnecessary and I tried to give Jim the high-sign to let me offeasy--just make it forgery or arson--but he was lookin' at theladies, and evidently believin' in the strength of a good impression, he said: "Well, yes! He's young but they never was a old man withhalf his crimes. He's wanted for a good many things in differentplaces, but I went after him for horse-stealin' and murder. Killed arancher and his little daughter, then set fire to the house and ranoff a bunch o' stock. "

"Oh! Oh! How dreadful!" shuddered the girls, backin' off withhorrified glances at me. 

I tried to get near Jim to step on his foot, but the old man wasglarin' at me somethin' awful. 

"Come to observe him closely, he has a depraved face, " says he. "Helooks the thorough criminal in every feature, dead to every decentimpulse, I s'pose. "

I could have showed him a live impulse that would have surprised himabout then. 

In those days I was considered a pretty handsome feller too, and Iknew I had Jim beat before the draw on looks, but he continues makin'matters worse. 

"Yes, and he's desperate too. One of the worst I ever see. We hadan awful fight with him up here on the line of the Territory. Heshot Martin and me before we got him. Ye see, I wanted to take himalive, and so I took chances on gettin' hurt. 

"Thank ye, Miss; my arm does ache considerable; of course, if you'djest as soon dress it--Oh, no! I'm no braver'n anybody else, Iguess. Nice of ye to say so, anyhow, " and he went grinnin' out intothe kitchen with the girls to fix up his arm. 

The old man insisted on havin' my feet bound together and me fastenedto a chair, and said: "Yes, yes, I know you can watch him, but you'rein my house now, and I feel a share of the responsibility upon me. I've had experience with desperate characters and I'm goin' to besure that this young reprobate don't escape his just punishment. Areyou sure you don't need more help gettin' him home? I'll go with youif--"

"Thank ye, " interrupted Hollis. "We've chased the scoundrel fourhundred miles, and I reckon, now we've got him, we can keep him. "

At supper, Jim with his arm in a new sling, sat between the two girlswho cooed over him and took turns feedin' him till it made me sick. 

The old man had a nigger move my chair up to the foot of the tableand bring me a plate of coarse grub after they all finished eatin'. 

He had tied my ankles to the lower rung of the chair himself, andwhen I says to the nigger, "Those cords have plum stopped mycirculation, just ease 'em up a little, " he went straight up. 

"Don't you touch them knots, Sam!" he roared. "I know how to securea man, and don't you try any of your games in my house, either, youyoung fiend. I'd never forgive myself if you escaped. "

I ate everything I could reach, which wasn't much, and when I askedfor the butter he glared at me and said: "Butter's too good forhorse-thieves; eat what's before you. "

Every time I'd catch the eye of one of the girls and kind of grin andlook enticing, she'd shiver and tell Jim that the marks of mydepravity stood out on my face like warts on a toad. 

Jim and the boys would all grin like idiots and invent a new crimefor me. On the square, if I'd worked nights from the age of three Icouldn't have done half they blamed me for. 

They put it to the old man so strong that when he turned in hechained me to Sam, the cross-eyed nigger that stood behind me atsupper, and made us sleep on the floor. 

I told Sam that I cut a man's throat once because he snored, and thatnigger never closed an eye all night. I was tryin' to get even withsomebody. 

After breakfast, when it came time to leave, Donnelly untied my feetand led me out into the yard, where the girls were hangin' around theColonel and Jim, who was preparin' to settle up. 

As we rode up the evening before, I had noticed that we turned infrom the road through a lane, and that the fence was too high tojump, so, when I threw my leg over Black Hawk, I hit Donnelly a swatin the neck, and, as he did a stage-fall, I swept through the gateand down the lane. 

The old man cut the halter off one of his Mexican war-whoops, andbroke through the house on the run, appearin' at the front door withhis shot-gun just as I checked up to make the turn onto the main road. 

As I swung around, doubled over the horse's neck, he let drive withhis old blunderbuss, and I caught two buckshot in my right arm whereyou see them marks. 

I had sense enough to hang on and ride for my life, because I knewthe old fire-eater would reckon it a pleasure to put an end to such awretch as me, if he got half a chance. 

I heard him howl, "Come on boys! We'll get him yet, " and, over myshoulder, I saw him jump one of his loose horses standin' in the yardand come tearin' down the lane, ahead of the befuddled sheriff andposse, his white hair streamin' and the shot-gun wavin' aloft, asthough chargin' an army of greasers at the head of his regiment. 

From the way he drew away from the boys, I wouldn't have placed anymoney that he was wrong either. 

I've always wondered how the old man ever got through that war withonly three recommendations to the government. 

He certainly kept good horses too, for in five minutes we'd left theposse behind, and I saw him madly urgin' his horse into range, reloadin' as he came. 

As I threw the quirt into the mare with my good arm, I allowed I'dhad about all the horse-stealin' I wanted for a while. 

The old devil finally saw he was losin' ground in spite of his bestefforts, and let me have both barrels. I heard the shot patter onthe hard road behind me, and hoped he'd quit and go home, but I'mblamed if he didn't chase me five miles further before turnin' back, in hopes I'd cast a shoe or something would happen to me. 

I believe I was on the only horse in Texas that could have outrun theColonel and his that mornin'. 

About noon I stopped at a blacksmith's shop, half dead with pain, andhad my arm dressed and a big jolt of whiskey. 

As the posse rode up to me, sittin' in the sun by the lathered flanksof my horse and nursin' my arm, Jim yells out: "Here he is! Surroundhim, boys! You're our prisoner!"

"No! I'm blamed if I am, " I says. "You'll have to get anotherdesperado. After this, I'm the sheriff!"

THE THAW AT SLISCO'S

The storm broke at Salmon Lake, and we ran for Slisco's road-house. It whipped out from the mountains, all tore into strips comingthrough the saw-teeth, lashing us off the glare ice and driving us upagainst the river banks among the willows. Cold? Well, some! Mybottle of painkiller froze slushy, like lemon punch. 

There's nothing like a warm shack, with a cache full of grub, whenthe peaks smoke and the black snow-clouds roar down the gulch. 

Other "mushers" were ahead of us at the road-house, freighters fromKougarok, an outfit from Teller going after booze, the mail-carrier, and, who do you reckon?--Annie Black. First time I had seen hersince she was run out of Dawson for claim jumping. 

Her and me hadn't been essential to one another since I won that suitover a water right on Eldorado. 

"Hello, Annie, " says I, clawing the ice out of my whiskers; "findingplenty of claims down here to relocate?"

"Shut up, you perjured pup, " says she, full of disappointingaffabilities; "I don't want any dealings with a lying, thievinghypocrite like you, Billy Joyce. "

Annie lacks the sporting instinct; she ain't got the disposition forcup-racing. Never knew her to win a case, and yet she's theinstigatress of more emotional activities than all the marked cardsand home distilled liquor in Alaska. 

"See here, " says I, "a prairie dog and a rattler can hole uptogether, but humans has got to be congenial, so, seein' as we're allstuck to live in the same room till this blizzard blizzes out, let'sforget our troubles. I'm as game a Hibernian as the next, but Idon't hibernate till there's a blaze of mutual respect going. "

"Blaze away, " says she, "though I leave it to the crowd if you don'tlook and act like a liar and a grave robber. " Her speech is surefull of artless hostilities. 

Ain't ever seen her? Lord! I thought everybody knew Annie Black. She drifted into camp one day, tall, slab-sided, ornery to the view, and raising fifty or upwards; disposition uncertain as frozendynamite. Her ground plans and elevations looked like she was laidout for a man, but the specifications hadn't been follered. We ain'tconsumed by curiosity regarding the etymology of every stranger thatdrifts in, and as long as he totes his own pack, does hisassessments, and writes his location notices proper, it goes. Leastways, it went till she hit town. In a month she had thebrotherly love of that camp gritting its teeth and throwing backtwisters. 'Twas all legitimate, too, and there never was apennyweight of scandal connected with her name. No, sir! Far'sconduct goes, she's always been the shinin' female example of thiscountry; but them qualities let her out. 

First move was to jump Bat Ruggles's town lot. He had four coursesof logs laid for a cabin when "Scotty" Bell came in from the hillswith $1800 in coarse gold that he'd rocked out of a prospect shaft onBat's Moose's Creek claim. 

Naturally Bat made general proclamation of thirst, and our townkinder dozed violently into a joyful three days' reverie, duringwhich period of coma the recording time on Bat's lot ran out. 

He returns from his "hootch-hunt" to complete the shack, and findsAnnie overseeing some "Siwashes" put a pole roof on it. Of course hepromotes a race-war immediate, playing the white "open" and the redto lose, so to speak, when she up an' spanks his face, addressingexpurgated, motherly cuss-words at him like he'd been a bad boy andswallered his spoon, or dug an eye out of the kitten. Bat realizeshe's against a strange system and draws out of the game. 

A week later she jumps No. 3, Gold Bottom, because Donnelly stuck apick in his foot and couldn't stay to finish the assessment. 

"I can't throw her off, or shoot her up, " says he, "or even cuss ather like I want to, 'cause she's a lady. " And it appeared likethat'd been her graft ever since--presumin' on her sex to makedisturbances. In six months we hated her like pizen. 

There wasn't a stampede in a hundred miles where her bloomers wasn'tleading, for she had the endurance of a moose; and betweenexcitements she prospected for trouble in the manner of relocations. 

I've heard of fellers speakin' disrespectful to her and thenwandering around dazed and loco after she'd got through painting wordpictures of 'em. It goes without saying she was generally popularand petted, and when the Commissioner invited her to duck out downthe river, the community sighed, turned over, and had a peacefulrest--first one since she'd come in. 

I hadn't seen her from that time till I blowed into Slisco's on thebosom of this forty mile, forty below blizzard. 

Setting around the fire that night I found that she'd just lostanother of her famous lawsuits--claimed she owned a fraction'longside of No. 20, Buster Creek, and that the Lund boys had changedtheir stakes so as to take in her ground. During the winter they'dopened up a hundred and fifty feet of awful rich pay right next toher line, and she'd raised the devil. Injunctions, hearings andappeals, and now she was coming back, swearing she'd been "jobbed, "the judge had been bought, and the jury corrupted. 

"It's the richest strike in the district, " says she. "They've rockedout $11, 000 since snow flew, and there's 30, 000 buckets of dirt onthe dump. They can bribe and bulldoze a decision through this court, but I'll have that fraction yet, the robbers. "

"Robbers be cussed, " speaks up the mail man. "You're the cause ofthe trouble yourself. If you don't get a square deal, it's your ownfault--always looking for technicalities in the mining laws. It'sbeen your game from the start to take advantage of your skirts, whatthere is of 'em, and jump, jump, jump. Nobody believes half you say. You're a natural disturber, and if you was a man you'd have been hunglong ago. "

I've heard her oral formations, and I looked for his epidermis toshrivel when she got her replications focused. She just soared upand busted. 

"Look out for the stick, " thinks I. 

"Woman, am I, " she says, musical as a bum gramophone under the slowbell. "I take advantage of my skirts, do I? Who are you, you mangy'malamoot, ' to criticise a lady? I'm more of a man than you, youtin-horn; I want no favours; I do a man's work; I live a man's life;I am a man, and I'm proud of it, but you--; Nome's full of your kind;you need a woman to support you; you're a protoplasm, a polyp. ThoseSwedes changed their stakes to cover my fraction. I know it, theyknow it, and if it wasn't Alaska, God would know it, but He won't bein again till spring, and then the season's only three months long. I've worked like a man, suffered like a man--"

"Why don't ye' lose like a man?" says he. 

"I will, and I'll fight like one, too, " says she, while her eyesburned like faggots. "They've torn away the reward of years of workand agony, and they forget I can hate like a man. "

She was stretched up to high C, where her voice drowned the howl ofthe storm, and her seamed old face was a sight. I've seen mild, shrinky, mouse-shy women 'roused to hell's own fury, and I felt thatnight that here was a bad enemy for the Swedes of Buster Creek. 

She stopped, listening. 

"What's that? There's some one at the door. "

"Nonsense, " says one of the freighters. "You do so much knocking youcan hear the echo. "

"There's some one at that door, " says she. 

"If there was, they'd come in, " says Joe. 

"Couldn't be, this late in this storm, " I adds. 

She came from behind the stove, and we let her go to the door alone. Nobody ever seemed to do any favours for Annie Black. 

"She'll be seein' things next, " says Joe, winking. "What'd I tellyou? For God's sake close it--you'll freeze us. "

Annie opened the door, and was hid to the waist in a cloud of steamthat rolled in out of the blackness. She peered out for a minute, stooped, and tugged at something in the dark. I was at her side in ajump, and we dragged him in, snow-covered and senseless. 

"Quick--brandy, " says she, slashing at his stiff "mukluks. " "Joe, bring in a tub of snow. " Her voice was steel sharp. 

"Well, I'm danged, " says the mail man. "It's only an Injun. Youneedn't go crazy like he was a white. "

"Oh, you _fool_" says Annie. "Can't you see? Esquimaux don't travelalone. There's white men behind, and God help them if we don't bringhim to. "

She knew more about rescustications than us, and we did what shesaid, till at last he came out of it, groaning--just plumb wore outand numb. 

"Talk to him, Joe; you savvy their noise, " says I. 

The poor devil showed his excitement, dead as he was. 

"There's two men on the big 'Cut-off, '" Joe translates. "Lost on theportage. There was only one robe between 'em, so they rolled up init, and the boy came on in the dark. Says they can't last tillmorning. "

"That lets them out, " says the mail carrier. "Too bad we can't reachthem to-night. "

"What!" snaps Annie. "Reach 'em? Huh! I said you were a jellyfish. Hurry up and get your things on, boys. "

"Have a little sense, " says Joe. "You surely ain't a darn fool. Outin this storm, dark as the inside of a cow; blowin' forty mile, andthe 'quick' froze. Can't be done. I wonder who they are?"

He "kowtowed" some more, and at the answer of the chattering savagewe looked at Annie. 

"Him called Lund, " shivered the Siwash. 

I never see anybody harder hit than her. I love a scrap, but Ithinks "Billy, she's having a stiffer fight than you ever associatedwith. "

Finally she says, kind of slow and quiet: "Who knows where the'Cut-off' starts?"

Nobody answers, and up speaks the U. S. Man again. 

"You've got your nerve, to ask a man out on such a night. "

"If there was one here, I wouldn't have to ask him. There's peoplefreezing within five miles of here, and you hug the stove, saying:'It's stormy, and we'll get cold. ' Of course it is. If it wasn'tstormy they'd be here too, and it's so cold, you'll probably freeze. What's that got to do with it? Ever have your mother talk to youabout duty? Thank Heaven I travelled that portage once, and I canfind it again if somebody will go with me. "

'Twas a blush raising talk, but nobody upset any furniture gettingdressed. 

She continues:

"So I'm the woman of this crowd and I hide behind my skirts. Mr. Mail Man, show what a glorious creature you are. Throw yourself--getup and stretch and roar. Oh, you barn-yard bantam! Has it had itspap to-night? I've a grand commercial enterprise; I'll take all ofyour bust measurements and send out to the States for a line ofcorsets. Ain't there half a man among you?"

She continued in this vein, pollutin' the air, and, having no meansof defence, we found ourselves follerin' her out into a yelling stormthat beat and roared over us like waves of flame. 

Swede luck had guided their shaft onto the richest pay-streak inseven districts, and Swede luck now led us to the Lund boys, curledup in the drifted snow beside their dogs; but it was the level headand cool judgment of a woman that steered us home in the grey whirlof the dawn. 

During the deathly weariness of that night I saw past the callousedhide of that woman and sighted the splendid courage cached awaybeneath her bitter oratory and hosstyle syllogisms. "There's a storythere, " thinks I, "an' maybe a man moved in it--though I can'timagine her softened by much affection. " It pleased some guy tostate that woman's the cause of all our troubles, but I figgerthey're like whisky--all good, though some a heap better'n others, ofcourse, and when a frail, little, ninety pound woman gets to buckingand acting bad, there's generally a two hundred pound man hid out inthe brush that put the burr under the saddle. 

During the next three days she dressed the wounds of themScow-weegians and nursed them as tender as a mother. 

The wind hadn't died away till along came the "Flying Dutchman" fromDugan's, twenty miles up, floatin' on the skirts of the blizzard. 

"Hello, fellers. Howdy, Annie. What's the matter here?" says he. "We had a woman at Dugan's too--purty as a picture; different fromthe Nome bunch--real sort of a lady. "

"Who is she?" says I, "an' what's she doin' out here on the trail?"

"Dunno, but she's all right; come clean from Dawson with a dog team;says she's looking for her mother. "

I heard a pan clatter on the floor where Annie was washing dishes, and her face went a sickly grey. She leaned across, gripping thetable and straining to ask something, but the words wouldn't come, while "Dutch" continues:

"Somethin' strange about it, I think. She says her ma's over in theGolden Gate district, workin' a rich mine. Of course we all laughedat her, and said there wasn't a woman in the whole layout, 'ceptin'_some_ folks might misconstrue Annie here into a kind of a female. She stuck to it though, much as to say we was liars. She's comin'on--what's the matter, Annie--you ain't sore at me effeminatin' youby the gentle name of female, are you?"

She had come to him, and gripped his shoulder, till her long, bonyfingers buried themselves in his mackinaw. Her mouth was twitching, and she hadn't got shed of that "first-aid-to-the-injured" look. 

"What name? What name, Dutch? What name?" She shook him like a rat. 

"Bradshaw--but you needn't run your nails through and clinch 'em. Ow! Le'go my white meat. You act like she was your long lost baby. What d'ye think of that idea, fellers? Ain't that a pleasin'conceit? Annie Black, and a baby. Ha! Ha! that's a hit. Annie anda daughter. A cow-thief and a calla-lily. "

"Dutch, " says I, "you ain't a-goin' to make it through to Lane'sLanding if you don't pull your freight, " and I drags the darn foolout and starts him off. 

When I came in she was huddled onto a goods box, shaking and sobbinglike any woman, while the boys sat around and champed their bits andstomped. 

"Take me away, Billy, " she says. "For God's sake take me away beforeshe sees me. " She slid down to the floor and cried something awful. Gents, that was sure the real distress, nothing soft and sloppy, buthard, wrenchy, deep ones, like you hear at a melodrayma. 'Twas onlyback in '99 that I seen an awful crying match, though both of theladies had been drinking, so I felt like I was useder to emotion thanthe balance of the boys, and it was up to me to take a holt. 

"Madam, " says I, and somehow the word didn't seem out of place anymore--"Madam, why do you want to avoid this party?"

"Take me away, " she says. "It's my daughter. She's going to find methis way, all rough and immodest and made fun of. But that's theworst you can say, isn't it? I'm a square woman--you know I am, don't you, boys?" and she looked at us fierce and pleadin'. 

"Sure, " says Joe. "We'll boost you with the girl all right. "

"She thinks her father's dead, but he isn't--he ran away with a showwoman--a year after we were married. I never told her about it, andI've tried to make a little lady of her. "

We found out afterwards that she had put the girl in aboarding-school, but couldn't seem to make enough for both of them, and when the Klondyke was struck thought she saw a chance. She camenorth, insulted by deck hands and laughed at by the officers. AtSkagway she nursed a man through typhoid, and when he could walk herobbed her. The mounted police took everything else she had andmocked at her. "Your kind always has money, " they said. 

That's how it had been everywhere, and that's why she was so hard andbitter. She'd worked and fought like a man, but she'd suffered likea woman. 

"I've lied and starved and stolen for her, " said Annie, "to make herthink I was doing well. She said she was coming in to me, but I knewwinter would catch her at Dawson, and I thought I could head her offby spring. "

"Now, she's here; but, men, as your mothers loved you, save me frommy little girl. "

She buried her face, and when I looked at the boys, tears stood inJoe Slisco's eyes and the others breathed hard. Ole Lund, him thatwas froze worst about the hands, spoke up:

"Someboady tak de corner dat blanket an' blow may nose. "

Then we heard voices outside. 

"Hello, in there. "

Annie stood up, clutching at her throat, and stepped behind thecorner of the bunks as the door opened, framing the prettiest picturethis old range rider ever saw. 

'Twas a girl, glowing pink and red where the cold had kissed hercheeks, with yellow curlicues of hair wandering out under her yarncap. Her little fox-trimmed parka quit at the knees, showing thedaintiest pair of--I can't say it. Anyhow, they wasn't, they justlooked like 'em, only nicer. 

She stood blinking at us, coming from the bright light outside, ascute as a new faro box--then:

"Can you tell me where Mrs. Bradshaw lives? She's somewhere in thisdistrict. I'm her daughter--come all the way from the States to seeher. "

When she smiled I could hear the heart-strings of those ragged, whiskered, frost-bit "mushers" bustin' like banjo strings. 

"You know her, don't you?" she says, turning to me. 

"Know her, Miss? Well, I should snort! There ain't a prospector onthe range that ain't proud and honoured to call her a friend. Leastways, if there is I'll bust his block, " and I cast the bad eyeon the boys to wise 'em up. 

"Ain't I right, Joe?"

"Betcher dam life, " says Joe, sort of over-stepping the conventions. 

"Then tell me where her claim is. It's quite rich, and you must knowit, " says she, appealing to him. 

Up against it? Say! I seen the whites of his eyes show like he wasdrownding, and he grinned joyful as a man kicked in the stummick. 

"Er--er--I just bought in here, and ain't acquainted much, " says he. "Have a drink, " and, in his confusions, he sets out the bottle ofalkalies that he dignifies by the alias of booze. Then he continueswith reg'lar human intelligence. 

"Bill, here, he can tell you where the ground is, " and the whelpindicates me. 

Lord knows my finish, but for Ole Lund. He sits up in his bunk, swaddled in Annie Black's bandages, and through slits between hisfrost bites, he moults the follering rhetoric:

"Aye tole you vere de claim iss. She own de Nomber Twenty fractionon Buster Creek, 'longside may and may broder. She's dam goodfraction, too. "

I consider that a blamed white stunt for Swedes; paying for theirlives with the mine they swindled her out of. 

Anyhow, it knocked us galley-west. 

I'd formulated a swell climax, involving the discovery of the mother, when the mail man spoke up, him that had been her particularabomination, a queer kind of a break in his voice:

"Come out of that. "

Mrs. Bradshaw moved out into the light, and, if I'm any judge, thejoy that showed in her face rubbed away the bitterness of the pastyears. With an aching little cry the girl ran to her, and hid in herarms like a quail. 

We men-folks got accumulated up into a dark corner where we shookhands and swore soft and insincere, and let our throats hurt, for allthe world like it was Christmas or we'd got mail from home. 

BITTER ROOT BILLINGS, ARBITER

Billings rode in from the Junction about dusk, and ate his supper insilence. He'd been East for sixty days, and, although there lurkedabout him the hint of unwonted ventures, etiquette forbade itsmention. You see, in our country, that which a man gives voluntarilyis ofttimes later dissected in smoky bunk-houses, or roughly handledround flickering camp fires, but the privacies he guards areinviolate. Curiosity isn't exactly a lost art, but its practiceisn't popular nor hygenic. 

Later, I found him meditatively whittling out on the porch, and, asthe moment seemed propitious, I inquired adroitly:--"Did you have agood time in Chicago, 'Bitter Root'?"

"Bully, " said he, relapsing into weighty absorption. 

"What'd you do?" I inquired with almost the certainty of appearinginsistent. 

"Don't you never read the papers?" he inquired, with such evidentcompassion that Kink Martin and the other boys snickered. This from"Bitter Root, " who scorns literature outside of the "ArkansasPrinting, " as he terms the illustrations!

"Guess I'll have to show you my press notices, " and from a hip pockethe produced a fat bundle of clippings in a rubber band. These hedisplayed jealously, and I stared agape, for they were front pages ofgreat metropolitan dailies, marred with red and black scare heads, inwhich I glimpsed the words, "Billings, of Montana, " "'Bitter Root' onArbitration, " "A Lochinvar Out of the West, " and other things aspuzzling. 

"Press Notices!" echoed Kink scornfully. "Wouldn't that rope ye? Hetalks like Big Ike that went with the Wild West Show. When a punchergets so lazy he can't earn a livin' by the sweat of his pony, hegrows his hair, goes on the stage bustin' glass balls with shotca'tridges and talks about 'press notices. ' Let's see 'em, Billings. You pinch 'em as close to your stummick as though you held cards in astrange poker game. "

"Well, I _have_ set in a strange game, amongst aliens, " saidBillings, disregarding the request, "and I've held the high cards, also I've drawed out with honours. I've sailed the medium high seaswith mutiny in the stoke-hold; I've changed the laws of labour, politics and municipal economies. I went out of God's country rightinto the heart of the decayin' East, and by the application of arunnin' noose in a hemp rope I strangled oppression and put eightthousand men to work. " He paused ponderously. "I'm an Arbitrator!"

"The deuce you are, " indignantly cried "Reddy" the cook. "Who saysso?"

"Reddy" isn't up in syntax, and his unreasoning loyalty to Billingsis an established fact of such standing that his remarks afford noconjecture. 

"Yes, I've cut into the 'Nation's Peril' and the 'Cryin' Evil' goodand strong--walkin' out from the stinks of the Union Stock Yards, ofChicago, into the limelight of publicity, via the 'drunk anddisorderly' route. 

"You see I got those ten carloads of steers into the city all right, but I was so blame busy splatterin' through the tracked-up wastes ofthe cow pens, an' inhalin' the sewer gas of the west side that Inever got to see a newspaper. If I'd 'a' read one, here's what I'd'a' found, namely: The greatest, stubbornest, riotin'est strike everknown, which means a heap for Chicago, she being the wet-nurse oflabour trouble. 

"The whole river front was tied up. Nary a steamer had whistledinside the six-mile crib for two weeks, and eight thousand men wasout. There was hold-ups and blood-sheddin' and picketin', which lastis an alias for assault with intents, and altogether it was a primeplace for a cowman, on a quiet vacation--just homelike and natural. 

"It was at this point that I enters, bustin' out of the smoke of theStock Yards, all sweet and beautiful, like the gentle heeroine in theplay as she walks through the curtains at the back of the stage. 

"Now you know there's a heap of difference between the Stock Yardsand Chicago--it's just like coming from Arkansas over into the UnitedStates. 

"Well, soon as I sold the stock I hit for the lake front and began toground sluice the coal dust off of my palate. 

"I was busy working my booze hydraulic when I see an arid appearin'pilgrim 'longside lookin' thirsty as an alkali flat. 

"'Get in, ' says I, and the way he obeyed orders looked like he'd hadmilitary training. I felt sort of drawed to him from the way hehandled his licker; took it straight and runnin' over; then soppedhis hands on the bar and smelled of his fingers. He seemed to justsoak it up both ways--reg'lar human blotter. 

"'You lap it up like a man, ' says I, 'like a cowman--fullgrowed--ever been West?'

"'Nope, ' says he, 'born here. '

"'Well I'm a stranger, ' says I, 'out absorbin' such beauties ofarchitecture and free lunch as offers along the line. If I ain'tkeepin' you up, I'd be glad of your company. '

"'I'm your assistant lunch buster, ' says he, and in the course ofthings he further explained that he was a tugboat fireman, out on astrike, givin' me the follerin' information about the tie-up:--

"It all come up over a dose of dyspepsia--"

"Back up, " interrupted Kink squirming, "are you plumb bug? Gettogether! You're certainly the Raving Kid. Ye must have stonebruised your heel and got concession of the brain. "

"Yes sir! Indigestion, " Billings continued. "Old man Badrich, ofthe Badrich Transportation Company has it terrible. It lands on hissolar every morning about nine o'clock, gettin' worse steady, andreaches perihelion along about eleven. He can tell the time of dayby taste. One morning when his mouth felt like about ten-forty-fivein comes a committee from Firemen & Engineers Local No. 21, with ademand for more wages, proddin' him with the intimations that if hedidn't ante they'd tie up all his boats. "

"I 'spose a teaspoonful of bakin' soda, assimilated internally aroundthe environments of his appendix would have spared the strike andcheated me out of bein' a hero. As the poet might have said--'Uponsuch slender pegs is this, our greatness hung. '"

"Oh, Gawd!" exclaimed Mulling, piously. 

"Anyhow, the bitterness in the old man's inner tubes showed in thebile of his answer, and he told 'em if they wanted more money he'dgive 'em a chance to earn it--they could work nights as well as days. He intimated further that they'd ought to be satisfied with theirwages as they'd undoubtedly foller the same line of business in thenext world, and wouldn't get a cent for feedin' the fires neither. 

"Next mornin' the strike was called, and the guy that breathedtreachery and walk-outs was one 'Oily' Heegan, further submergedunder the titles of President of the Federation of Fresh WaterFiremen; also Chairman of the United Water-front Workmen, which lasttakes in everything doin' business along the river except thewharf-rats and typhoid germs, and it's with the disreputableness ofthis party that I infected myself to the detriment of labour and thetriumph of the law. 

"D. O'Hara Heegan is an able man, and inside of a week he'd spreadthe strike 'till it was the cleanest, dirtiest tie-up ever known. The hospitals and morgues was full of non-union men, but the riverwas empty all right. Yes, he had a persuadin' method of arbitrationquite convincing to the most calloused, involving the layin' on ofthe lead pipe. 

"Things got to be pretty fierce bye-and-bye, for they had the policebuffaloed, and disturbances got plentyer than the casualties at abutchers' picnic. The strikers got hungry, too, finally, because theprinciples of unionism is like a rash on your mechanic, skindeep--inside, his gastrics works three shifts a day even if hisoutsides is idle and steaming with Socialism. 

"Oily fed 'em dray loads of eloquence, but it didn't seem to be realfillin'. They'd leave the lectures and rob a bakery. 

"He was a wonder though; just sat in his office, and kept the shipowners waitin' in line, swearin' bitter and refined cuss-words about'ignorant fiend' and 'cussed pedagogue, ' which last, for Kink'senlightenment, means a kind of Hebrew meetin'-house. 

"These here details my new friend give me, ending with a eulogy onOily Heegan, the Idol of the Idle. 

"'If he says starve, we starve, ' says he, 'and if he says work, wework. See! Oh he's the goods, he is! Let's go down by theriver--mebbe we'll see him. ' So me and Murdock hiked down WaterStreet, where they keep mosquito netting over the bar fixtures andspit at the stove. 

"We found him, a big mouthed, shifty, kind of man, 'bout as cynicallookin' in the face as a black bass, and full of wind as a toad fish. I exchanged drinks for principles of socialism, and doin' so happenedto display my roll. Murdock slipped away and made talk with afriend, then, when Heegan had left, he steers me out the back wayinto an alley. 'Short cut, ' says he 'to another and a better place. '

"I follers through a back room; then as I steps out the door I'mgrabbed by this new friend, while Murdock bathes my head with agas-pipe billy, one of the regulation, strike promotin' kind, likethey use for decoyin' members into the glorious ranks of Labour. 

"I saw a 'Burning of Rome' that was a dream, and whole cloudbursts ofshootin' stars, but I yanked Mr. Enthusiastic Stranger away from mysurcingle and throwed him agin the wall. In the shuffle Murdockshifts my ballasts though, and steams up the alley with mygreenbacks, convoyed by his friend. 

"'Wow-ow, ' says I, givin' the distress signal so that the windowsrattled, and reachin' for my holster. I'd 'a' got them both, onlythe gun caught in my suspender. You see, not anticipatin' any livebird shoot I'd put it inside my pants-band, under my vest, forappearances. A forty-five is like fresh air to a drowndingman--generally has to be drawed in haste--and neither one shouldn'tbe mislaid. I got her out at last and blazed away, just a secondafter they dodged around the comer. Then I hit the trail after 'em, lettin' go a few sky-shots and gettin' a ghost-dance holler off mystummick that had been troubling me. The wallop on the head made medizzy though, and I zigzagged awful, tackin' out of the alley rightinto a policeman. 

"'Whee!' says I in joy, for he had Murdock safe by the bits, buckin'considerable. 

"'Stan' aside and le'mme 'lectrocute 'im, ' says I. I throwed the gunon him and the crowd dogged it into all the doorways and windowsconvenient, but I was so weak-minded in the knees I stumbled over thecurb and fell down. 

"Next thing I knew we was all bouncin' over the cobble-stones in apatrol wagon. 

"Well, in the morning I told my story to the Judge, plain andunvarnished. Then Murdock takes the stand and busts into song, claiming that he was comin' through the alley toward Clark Streetwhen I staggered out back of a saloon and commenced to shoot at him. He saw I was drunk, and fanned out, me shootin' at him with everyjump. He had proof, he said, and he called for the president of hisUnion, Mr. Heegan. At the name all the loafers and stew-bums in thecourt-room stomped and said, 'Hear, hear, ' while up steps thisNapoleon of the Hoboes. 

"Sure, he knew Mr. Murdock--had known him for years, and he wasperfectly reliable and honest. As to his robbing me, it waspreposterous, because he himself was at the other end of the alleyand saw the whole thing, just as Mr. Murdock related it. 

"I jumps up. 'You're a liar, Heegan. I was buyin' booze for the twoof you;' but a policeman nailed me, chokin' off my rhetorics. Mr. Heegan leans over and whispers to the Judge, while I got chilblainsalong my spine. 

"'Look here, kind Judge, ' says I real winning and genteel, 'this manis so good at explainin' things away, ask him to talk off this bumpover my ear. I surely didn't get a buggy spoke and laminate myselfon the nut. 

"'That'll do, ' says the Judge. 'Mr. Clerk, ten dollars andcosts--charge, drunk and disorderly. Next!'

"'Hold on there, ' says I, ignorant of the involutions of justice, 'Iguess I've got the bulge on you this time. They beat you to me, Judge. I ain't got a cent. You can go through me and be welcome tohalf you find. I'll mail you ten when I get home though, honest. '

"At that the audience giggled, and the Judge says:--

"'Your humour doesn't appeal to me, Billings. Of course, you havethe privilege of working it out. ' Oh, Glory, the 'Privilege!'

"Heegan nodded at this, and I realized what I was against. 

"'Your honour, ' says I with sarcastic refinements, 'science tells usthat a perfect vacuum ain't possible, but after watching you I knowbetter, and for you, Mr. Workingman's Friend, --us to the floor, ' andI run at Heegan. 

"Pshaw! I never got started, nor I didn't rightfully come to till Irested in the workhouse, which last figger of speech is a pure andbeautiful paradox. 

"I ain't dwellin' with glee on the next twenty-six days--ten dollarsand costs, at four bits a day, but I left there saturated with suchhatreds for Heegan that my breath smelted of 'em. 

"I wanders down the river front, hoping the fortunes of war woulddeliver him to me dead or alive, when the thought hit me that I'dneed money. It was bound to take another ten and costs shortly afterwe met, and probably more, if I paid for what I got, for I figgeredon distendin' myself with satisfaction and his features withuppercuts. Then I see a sign, 'Non-Union men wanted--Big wages. ' InI goes, and strains my langwidge through a wire net at the cashier. 

"'I want them big wages, ' says I. 

"'What can you do?'

"'Anything to get the money, ' says I. 'What does it take toliquidate an assault on a labour leader?'

"There was a white-haired man in the cage who began to sit up andtake notice. 

"'What's your trouble?' says he, and I told him. 

"'If we had a few more like you, we'd bust the strike, ' says he, kindof sizin' me up. 'I've got a notion to try it anyhow, ' and he smitesthe desk. 'Collins what d'ye say if we tow the "Detroit" out? Hercrew has stayed with us so far, and they'll stick now if we'll saythe word. The unions are hungry and scrapping among themselves, andthe men want to go back to work. It's just that devil of a Heeganthat holds 'em. If they see we've got a tug crew that'll go, they'llarbitrate, and we'll kill the strike. '

"'Yes, sir!' says Collins, 'but where's the tug crew, Mr. Badrich?'

"'Right here! We three, and Murphy, the bookkeeper. Blast thisidleness! I want to fight. '

"'I'll take the same, ' says I, 'when I get the price. '

"'That's all right. You've put the spirit into me, and I'll see youthrough. Can you run an engine? Good! I'll take the wheel, and theothers'll fire. It's going to be risky work, though. You won't backout, eh?'"

Reddy interrupted Billings here loudly, with a snort of disgust, while "Bitter Root" ran his fingers through his hair beforecontinuing. Martin was listening intently. 

"The old man arranged to have a squad of cops on all the bridges, andI begin anticipatin' hilarities for next day. 

"The news got out of course, through the secrecies of policeheadquarters, and when we ran up the river for our tow, it lookedlike every striker west of Pittsburg had his family on the docks tosee the barbecue, accompanied by enough cobble-stones and scrap ironto ballast a battleship. All we got goin' up was repartee, but Ifiggered we'd need armour gettin' back. 

"We passed a hawser to the 'Detroit, ' and I turned the gas into thetug, blowin' for the Wells Street Bridge. Then war began. I leansout the door just in time to see the mob charge the bridge. The copsclubbed 'em back, while a roar went up from the docks and roof topsthat was like a bad dream. I couldn't see her move none though, andold man Badrich blowed again expurgatin' himself of as nobby a lineof cuss words as you'll muster outside the cattle belt. 

"'Soak 'em, ' I yells, 'give 'em all the arbitration you've got handy. If she don't open; we'll jump her, ' and I lets out another notch, sothat we went plowin' and boilin' towards the draw. 

"It looked like we'd have to hurdle it sure enough, but the policebeat the crowd back just in time. She wasn't clear open though, andour barge caromed off the spiles. It was like a nigger buttin' apersimmon tree--we rattled off a shower of missiles like an abnormalhail storm. Talk about your coast defence; they heaved everything atus from bad names to railroad iron, and we lost all our window glassthe first clatter, while the smoke stack looked like a pretzel withcramps. 

"When we scraped through I looked back with pity at the 'Detroit's'crew. She hadn't any wheel house, and the helmsman was due to getall the attention that was comin' to him. They'd built up abarricade of potato sacks, chicken coops and bic-a-brac around thewheel that protected 'em somewhat, but even while I watched, somePolack filtered a brick through and laid out the quartermaster cold, and he was drug off. Oh! it was refined and esthetic. 

"Well, we run the gauntlet, presented every block with stuff rangin'in tensile strength from insults to asphalt pavements, andnoise!--say, all the racket in the world was a whisper. I caught aglimpse of the old man leanin' out of the pilot house, where a windowhad been, his white hair bristly, and his nostrils h'isted, embellishin' the air with surprisin' flights of gleeful profanity. 

"'Hooray! this is livin' he yells, spyin' me shovelin' the deck outfrom under the junk. 'Best scrap I've had in years, ' and just thensome baseball player throwed in from centre field, catching him inthe neck with a tomato. Gee! that man's an honour to the faculty ofspeech. 

"I was doin' bully till a cobble-stone bounced into the engine room, makin' a billiard with my off knee, then I got kind of peevish. 

"Rush Street Bridge is the last one, and they'd massed there on bothsides, like fleas on a razorback. Thinks I, 'If we make it throughhere, we've busted the strike, ' and I glances back at the 'Detroit'just in time to see her crew pullin' their captain into the deckhouse, limp and bleedin'. The barricade was all knocked to piecesand they'd flunked absolute. Don't blame 'em much either, as it wassure death to stand out in the open under the rain of stuff that comefrom the bridges. Of course with no steerin' she commenced to swingoff. 

"I jumps out the far side of the engine room and yells fit to bust mythroat. 

"'Grab that wheel! Grab it quick--we'll hit the bridge, ' but it waslike deef and dumb talk in a boiler shop, while a wilder howl went upfrom the water front as they seen what they'd done and smelledvictory. There's an awfulness about the voice of a blood-maddenedclub-swingin' mob; it lifts your scalp like a fright wig, particularly if you are the clubee. 

"'We've got one chance, ' thinks I, 'but if she strikes we're gone. They'll swamp us sure, and all the police in Cook County won't saveenough for to hold services on. ' Then I throwed a look at theopening ahead and the pessimisms froze in me. 

"I forgot all about the resiliency of brickbats and the table mannersof riots, for there, on top of a bunch of spiles, ca'm, masterful andbloated with perjuries, was Oily Heegan dictatin' the disposition ofhis forces, the light of victory in his shifty, little eyes. 

"'Ten dollars and costs, ' I shrieks, seein' red. 'Lemme crawl upthem spiles to you. '

"Then inspiration seized me. My soul riz up and grappled with thecrisis, for right under my mit, coiled, suggestive and pleadin', wasone of the tug's heavin' lines, 'bout a three-eighths size. I slipsa runnin' knot in the end and divides the coils, crouchin' behind thedeck-house till we come abeam of him, then I straightened, give it aswinging heave, and the noose sailed up and settled over him fine anddaisy. 

"I jerked back, and Oily Heegan did a high dive from Rush Street thatwas a geometrical joy. He hit kind of amateurish, doin' what we usedto call a 'belly-buster' back home, but quite satisfyin' for a maideneffort, and I reeled him in astern. 

"Your Chicago man ain't a gamey fish. He come up tame and squirtingsewage like a dissolute porpoise, while I played him out where he'dget the thrash of the propeller. 

"'Help, ' he yells, 'I'm a drownding. '

"'Ten dollars and costs, " says I, lettin' him under again. 'Do youknow who you're drinkin' with this time, hey?'

"I reckon the astonishment of the mob was equal to Heegan's; anyhowI'm told that we was favoured with such quietness that my voicesounded four blocks, simply achin' with satisfactions. Thenpandemonium tore loose, but I was so engrosed in sweet converse Inever heard it or noticed that the 'Detroit' had slid through thedraw by a hair, and we was bound for the blue and smilin' lake. 

"'For God's sake, lemme up, ' says Heegan, splashin' along andlook-in' strangly. I hauls him in where he wouldn't miss any of myironies, and says:--

"'I just can't do it, Oily--it's wash day. You're plumb nasty withboycotts and picketin's and compulsory arbitrations. I'm goin' toclean you up, ' and I sozzled him under like a wet shirt. 

"I drug him out again and continues:--

"'This is Chinamen's work, Oily, but I lost my pride in theBridewell, thanks to you. It's tough on St. Louis to laundry you upstream this way, but maybe the worst of your heresies 'll be purifiedwhen they get that far. ' You know the Chicago River runs up hill outof Lake Michigan through the drainage canal and into the St. Louiswaterworks. Sure it does--most unnatural stream I ever see aboutdirection and smells. 

"I was gettin' a good deal of enjoyment and infections out of himwhen old man Badrich ran back enamelled with blood and passe tomatojuice, the red in his white hair makin' his top look like one ofthese fancy ice-cream drinks you get at a soda fountain. 

"'Here! here! you'll kill him, ' says he, so I hauled him aboard, drippin' and clingy, wringin' him out good and thorough--by the neck. He made a fine mop. 

"These clippings, " continued "Bitter Root, " fishing into his pocket, "tell in beautiful figgers how the last seen of Oily Heegan he washolystoning the deck of a sooty little tugboat under theadmonishments and feet of 'Bitter Root' Billings of Montana, and theystate how the strikers tried to get tugs for pursuit and couldn't, and how, all day long, from the housetops was visible a tugboat madlycruisin' about inside the outer cribs, bustin' the silence withjoyful blasts of victory, and they'll further state that about darkshe steamed up the river, tired and draggled, with a bony-lookin'cowboy inhalin' cigareets on the stern-bits, holding a three-footknotted rope in his lap. When a delegation of strikers met her, inquirin' about one D. O'Hara Heegan, it says like this, " andBillings read laboriously as follows:--

"'Then the bronzed and lanky man arose with a smile of rarecontentment, threw overboard his cigarette, and approaching theboiler-room hatch, called loudly: "Come out of that, " and thePresident of the Federation of Fresh Water Firemen dragged himselfwearily out into the flickering lights. He was black and drenchedand streaked with sweat; also, he shone with the grease and oils ofthe engines, while the palms of his hands were covered with painfulblisters from unwonted, intimate contact with shovels and drawbars. It was seen that he winced fearfully as the cowboy twirled the ropeend. 

"'"He's got the makin's of a fair fireman, '" said the stranger, "'allhe wants is practice. '"

"Then, as the delegation murmured angrily, he held up his hand and, in the ensuing silence, said:--

"'"Boys, the strike's over. Mr. Heegan has arbitrated. "'"

THE SHYNESS OF SHORTY

Bailey smoked morosely as he scanned the dusty trail leading downacross the "bottom" and away over the dry grey prairie toward thehazy mountains in the west. 

From his back-tilted chair on the veranda, the road was visible formiles, as well as the river trail from the south, sneaking up throughthe cottonwoods and leprous sycamores. 

He called gruffly into the silence of the house, and his speech heldthe surliness of his attitude. 

"Hot Joy! Bar X outfit comin'. Git supper. "

A Chinaman appeared in the door and gazed at the six-mule teamdescending the distant gully to the ford. 

"Jesse one man, hey? All light, " and slid quietly back to thekitchen. 

Whatever might be said, or, rather, whatever might be suspected, ofBailey's road-house--for people did not run to wordy conjecture inthis country--it was known that it boasted a good cook, and thisatoned for a catalogue of shortcomings. So it waxed popular amongthe hands of the big cattle ranges near-bye. Those given to idletalk held that Bailey acted strangely at times, and rumour paintedoccasional black doings at the hacienda, squatting vulture-like abovethe ford, but it was nobody's business, and he kept a good cook. 

Bailey did not recall the face that greeted him from above the threespan as they swung in front of his corral, but the brand on theirflanks was the Bar X, so he nodded with as near an approach tohospitality as he permitted. 

It was a large face, strong-featured and rugged, balanced on wide, square shoulders, yet some oddness of posture held the gaze of theother till the stranger clambered over the wheel to the ground. ThenBailey removed his brier and heaved tempestuously in the throes ofgreat and silent mirth. 

It was a dwarf. The head of a Titan, the body of a whisky barrel, rolling ludicrously on the tiny limbs of a bug, presented sostartling a sight that even Hot Joy, appearing around the corner, cackled shrilly. His laughter rose to a shriek of dismay, however, as the little man made at him with the rush and roar of a cannonball. In Bailey's amazed eyes he seemed to bounce galvanically, landing on Joy's back with such vicious suddenness that the breathfled from him in a squawk of terror; then, seizing his cue, he kickedand belaboured the prostrate Celestial in feverish silence. Hedesisted and rolled across the porch to Bailey. Staring truculentlyup et the landlord, he spoke for the first time. 

"Was I right in supposin' that something amused you?"

Bailey gasped incredulously, for the voice rumbled heavily an octavebelow his own bass. Either the look of the stocky catapult, as helaunched himself on the fleeing servant, or the invidious servilityof the innkeeper, sobered the landlord, and he answered gravely:

"No, sir; I reckon you're mistaken. I ain't observed anythingfrivolous yet. "

"Glad of it, " said the little man. "I don't like a feller to hog ajoke all by himself. Some of the Bar X boys took to absorbin' humourout of my shape when I first went to work, but they're sort ofeducated out of it now. I got an eye from one and a finger off ofanother; the last one donated a ear. "

Bailey readily conceived this man as a bad antagonist, for the heavycorded neck had split buttons from the blue shirt, and he glimpsed achest hairy, and round as a drum, while the brown arms showed knottyand hardened. 

"Let's liquor, " he said, and led the way into the big, low room, serving as bar, dining- and living-room. From the rear came viciousclatterings and slammings of pots, mingled with Orientallamentations, indicating an aching body rather than a chastenedspirit. 

"Don't see you often, " he continued, with a touch of impliedcuriosity, which grew as his guest, with lingering fondness, up-endeda glass brimful of the raw, fiery spirits. 

"No, the old man don't lemme get away much. He knows that dwellin'close to the ground, as I do, I pine for spiritual elevation, " with amelting glance at the bottles behind the bar, doing much to explainthe size of his first drink. 

"Like it, do ye?" questioned Bailey indicating the shelf. 

"Well, not exactly! Booze is like air--I need it. It makes a newman out of me--and usually ends by gettin' both me and the new onelaid off. "

"Didn't hear nothing of the weddin' over at Los Huecos, did ye?"

"No! Whose weddin'?"

"Ross Turney, the new sheriff. "

"Ye don't say! Him that's been elected on purpose to round up theTremper gang, hey? Who's his antagonist?"

"Old man Miller's gal. He's celebratin' his election by gettin'spliced. I been expectin' of 'em across this way to-night, but Iguess they took the Black Butte trail. You heard what he said, didn't ye? Claims that inside of ninety days he'll rid the county ofthe Trempers and give the reward to his wife for a bridal present. Five thousand dollars on 'em, you know. " Bailey grinned evilly andcontinued: "Say! Marsh Tremper'll ride up to his house some nightand make him eat his own gun in front of his bride, see if he don't. Then there'll be cause for an inquest and an election. " He spokewith what struck the teamster as unnecessary heat. 

"Dunno, " said the other; "Turney's a brash young feller, I hear, buthe's game. 'Tain't any of my business, though, and I don't want noneof his contrac'. I'm violently addicted to peace and quiet, I am. Guess I'll unhitch, " and he toddled out into the gathering dusk tohis mules, while the landlord peered uneasily down the darkeningtrail. 

As the saddened Joy lit candles in the front room there came therattle of wheels without, and a buckboard stopped in the bar of lightfrom the door. Bailey's anxiety was replaced by a mask of listlesssurprise as the voice of Ross Turney called to him. 

"Hello there, Bailey! Are we in time for supper? If not, I'll startan insurrection with that Boxer of yours. He's got to turn out thesnortingest supper of the season to-night. It isn't every day yourshack is honoured by a bride. Mr. Bailey, this is my wife, since teno'clock A. M. " He introduced a blushing, happy girl, evidently inthe grasp of many emotions. "We'll stay all night, I guess, "

"Sure, " said Bailey. "I'll show ye a room, " and he led them upbeneath the low roof where an unusual cleanliness betrayed theindustry of Joy. 

The two men returned and drank to the bride, Turney with the recklesslightness that distinguished him, Bailey sullen and watchful. 

"Got another outfit here, haven't you?" questioned the bridegroom. "Who is it?"

Before answer could be made, from the kitchen arose a tortured howland the smashing of dishes, mingled with stormy rumblings. The doorburst inward, and an agonized Joy fled, flapping out into the night, while behind him rolled the caricature from Bar X. 

"I just stopped for a drink of water, " boomed the dwarf, then pausedat the twitching face of the sheriff. 

He swelled ominously, like a great pigeon, purple and congested withrage. Strutting to the new-comer, he glared insolently up into hissmiling face, "What are ye laughin' at, ye shavetail?" His hands were clenched, till his arms showed tense and rigid, and the cords in his neck werethickly swollen. 

"Lemme in on it, I'm strong on humour. What in ---- ails ye?" heyelled, in a fury, as the tall young man gazed fixedly, and theglasses rattled at the bellow from the barreled-up lungs. 

"I'm not laughing at you, " said the sheriff. 

"Oh, ain't ye?" mocked the man of peace. "Well, take care that yedon't, ye big wart, or I'll trample them new clothes and browsearound on some of your features. I'll take ye apart till ye looklike cut feed. Guess ye don't know who I am, do ye? I'm--"

"Who is this man, Ross?" came the anxious voice of the bride, descending the stairs. 

The little man spun like a dancer, and, spying the girl, blushed tothe colour of a prickly pear, then stammered painfully, while thesweat stood out under the labour of his discomfort:

"Just 'Shorty, ' Miss, " he finally quavered. "Plain 'Shorty' of theBar X--er--a miserable, crawlin' worm for disturbin' of you. " Herolled his eyes helplessly at Bailey, while he sopped with hiscrumpled sombrero at the glistening perspiration. 

"Why didn't ye tell me?" he whispered ferociously at the host, andthe volume of his query carried to Joy, hiding out in the night. 

"Mr. Shorty, " said the sheriff gravely; "let me introduce my wife, Mrs. Turney. "

The bride smiled sweetly at the tremulous little man, who broke andfled to a high bench in the darkest corner, where he dangled hisshort legs in a silent ecstasy of bashfulness. 

"I reckon I'll have to rope that Chink, then blindfold and back himinto the kitchen, if we git any supper, " said Bailey, disappearing. 

Later the Chinaman stole in to set the table, but he worked withhectic and fitful energy, a fearful eye always upon the dim bulk inthe corner, and at a fancied move he shook with an ague ofapprehension. Backing and sidling, he finally announced the meal, prepared to stampede madly at notice. 

During the supper Shorty ate ravenously of whatever lay to his hand, but asked no favours. The agony of his shyness paralysed his hugevocal muscles till speech became a labour quite impossible. 

To a pleasant remark of the bride he responded, but no sound issued, then breathing heavily into his larynx, the reply roared upon themlike a burst of thunder, seriously threatening the gravity of themeal. He retired abruptly into moist and self-conscious silence, fearful of feasting his eyes on this disturbing loveliness. 

As soon as compatible with decency, he slipped back to his bunk inthe shed behind, and lay staring into the darkness, picturing theamazing occurrences of the evening. At the memory of her levelglances he fell a-tremble and sighed ecstatically, prickling with anew, strange emotion. He lay till far into the night, wakeful andabsorbed. He was able, to grasp the fact but dimly that all thisdazzling perfection was for one man. Were it not manifestlyimpossible he supposed other men in other lands knew other ladies asbeautiful, and it furthermore grew upon him blackly, in the thickgloom, that in all this world of womanly sweetness and beauty, nomodicum of it was for the misshapen dwarf of the Bar X outfit. Allhis life he had fought furiously to uphold the empty shell of hisdignity in the eyes of his comrades, yet always morbidly conscious ofthe difference in his body. Whisky had been his solace, hissweetheart. It changed him, raised and beatified him into thelikeness of other men, and now, as he pondered, he was aware of aconsuming thirst engendered by the heat of his earlier emotions. Undoubtedly it must be quenched. 

He rose and stole quietly out into the big front room. Perhaps theyears of free life in the open had bred a suspicion of walls, perhapshe felt his conduct would not brook discovery, perhaps habit, prompted him to take the two heavy Colts from their holsters andthrust them inside his trousers band. 

He slipped across the room, silent and cavern-like, its blacknessbroken by the window squares of starry sky, till he felt the paucityof glassware behind the bar. 

"Here's to Her, " It burned delightfully. 

"Here's to the groom. " It tingled more alluringly. 

"I'll drink what I can, and get back to the bunk before it works, " hethought, and the darkness veiled the measure of his potations. 

He started at a noise on the stairway. His senses not yet dulled, detected a stealthy tread. Not the careless step of a man unafraid, but the cautious rustle and halt of a marauder. Every nerve bristledto keenest alertness as the faint occasional sounds approached, passed the open end of the bar where he crouched, leading on to thewindow. Then a match flared, and the darkness rushed out as a candlewick sputtered. 

Shorty stretched on tiptoe, brought his eye to the level of the bar, and gazed upon the horrent head of Bailey. He sighed thankfully, butwatched with interest his strange behaviour. 

Bailey moved the light across the window from left to right threetimes, paused, then wigwagged some code out into the night. 

"He's signalling, " mused Shorty. "Hope he gets through quick. I'mgetting full. " The fumes of the liquor were beating at his senses, and he knew that soon he would move with difficulty. 

The man, however, showed no intention of leaving, for, his signalscompleted, he blew out the light, first listening for any sound fromabove, then his figure loomed black and immobile against the dimstarlight of the window. 

"Oh, Lord! I got to set down, " and the watcher squatted upon thefloor, bracing against the wall. His dulling perceptions weresufficiently acute to detect shuffling footsteps on the porch and thecautious unbarring of the door. 

"Gettin' late for visitors, " he thought, as he entered a blissfuldoze. "When they're abed, I'll turn in. "

It seemed much later that a shot startled him. To his dizzy hearingcame the sound of curses overhead, the stamp and shift of feet, thecrashing fall of struggling men, and, what brought him unsteadily tohis legs, the agonized scream of a woman. It echoed through thehouse, chilling him, and dwindled to an aching moan. 

Something was wrong, he knew that, but it was hard to tell just what. He must think. What hard work it was to think, too; he'd nevernoticed before what a laborious process it was. Probably thatsheriff had got into trouble; he was a fresh guy, anyhow; and he'dlaughed when he first saw Shorty. That settled it. He could get outof it himself. Evidently it was nothing serious, for there was nomore disturbance above, only confused murmurings. Then a lightshowed in the stairs, and again the shuffling of feet came, as fourstrange men descended. They were lighted by the sardonic Bailey, andthey dragged a sixth between them, bound and helpless. It was thesheriff. 

Now, what had he been doing to get into such a fix?

The prisoner stood against the wall, white and defiant. He strainedat his bonds silently, while his captors watched his futilestruggles. There was something terrible and menacing in thequietness with which they gloated--a suggestion of some horror tocome. At last he desisted, and burst forth. 

"You've got me all right. You did this, Bailey, you ---- traitor. "

"He's never been a traitor, as far as we know, " sneered one of thefour. "In fact, I might say he's been strictly on the square withus. "

"I didn't think you made war on women, either, Marsh Tremper, but itseems you're everything from a dog-thief down. Why couldn't youfight me alone, in the daylight, like a man?"

"You don't wait till a rattler's coiled before you stamp his headoff, " said the former speaker. "It's either you or us, and I reckonit's you. "

So these were the Tremper boys, eh? The worst desperadoes in theSouthwest; and Bailey was their ally. The watcher eyed them, mildlycurious, and it seemed to him that they were as bad a quartette asrumour had painted--bad, even, for this country of bad men. Thesheriff was a fool for getting mixed up with such people. Shortyknew enough to mind his own business, anyway, if others didn't. Hewas a peaceful man, and didn't intend to get mixed up with outlaws. His mellow meditations were interrupted by the hoarse speech of thesheriff, who had broken down into his rage again, and struggled madlywhile words ran from him. 

"Let me go! ---- you, let me free. I want to fight the coward thatstruck my wife. You've killed her. Who was it? Let me get at him. "

Shorty stiffened as though a douche of ice-water had struck him. "Killed her! Struck his wife!" My God! Not that sweet creature ofhis dreams who had talked and smiled at him without noting hisdeformity--

An awful anger rose in him and he moved out into the light. 

"Han'sup!"

Whatever of weakness may have dragged at his legs, none sounded inthe great bellowing command that flooded the room. At the compellingvolume of the sound every man whirled and eight empty hands shotskyward. Their startled eyes beheld a man's squat body weavinguncertainly on the limbs of an insect, while in each hand shone ablue-black Colt that waved and circled in maddening, erratic orbits. 

At the command, Marsh Tremper's mind had leaped to the fact thatbehind him was one man; one against five, and he took a gambler'schance. 

As he whirled, he drew and fired. None but the dwarf of Bar X couldhave lived, for he was the deadliest hip shot in the territory. Hisbullet crashed into the wall, a hand's breadth over Shorty's"cow-lick. " It was a clean heart shot; the practised whirl and flipof the finished gun fighter; but the roar of his explosion was echoedby another, and the elder Tremper spun unsteadily against the tablewith a broken shoulder. 

"Too high, " moaned the big voice. "--The liquor. "

He swayed drunkenly, but at the slightest shift of his quarry, theaimless wanderings of a black muzzle stopped on the spot and the bodybehind the guns was congested with deadly menace. 

"Face the wall, " he cried. "Quick! Keep 'em up higher!" Theysullenly obeyed; their wounded leader reaching with his uninjuredmember. 

To the complacent Shorty, it seemed that things were working nicely, though he was disturbingly conscious of his alcoholic lack ofbalance, and tortured by the fear that he might suddenly lose theiron grip of his faculties. 

Then, for the second time that night, from the stairs came the voicethat threw him into the dreadful confusion of his modesty. 

"O Ross!" it cried, "I've brought your gun, " and there on the steps, dishevelled, pallid and quivering, was the bride, and grasped in onetrembling hand was her husband's weapon. 

"Ah--h!" sighed Shorty, seraphically, as the vision beat in upon hismisty conceptions. "_She ain't hurt_!"

In his mind there was no room for desperadoes contemporaneously withHer. Then he became conscious of the lady's raiment, and his browncheeks flamed brick-red, while he dropped his eyes. In hisshrinking, grovelling modesty, he made for his dark corner. 

One of those at bay, familiar with this strange abashment, seized themoment, but at his motion the sheriff screamed: "Look out!"

The quick danger in the cry brought back with a surge the men againstthe wall and Shorty swung instantly, firing at the outstretched handof Bailey as it reached for Tremper's weapon. 

The landlord straightened, gazing affrightedly at his finger tips. 

"Too low!" and Shorty's voice held aching tears. "I'll never touchanother drop; it's plumb ruined my aim. "

"Cut these strings, girlie, " said the sheriff, as the little man'sgaze again wavered, threatening to leave his prisoners. 

"Quick. He's blushing again. ". 

When they were manacled, Shorty stood in moist exudation, tremblingand speechless, under the incoherent thanks of the bride and thesilent admiration of her handsome husband. She fluttered about himin a tremor of anxiety, lest he be wounded, caressing him here andthere with solicitous pats till he felt his shamed and happy spiritwould surely burst from its misshapen prison. 

"You've made a good thing to-night, " said Turney, clapping himheartily on his massive back. "You get the five thousand all right. We were going to Mexico City on that for a bridal trip when I roundedup the gang, but I'll see you get every cent of it, old man. If itwasn't for you I'd have been a heap farther south than that by now. "

The open camaraderie and good-fellowship that rang in the man's voiceaffected Shorty strangely, accustomed as he was to the veiledcontempt or open compassion of his fellows. Here was one whorecognized him as a man, an equal. 

He spread his lips, but the big voice squeaked dismally, then, inflating deeply, he spoke so that the prisoners chained in thecorral outside heard him plainly. 

"I'd rather she took it anyhow, " blushing violently. 

"No, no, " they cried. "It's yours. "

"Well, then, half of it"--and for once Shorty betrayed the strengthof Gibraltar, even in the face of the lady, and so it stood. 

As the dawn spread over the dusty prairie, tipping the westwardmountains with silver caps, and sucking the mist out of thecotton-wood bottoms, he bade them adieu. 

"No, I got to get back to the Bar X, or the old man'll swear I beendrinking again, and I don't want to dissipate no wrong impressionsaround. " He winked gravely. Then, as the sheriff and his surlyprisoners drove off, he called:

"Mr. Turney, take good care of them Trempers. I think a heap of 'em, for, outside of your wife, they're the only ones in this outfit thatdidn't laugh at me. "

THE TEST

Pierre "Feroce" showed disapproval in his every attitude as plainly asdisgust peered from the seams in his dark face; it lurked in his scowland in the curl of his long rawhide that bit among the sled dogs. Soat least thought Willard, as he clung to the swinging sledge. 

They were skirting the coast, keeping to the glare ice, wind-swept andclean, that lay outside the jumbled shore pack. The team ran silentlyin the free gait of the grey wolf, romping in harness from pure joy ofmotion and the intoxication of perfect life, making the sled runnerswhine like the song of a cutlass. 

This route is dangerous, of course, from hidden cracks in the floes, and most travellers hug the bluffs, but he who rides with Pierre"Feroce" takes chances. It was this that had won him the name of"Wild" Pierre--the most reckless, tireless man of the trails, a scofferat peril, bolting through danger with rush and frenzy, overcomingsheerly by vigour those obstacles which destroy strong men in the North. 

The power that pulsed within him gleamed from his eyes, rang in hissong, showed in the aggressive thrust of his sensual face. 

This particular morning, however, Pierre's distemper had crystallizedinto a great contempt for his companion. Of all trials, the mostdetestable is to hit the trail with half a man, a pale, anemic weaklinglike this stranger. 

Though modest in the extent of his learning, Pierre gloated in afreedom of speech, the which no man dared deny him. He turned to eyehis companion cynically for a second time, and contempt was patent inhis gaze. Willard appeared slender and pallid in his furs, though hisclear-cut features spoke a certain strength and much refinement. 

"Bah! I t'ink you dam poor feller, " he said finally. "'Ow you 'goin'stan' thees trip, eh? She's need beeg mans, not leetle runt like you. "

Amusement at this frankness glimmered in Willard's eyes. 

"You're like all ignorant people. You think in order to stand hardshipa man should be able to toss a sack of flour in his teeth or juggle acask of salt-horse. "

"Sure t'ing, " grinned Pierre. "That's right. Look at me. Mebbe youhear 'bout Pierre 'Feroce' sometime, eh?"

"Oh, yes; everybody knows you; knows you're a big bully. I've seen youdrink a quart of this wood alcohol they call whisky up here, and thenjump the bar from a stand, but you're all animal--you haven't therefinement and the culture that makes real strength. It's the mindthat makes us stand punishment. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Canadian. "Wat a fonny talk. She'll takethe heducate man for stan' the col', eh? Mon Dieu!" He roared againtill the sled dogs turned fearful glances backward and bushy tailsdrooped under the weight of their fright. Great noise came oftenestwith great rage from Pierre, and they had too frequently felt the bothto forget. 

"Yes, you haven't the mentality. Sometime you'll use up your physicalresources and go to pieces like a burned wick. "

Pierre was greatly amused. His yellow teeth shone, and he gave vent toviolent mirth as, following the thought, he pictured a naked mindwandering over the hills with the quicksilver at sixty degrees. 

"Did you ever see a six-day race? Of course not; you barbarianshaven't sunk to the level of our dissolute East, where we joy in Romanspectacles, but if you had you'd see it's will that wins; it's the manthat eats his soul by inches. The educated soldier stands the campaignbest. You run too much to muscle--you're not balanced. "

"I t'ink mebbe you'll 'ave chance for show 'im, thees stout will ofyours. She's goin' be long 'mush' troo the mountains, plentee snow, plentee cold. "

Although Pierre's ridicule was galling, Willard felt the charm of themorning too strongly to admit of anger or to argue his pet theory. 

The sun, brilliant and cold, lent a paradoxical cheerfulness to thedesolation, and, though never a sign of life broke the stillness aroundthem, the beauty of the scintillant, gleaming mountains, distinct ascameos, that guarded the bay, appealed to him with the strangeattraction of the Arctics; that attraction that calls and callsinsistently, till men forsake God's country for its mystery. 

He breathed the biting air cleaned by leagues of lifeless barrens andvoids of crackling frost till he ached with the exhilaration of aperfect morning on the Circle. 

Also before him undulated the grandest string of dogs the Coast hadknown. Seven there were, tall and grey, with tails like plumes, whomnone but Pierre could lay hand upon, fierce and fearless as theirmaster. He drove with the killing cruelty of a stampeder, and theyloved him. 

"You say you have grub cached at the old Indian hut on the Good Hope?"questioned Willard. 

"Sure! Five poun' bacon, leetle flour and rice. I cache one gum-boottoo, ha! Good thing for make fire queeck, eh?"

"You bet; an old rubber boot comes handy when it's too cold to makeshavings. "

Leaving the coast, they ascended a deep and tortuous river where thesnow lay thick and soft. One man on snow-shoes broke trail for thedogs till they reached the foothills. It was hard work, but infinitelypreferable to that which followed, for now they came into a dangerousstretch of overflows. The stream, frozen to its bed, clogged thepassage of the spring water beneath, forcing it up through cracks tillit spread over the solid ice, forming pools and sheets covered withtreacherous ice-skins. Wet feet are fatal to man and beast, and theymade laborious detours, wallowing trails through tangled willows waistdeep in the snow smother, or clinging precariously to the overhangingbluffs. As they reached the river's source the sky blackened suddenly, and great clouds of snow rushed over the bleak hills, boiling down intothe valley with a furious draught. They flung up their flimsy tent, only to have it flattened by the force of the gale that cut likewell-honed steel. Frozen spots leaped out white on their faces, whiletheir hands stiffened ere they could fasten the guy strings. 

Finally, having lashed the tent bottom to the protruding willow tops, by grace of heavy lifting they strained their flapping shelter upsufficiently to crawl within. 

"By Gar! She's blow hup ver' queeck, " yelled Pierre, as he set theten-pound sheet-iron stove, its pipe swaying drunkenly with the heavingtent. 

"Good t'ing she hit us in the brush. " He spoke as calmly as thoughdanger was distant, and a moment later the little box was roaring withits oil-soaked kindlings. 

"Will this stove burn green willow tops?" cried Willard. 

"Sure! She's good stove. She'll burn hicicles eef you get 'im startone times. See 'im get red?"

They rubbed the stiff spots from their cheeks, then, seizing the axe, Willard crawled forth into the storm and dug at the base of the gnarledbushes. Occasionally a shrub assumed the proportions of a man'swrist--but rarely. Gathering an armful, he bore them inside, andtwisting the tips into withes, he fed the fire. The frozen twigssizzled and snapped, threatening to fail utterly, but with much blowinghe sustained a blaze sufficient to melt a pot of snow. Boiling was outof the question, but the tea leaves became soaked and the baconcauterized. 

Pierre freed and fed the dogs. Each gulped its dried salmon, and, curling in the lee of the tent, was quickly drifted over. Next he cutblocks from the solid bottom snow and built a barricade to windward. Then he accumulated a mow of willow tops without the tent-fly. All thetime the wind drew down the valley like the breath of a giant bellows. 

"Supper, " shouted Willard, and as Pierre crawled into the candle-lighthe found him squatted, fur-bundled, over the stove, which settledsteadily into the snow, melting its way downward toward a firmerfoundation. 

The heat was insufficient to thaw the frozen sweat in his clothes; hiseyes were bleary and wet from smoke, and his nose needed continuousblowing, but he spoke pleasantly, a fact which Pierre noted withapproval. 

"We'll need a habeas corpus for this stove if you don't get somethingto hold her up, and I might state, if it's worthy of mention, that yournose is frozen again. "

Pierre brought an armful of stones from the creek edge, distributingthem beneath the stove on a bed of twisted willows; then swallowingtheir scanty, half-cooked food, they crawled, shivering, into thedeerskin sleeping-bags, that animal heat might dry their clammygarments. 

Four days the wind roared and the ice filings poured over their shelterwhile they huddled beneath. When one travels on rations delay isdangerous. Each morning, dragging themselves out into the maelstrom, they took sticks and poked into the drifts for dogs. Each animal asfound was exhumed, given a fish, and became straightway reburied in thewhirling white that seethed down from the mountains. 

On the fifth, without warning, the storm died, and the air stilled to aperfect silence. 

"These dog bad froze, " said Pierre, swearing earnestly as he harnessed. "I don' like eet much. They goin' play hout I'm 'fraid. " He knelt andchewed from between their toes the ice pellets that had accumulated. Amalamoot is hard pressed to let his feet mass, and this added to themen's uneasiness. 

As they mounted the great divide, mountains rolled away on every hand, barren, desolate, marble-white; always the whiteness; always thelistening silence that oppressed like a weight. Myriads of creekvalleys radiated below in a bewildering maze of twisting seams. 

"Those are the Ass's Ears, I suppose, " said Willard, gazing at twogreat fangs that bit deep into the sky-line. "Is it true that no manhas ever reached them?"

"Yes. The hinjun say that's w'ere hall the storm come from, biccausew'en the win' blow troo the Ass's Ear, look out! Somebody goin' ketch'ell. "

Dogs' feet wear quickly after freezing, for crusted snow cuts like aknife. Spots of blood showed in their tracks, growing more plentifultill every print was a crimson stain. They limped pitifully on theirraw pads, and occasionally one whined. At every stop they sank intrack, licking their lacerated paws, rising only at the cost of muchwhipping. 

On the second night, faint and starved, they reached the hut. Diggingaway the drifts, they crawled inside to find it half full of snow--snowwhich had sifted through the crevices. Pierre groped among the shadowsand swore excitedly. 

"What's up?" said Willard. 

Vocal effort of the simplest is exhausting when spent with hunger, andthese were the first words he had spoken for hours. 

"By Gar! she's gone. Somebody stole my grub!"

Willard felt a terrible sinking, and his stomach cried for food. 

"How far is it to the Crooked River Road House?"

"One long day drive--forty mile. "

"We must make it to-morrow or go hungry, eh? Well this isn't the firstdog fish I ever ate. " Both men gnawed a mouldy dried salmon from theirprecious store. 

As Willard removed his footgear he groaned. 

"Wat's the mattaire?"

"I froze my foot two days ago--snow-shoe strap too tight. " Heexhibited a heel, from which, in removing his inner sock, the flesh andskin had come away. 

"That's all right, " grinned Pierre. "You got the beeg will lef' yet. It take the heducate man for stan' the col', you know. "

Willard gritted his teeth. 

They awoke to the whine of a grey windstorm that swept the cutting snowin swirling clouds and made travel a madness. The next day was worse. 

Two days of hunger weigh heavy when the cold weakens, and they grewgaunt and fell away in their features. 

"I'm glad we've got another feed for the dogs, " remarked Willard. "Wecan't let them run hungry, even if we do. "

"I t'ink she's be hall right to-mor', " ventured Pierre. "Thees ain'tsnow--jus' win'; bimeby all blow hout. Sacre! I'll can eat 'nuff for'ole harmy. "

For days both men had been cold, and the sensation of complete warmthhad come to seem strange and unreal, while their faces cracked wherethe spots had been. 

Willard felt himself on the verge of collapse. He recalled his wordsabout strong men, gazing the while at Pierre. The Canadian evincedsuffering only in the haggard droop of eye and mouth; otherwise helooked strong and dogged. 

Willard felt his own features had shrunk to a mask of loose-jawedsuffering, and he set his mental sinews, muttering to himself. 

He was dizzy and faint as he stretched himself in the still morning airupon waking, and hobbled painfully, but as his companion emerged fromthe darkened shelter into the crystalline brightness he forgot his ownmisery at sight of him. The big man reeled as though struck when thedazzle from the hills reached him, and he moaned, shielding his sight. Snow-blindness had found him in a night. 

Slowly they plodded out of the valley, for hunger gnawed acutely, andthey left a trail of blood tracks from the dogs. It took the combinedefforts of both men to lash them to foot after each pause. Thusprogress was slow and fraught with agony. 

As they rose near the pass, miles of Arctic wastes bared themselves. All about towered bald domes, while everywhere stretched the monotonouswhite, the endless snow unbroken by tree or shrub, pallid and menacing, maddening to the eye. 

"Thank God, the worst's over, " sighed Willard, flinging himself ontothe sled. "We'll make it to the summit next time; then she's down hillall the way to the road house. "

Pierre said nothing. 

Away to the northward glimmered the Ass's Ears, and as the speaker eyedthem carelessly he noted gauzy shreds and streamers veiling their tops. The phenomena interested him, for he knew that here must be wind--wind, the terror of the bleak tundra; the hopeless, merciless master of thebarrens! However, the distant range beneath the twin peaks showedclear-cut and distinct against the sky, and he did not mention theoccurrence to the guide, although he recalled the words of the Indians:"Beware of the wind through the Ass's Ears. "

Again they laboured up the steep slope, wallowing in the sliding snow, straining silently at the load; again they threw themselves, exhausted, upon it. Now, as he eyed the panorama below, it seemed to havesuffered a subtle change, indefinable and odd. Although but a fewminutes had elapsed, the coast mountains no longer loomed clear againstthe horizon, and his visual range appeared foreshortened, as though theutter distances had lengthened, bringing closer the edge of things. The twin peaks seemed endlessly distant and hazy, while the air hadthickened as though congested with possibilities, lending a remotenessto the landscape. 

"If it blows up on us here, we're gone, " he thought, "for it's miles toshelter, and we're right in the saddle of the hills. "

Pierre, half blinded as he was, arose uneasily and cast the air like awild beast, his great head thrown back, his nostrils quivering. 

"I smell the win', " he cried. "Mon Dieu! She's goin' blow!"

A volatile pennant floated out from a near-bye peak, hanging about itscrest like faint smoke. Then along the brow of the pass writhed a wispof drifting, twisting flakelets, idling hither and yon, astatic andaimless, settling in a hollow. They sensed a thrill and rustle to theair, though never a breath had touched them; then, as they mountedhigher, a draught fanned them, icy as interstellar space. The viewfrom the summit was grotesquely distorted, and glancing upward theyfound the guardian peaks had gone a-smoke with clouds of snow thatwhirled confusedly, while an increasing breath sucked over the summit, stronger each second. Dry snow began to rustle slothfully about theirfeet. So swiftly were the changes wrought, that before the mind hadgrasped their import the storm was on them, roaring down from everyside, swooping out of the boiling sky, a raging blast from the voids ofsunless space. 

Pierre's shouts as he slashed at the sled lashings were snatched fromhis lips in scattered scraps. He dragged forth the whipping tent andthrew himself upon it with the sleeping-bags. Having cut loose thedogs, Willard crawled within his sack and they drew the flapping canvasover them. The air was twilight and heavy with efflorescent granulesthat hurtled past in a drone. 

They removed their outer garments that the fur might fold closeragainst them, and lay exposed to the full hate of the gale. They hopedto be drifted over, but no snow could lodge in this hurricane, and itsifted past, dry and sharp, eddying out a bare place wherein they lay. Thus the wind drove the chill to their bones bitterly. 

An unnourished human body responds but weakly, so, vitiated by theirfast and labours, their suffering smote them with tenfold cruelty. 

All night the north wind shouted, and, as the next day waned with itsviolence undiminished, the frost crept in upon them till they rolledand tossed shivering. Twice they essayed to crawl out, but were drivenback to cower for endless, hopeless hours. 

It is in such black, aimless times that thought becomes distorted. Willard felt his mind wandering through bleak dreams and torturedfancies, always to find himself harping on his early argument withPierre: "It's the mind that counts. " Later he roused to the fact thathis knees, where they pressed against the bag, were frozen; also hisfeet were numb and senseless. In his acquired consciousness he knewthat along the course of his previous mental vagary lay madness, andthe need of action bore upon him imperatively. 

He shouted to his mate, but "Wild" Pierre seemed strangely apathetic. 

"We've got to run for it at daylight. We're freezing. Here! Hold on!What are you doing? Wait for daylight!" Pierre had scrambled stifflyout of his cover and his gabblings reached Willard. He raised aclenched fist into the darkness of the streaming night, cursinghorribly with words that appalled the other. 

"Man! man! don't curse your God. This is bad enough as it is. Coverup. Quick!"

Although apparently unmindful of his presence, the other crawled backmuttering. 

As the dim morning greyed the smother they rose and fought their waydownward toward the valley. Long since they had lost their gripinghunger, and now held only an apathetic indifference to food, with acringing dread of the cold and a stubborn sense of their extremenecessity. 

They fell many times, but gradually drew themselves more under control, the exercise suscitating them, as they staggered downward, blinded andbuffeted, their only hope the road-house. 

Willard marvelled dully at the change in Pierre. His face hadshrivelled to blackened freezes stretched upon a bony substructure, andlighted by feverish, glittering, black, black eyes. It seemed to himthat his own lagging body had long since failed, and that his aching, naked soul wandered stiffly through the endless day. As nightapproached Pierre stopped frequently, propping himself with legs farapart; sometimes he laughed. Invariably this horrible sound shockedWillard into a keener sense of the surroundings, and it grew toirritate him, for the Frenchman's mental wanderings increased with thedarkness. What made him rouse one with his awful laughter? Thesespells of walking insensibility were pleasanter far. At last the bigman fell. To Willard's mechanical endeavours to help he spokesleepily, but with the sanity of a man under great stress. 

"Dat no good. I'm goin' freeze right 'ere--freeze stiff as 'ell. Aurevoir. "

"Get up!" Willard kicked him weakly, then sat upon the prostrate man ashis own faculties went wandering. 

Eventually he roused, and digging into the snow buried the other, firstcovering his face with the ample parka hood. Then he struck down thevalley. In one lucid spell he found he had followed a sled trail, which was blown clear and distinct by the wind that had now almost diedaway. 

Occasionally his mind grew clear, and his pains beat in upon him tillhe grew furious at the life in him which refused to end, which forcedhim ever through this gauntlet of misery. More often he was consciousonly of a vague and terrible extremity outside of himself that goadedhim forever forward. Anon he strained to recollect his destination. His features had set in an implacable grimace of physical torture--likea runner in the fury of a finish--till the frost hardened them so. Attimes he fell heavily, face downward, and at length upon the trail, lying so till that omnipresent coercion that had frozen in his braindrove him forward. 

He heard his own voice maundering through lifeless lips like that of astranger: "The man that can eat his soul will win, Pierre. "

Sometimes he cried like a child and slaver ran from his open mouth, freezing at his breast. One of his hands was going dead. He strippedthe left mitten off and drew it laboriously over the right. One hewould save at least, even though he lost the other. He looked at thebare member dully, and he could not tell that the cold had eased tillthe bitterness was nearly out of the air. He laboured with the fitfulspurts of a machine run down. 

Ten men and many dogs lay together in the Crooked River Road Housethrough the storm. At late bedtime of the last night came a scratchingon the door. 

"Somebody's left a dog outside, " said a teamster, and rose to let himin. He opened the door only to retreat affrightedly. 

"My God!" he said. "My God!" and the miners crowded forward. 

A figure tottered over the portal, swaying drunkenly. They shudderedat the sight of its face as it crossed toward the fire. It did notwalk; it shuffled, haltingly, with flexed knees and hanging shoulders, the strides measuring inches only--a grisly burlesque upon senility. 

Pausing in the circle, it mumbled thickly, with great effort, as thoughgleaning words from infinite distance:

"Wild Pierre--frozen--buried--in--snow--hurry!" Then he straightenedand spoke strongly, his voice flooding the room:

"It's the mind, Pierre. Ha! ha! ha! The mind. "

He cackled hideously, and plunged forward into a miner's arms. 

It was many days before his delirium broke. Gradually he felt thepressure of many bandages upon him, and the hunger of convalescence. As he lay in his bunk the past came to him hazy and horrible; then thehum of voices, one loud, insistent, and familiar. 

He turned weakly, to behold Pierre propped in a chair by the stove, frost-scarred and pale, but aggressive even in recuperation. Hegesticulated fiercely with a bandaged hand, hot in controversy withsome big-limbed, bearded strangers. 

"Bah! You fellers no good--too beeg in the ches', too leetle in theforehead. She'll tak' the heducate mans for stan' the 'ardsheep--lak'me an' Meestaire Weelard. "

NORTH OF FIFTY-THREE

Big George was drinking, and the activities of the little Arcticmining camp were paralysed. Events invariably ceased their progressand marked time when George became excessive, and now nothing ofpublic consequence stirred except the quicksilver, which was retiringfearfully into its bulb at the song of the wind which came racingover the lonesome, bitter, northward waste of tundra. 

He held the centre of the floor at the Northern Club, and proclaimedhis modest virtues in a voice as pleasant as the cough of abull-walrus. 

"Yes, me! Little Georgie! I did it. I've licked 'em all fromHerschel Island to Dutch Harbour, big uns and little uns. When theydidn't suit I made 'em over. I'm the boss carpenter of the Arcticand I own this camp; don't I, Slim? Hey? Answer me!" he roared atthe emaciated bearer of the title, whose attention seemed wanderingfrom the inventory of George's startling traits toward a card game. 

"Sure ye do, " nervously smiled Slim, frightened out of a heart-soloas he returned to his surroundings. 

"Well, then, listen to what I'm saying. I'm the big chief of thevillage, and when I'm stimulated and happy them fellers I don't likehides out and lets me and Nature operate things. Ain't that right?"He glared inquiringly at his friends. 

Red, the proprietor, explained over the bar in a whisper to Captain, the new man from Dawson: "That's Big George, the whaler. He's asquaw-man and sort of a bully--see? When he's sober he's on thelevel strickly, an' we all likes him fine, but when he gets tofightin' the pain-killer, he ain't altogether a gentleman. Will hefight? Oh! Will he fight? Say! he's there with chimes, he is!Why, Doc Miller's made a grub-stake rebuildin' fellers that's had alingerin' doubt cached away about that, an' now when he gets thebooze up his nose them patched-up guys oozes away an' hibernates tillthe gas dies out in him. Afterwards he's sore on himself an'apologizes to everybody. Don't get into no trouble with him, causehe's two checks past the limit. They don't make 'em as bad as himany more. He busted the mould. "

George turned, and spying the new-comer, approached, eyeing him withcritical disfavour. 

Captain saw a bear-like figure, clad cap-a-pie in native fashion. Reindeer pants, with the hair inside, clothed legs like rock pillars, while out of the loose squirrel parka a corded neck rose, brown andstrong, above which darkly gleamed a rugged face seamed and scarredby the hate of Arctic winters. He had kicked off his deer-skinsocks, and stood bare-footed on the cold and draughty floor, whilethe poison he had imbibed showed only in his heated face, Silently heextended a cracked and hardened hand, which closed like the armouredclaw of a crustacean and tightened on the crunching fingers of theother. Captain's expression remained unchanged and, graduallyslackening his grip, the sailor roughly inquired:

"Where'd you come from?"

"Just got in from Dawson yesterday, " politely responded the stranger. 

"Well! what're you goin' to do now you're here?" he demanded. 

"Stake some claims and go to prospecting, I guess. You see, I wantedto get in early before the rush next spring. "

"Oh! I 'spose you're going to jump some of our ground, hey? Well, you ain't! We don't want no claim jumpers here, " disagreeablycontinued the seaman; "we won't stand for it. This is my camp--see?I own it, and these is my little children. " Then, as the otherrefused to debate with him, he resumed, groping for a new ground ofattack. 

"Say! I'll bet you're one of them eddicated dudes, too, ain't you?You talk like a feller that had been to college, " and, as the otherassented, he scornfully called to his friends, saying "Look here, fellers! Pipe the jellyfish! I never see one of these here animalsthat was worth a cuss; they plays football an' smokes cigareets atschool; then when they're weaned they come off up here an' jump ourclaims 'cause we can't write a location notice proper. They ain't nogood. I guess I'll stop it. "

Captain moved toward the door, but the whaler threw his bulky frameagainst it and scowlingly blocked the way. 

"No, you don't. You ain't goin' to run away till I've had the nextdance, Mister Eddication! Humph! I ain't begun to tell ye yet whata useless little barnacle you are. "

Red interfered, saying: "Look 'ere, George, this guy ain't noplaymate of yourn. We'll all have a jolt of this disturbancepromoter, an' call it off. " Then, as the others approached he winkedat Captain, and jerked his head slightly toward the door. 

The latter, heeding the signal, started out, but George leaped afterhim and, seizing an arm, whirled him back, roaring:

"Well, of all the cussed impidence I ever see! You're too high-tonedto drink with us, are you? You don't get out of here now till youtake a lickin' like a man. "

He reached over his head and, grasping the hood of his fur shirt, with one movement he stripped it from him, exposing a massive nakedbody, whose muscles swelled and knotted beneath a skin as clear as amaiden's, while a map of angry scars strayed across the heavy chest. 

As the shirt sailed through the air. Red lightly vaulted to the barand, diving at George's naked middle, tackled beautifully, crying toCaptain: "Get out quick; we'll hold him. "

Others rushed forward and grasped the bulky sailor, but Captain'svoice replied: "I sort of like this place, and I guess I'll stay awhile. Turn him loose. "

"Why, man, he'll kill ye, " excitedly cried Slim. "Get out!"

The captive hurled his peacemakers from him and, shaking off theclinging arms, drove furiously at the insolent stranger. 

In the cramped limits of the corner where he stood. Captain wasunable to avoid the big man, who swept him with a crash against theplank door at his back, grasping hungrily at his throat. As hisshoulders struck, however, he dropped to his knees and, before theraging George could seize him, he avoided a blow which would havestrained the rivets of a strength-tester and ducked under the other'sarms, leaping to the cleared centre of the floor. 

Seldom had the big man's rush been avoided and, whirling, he swung aboom-like arm at the agile stranger. Before it landed, Captainstepped in to meet his adversary and, with the weight of his bodybehind the blow, drove a clenched and bony fist crashing into theother's face. The big head with its blazing shock of hair snappedbackward and the whaler drooped to his knees at the other's feet. 

The drunken flush of victory swept over Captain as he stood above theswaying figure; then, suddenly, he felt the great bare arms closeabout his waist with a painful grip. He struck at the bleeding facebelow him and wrenched at the circling bands which wheezed the breathfrom his lungs, but the whaler squeezed him writhing to his breast, and, rising, unsteadily wheeled across the floor and in a shiver ofbroken glass fell crashing against the bar and to the floor. 

As the struggling men writhed upon the planks the door opened at thehurried entrance of an excited group, which paused at the sight ofthe ruin, then, rushing forward, tore the men apart. 

The panting Berserker strained at the arms about his glistening body, while Captain, with sobbing sighs, relieved his aching lungs andwatched his enemy, who frothed at the interference. 

"It was George's fault, " explained Slim to the questions of thearrivals. "This feller tried to make a get-away, but George had tohave his amusement. "

A new-comer addressed the squaw-man in a voice as cold as the wind. "Cut this out, George! This is a friend of mine. You're making thiscamp a regular hell for strangers, and now I'm goin' to tap yourlittle snap. Cool off--see?"

Jones's reputation as a bad gun-man went hand in hand with his nameas a good gambler, and his scanty remarks invariably evoked attentiveanswers, so George explained: "I don't like him Jones, and I was jus'makin' him over to look like a man. I'll do it yet, too, " he flashedwrathfully at his quiet antagonist. 

"'Pears to me like he's took a hand in the remodelling himself, "replied the gambler, "but if you're lookin' for something to do, here's your chance. Windy Jim just drove in and says Barton and KidSullivan are adrift on the ice. "

"What's that?" questioned eager voices, and, forgetting the recenttrouble at the news, the crowd pressed forward anxiously. 

"They was crossing the bay and got carried out by the off-shoregale, " explained Jones. "Windy was follerin' 'em when the ice aheadparted and begun movin' out. He tried to yell to 'em, but they wastoo far away to hear in the storm. He managed to get back to theland and follered the shore ice around. He's over at Hunter's cabinnow, most dead, face and hands froze pretty bad. "

A torrent of questions followed and many suggestions as to the fateof the men. 

"They'll freeze before they can get ashore, " said one. 

"The ice-pack'll break up in this wind, " added another, "and if theydon't drown, they'll freeze before the floe comes in close enough forthem to land. "

From the first announcement of his friends' peril, Captain had beenthinking rapidly. His body, sore from his long trip and aching fromthe hug of his recent encounter, cried woefully for rest, but hisvoice rose calm and clear:

"We've got to get them off, " he said. "Who will go with me? Threeis enough. "

The clamouring voices ceased, and the men wheeled at the sound, gazing incredulously at the speaker. "What!"--"In thisstorm?"--"You're crazy, " many voices said. 

He gazed appealingly at the faces before him. Brave and adventurousmen he knew them to be, jesting with death, and tempered to perils inthis land where hardship rises with the dawn, but they shook theirragged heads hopelessly. 

"We _must_ save them!" resumed Captain hotly. "Barton and I playedas children together, and if there's not a man among you who's gotthe nerve to follow me--I'll go alone by Heavens!"

In the silence of the room, he pulled the cap about his ears and, tying it snugly under his chin, drew on his huge fur mittens; thenwith a scornful laugh he turned toward the door. 

He paused as his eye caught the swollen face of Big George. Bloodhad stiffened in the heavy creases of his face like rusted stringersin a ledge, while his mashed and discoloured lips protruded thickly. His hair gleamed red, and the sweat had dried upon his nakedshoulders, streaked with dirt and flecked with spots of blood, yetthe battered features shone with the unconquered, fearless light of arough, strong man. 

Captain strode to him with outstretched hand. "You're a man, " hesaid. "You've got the nerve, George, and you'll go with me, won'tyou?"

"What! Me?" questioned the sailor vaguely. His wondering glanceleft Captain, and drifted round the circle of shamed and silentfaces--then he straightened stiffly and cried: "Will I go with you?Certainly! I'll go to ---- with you. "

Ready hands harnessed the dogs, dragged from protected nooks wherethey sought cover from the storm which moaned and whistled round thelow houses. Endless ragged folds of sleet whirled out of the north, then writhed and twisted past, vanishing into the grey veil whichshrouded the landscape in a twilight gloom. 

The fierce wind sank the cold into the aching flesh like a knife andstiffened the face to a whitening mask, while a fusillade of frozenice-particles beat against the eyeballs with blinding fury. 

As Captain emerged from his cabin, furred and hooded, he found a longtrain of crouching, whining animals harnessed and waiting, whilemuffled figures stocked the sled with robes and food and stimulants. 

Big George approached through the whirling white, a great squatfigure with fluttering squirrel tails blowing from his parka, and athis heels there trailed a figure, skin-clad and dainty. 

"It's my wife, " he explained briefly to Captain. "She won't let mego alone. "

They gravely bade farewell to all, and the little crowd cheeredlustily against the whine of the blizzard as, with cracking whip andhoarse shouts, they were wrapped in the cloudy winding sheet of snow. 

Arctic storms have an even sameness; the intense cold, the heartlesswind which augments tenfold the chill of the temperature, the airthick and dark with stinging flakes rushing by in an endless cloud. A drifting, freezing, shifting eternity of snow, driven by a raveninggale which sweeps the desolate, bald wastes of the Northland. 

The little party toiled through the smother till they reached the"egloos" under the breast of the tall, coast bluffs, where coughingEskimos drilled patiently at ivory tusks and gambled the furs fromtheir backs at stud-horse poker. 

To George's inquiries they answered that their largest canoe was thethree-holed bidarka on the cache outside. Owing to the smallcircular openings in its deck, this was capable of holding but threepassengers, and Captain said; "We'll have to make two trips, George. "

"Two trips, eh?" answered the other. "We'll be doin' well if we lastthrough one, I'm thinking. "

Lashing the unwieldy burden upon the sled, they fought their wayalong the coast again till George declared they were opposite thepoint where their friends went adrift. They slid their light craftthrough the ragged wall of ice hummocks guarding the shore pack, anddimly saw, in the grey beyond them, a stretch of angry waters mottledby drifting cakes and floes. 

George spoke earnestly to his wife, instructing her to keep the teamin constant motion up and down the coast a rifle-shot in eitherdirection, and to listen for a signal of the return. Then he pickedher up as he would a babe, and she kissed his storm-beaten face. 

"She's been a good squaw to me, " he said, as they pushed theirdancing craft out into the breath of the gale, "and I've always donethe square thing by her; I s'pose she'll go back to her people now, though. "

The wind hurried them out from land, while it drove the sea-water infreezing spray over their backs and changed their fur garments intoscaly armour, as they worked through the ice cakes, peering withstrained eyes for a sign of their friends. 

The sailor, with deft strokes, steered them, between the grindingbergs, raising his voice in lone signals like the weird cry of asiren. 

Twisting back and forth through the floes, they held to their quest, now floating with the wind, now paddling desperately in a race withsome drifting mass which dimly towered above them and splinteredhungrily against its neighbour close in their wake. 

Captain emptied his six-shooter till his numbed fingers grew rigid asthe trigger, and always at his back swelled the deep shouts of thesailor, who, with practised eye and mighty strokes, forced their waythrough the closing lanes between the jaws of the ice pack. 

At last, beaten and tossed, they rested disheartened and hopeless. Then, as they drifted, a sound struggled to them against the wind--afaint cry, illusive and fleeting as a dream voice--and, stilldoubting, they heard it again. 

"Thank God! We'll save 'em yet, " cried Captain, and they drove thecanoe boiling toward the sound. 

Barton and Sullivan had fought the cold and wind stoutly hour afterhour, till they found their great floe was breaking up in the heavingwaters. 

Then the horror of it had struck the Kid, till he raved and cursed upand down their little island, as it dwindled gradually to a smallacre. 

He had finally yielded to the weight of the cold which crushedresistance out of him, and settled, despairing and listless, upon theice. Barton dragged him to his feet and forced him round theirrocking prison, begging him to brace up, to fight it out like a man, till the other insisted on resting, and dropped to his seat again. 

The older man struck deliberately at the whitening face of hisfreezing companion, who recognized the well-meant insult and refusedto be roused into activity. Then to their ears had come the faintcries of George, and, in answer to their screams, through the gloomthey beheld a long, covered, skin canoe, and the anxious faces oftheir friends. 

Captain rose from his cramped seat, and, ripping his cracklinggarments from the boat where they had frozen, he wriggled out of thehole in the deck and grasped the weeping Barton. 

"Come, come, old boy! It's all right now, " he said. 

"Oh, Charlie, Charlie!" cried the other. "I might have known you'dtry to save us. You're just in time, though, for the Kid's about allin. " Sullivan apathetically nodded and sat down again. 

"Hurry up there; this ain't no G. A. R. Encampment, and you ain't gotno time to spare, " said George, who had dragged the canoe out and, with a paddle, broke the sheets of ice which covered it. "It'll betoo dark to see anything in half an hour. "

The night, hastened by the storm, was closing rapidly, and theyrealized another need of haste, for, even as they spoke, a crack hadcrawled through the ice-floe where they stood, and, widening as itwent, left but a heaving cake supporting them. 

George spoke quietly to Captain, while Barton strove to animate theKid. "You and Barton must take him ashore and hurry him down to thevillage. He's most gone now. "

"But you?" questioned the other. "We'll have to come back for you, as soon as we put him ashore. "

"Never mind me, " roughly interrupted George. "It's too late to getback here. When you get ashore it'll be dark. Besides Sullivan'sfreezing, and you'll have to rush him through quick. I'll stay here. "

"No! No! George!" cried the other, as the meaning of it bore inupon him. "I got you into this thing, and it's my place to stayhere. You must go--"

But the big man had hurried to Sullivan, and, seizing him in hisgreat hands, shook the drowsy one like a rat, cursing and beating agoodly share of warmth back into him. Then he dragged the listlessburden to the canoe and forced him to a seat in the middle opening. 

"Come, come, " he cried to the others; "you can't spend all nighthere. If you want to save the Kid, you've got to hurry. You takethe front seat there, Barton, " and, as he did so, George turned tothe protesting Captain: "Shut up, curse you, and get in!"

"I won't do it, " rebelled the other. "I can't let you lay down yourlife in this way, when I made you come. "

George thrust a cold face within an inch of the other's and grimlysaid: "If they hadn't stopped me, I'd beat you into dog-meat thismorning, and if you don't quit this snivelling I'll do it yet. Nowget in there and paddle to beat ---- or you'll never make it back. Quick!"

"I'll come back for you then, George, if I live to the shore, "Captain cried, while the other slid the burdened canoe into the icywaters. 

As they drove the boat into the storm, Captain realized thedifficulty of working their way against the gale. On him fell theadded burden of holding their course into the wind and avoiding thechurning ice cakes. The spray whipped into his face like shot, andfroze as it clung to his features. He strained at his paddle tillthe sweat soaked out of him and the cold air filled his aching lungs. 

Unceasingly the merciless frost cut his face like a keen blade, tillhe felt the numb paralysis which told him his features were hardeningunder the touch of the cold. 

An arm's length ahead the shoulders of the Kid protruded from thedeck hole where he had sunk again into the death sleep, while Barton, in the forward seat, leaned wearily on his ice-clogged paddle, moaning as he strove to shelter his face from the sting of theblizzard. 

An endless time they battled with the storm, slowly gaining, foot byfoot, till in the darkness ahead they saw the wall of shore ice andswung into its partial shelter. 

Dragging the now unconscious Sullivan from the boat, Captain rolledand threshed him, while Barton, too weak and exhausted to assist, feebly strove to warm his stiffened limbs. 

In answer to their signals, the team appeared, maddened by the lashof the squaw. Then they wrapped Sullivan in warm robes, and forcedscorching brandy down his throat, till he coughed weakly and beggedthem to let him rest. 

"You must hurry him to the Indian village, " directed Captain. "He'llonly lose some fingers and toes now, maybe; but you've got to hurry!"

"Aren't you coming, too?" queried Barton. "We'll hire some Eskimosto go after George. I'll pay 'em anything. "

"No, I'm going back to him now; he'd freeze before we could sendhelp, and, besides, they wouldn't come out in the storm and the dark. "

"But you can't work that big canoe alone. If you get out there anddon't find him you'll never get back. Charlie! let me go, too, " hesaid; then apologized. "I'm afraid I won't last, though; I'm tooweak. "

The squaw, who had questioned not at the absence of her lord, nowtouched Captain's arm. "Come, " she said; "I go with you. " Thenaddressing Barton, "You quick go Indian house; white man die, mebbe. Quick! I go Big George. "

"Ah, Charlie, I'm afraid you'll never make it, " cried Barton, and, wringing his friend's hand, he staggered into the darkness behind thesled wherein lay the fur-bundled Sullivan. 

Captain felt a horror of the starving waters rise up in him and apanic shook him fiercely, till he saw the silent squaw waiting forhim at the ice edge. He shivered as the wind searched through hisdampened parka and hardened the wet clothing next to his body, but hetook his place and dug the paddle fiercely into the water, till thewaves licked the hair of his gauntlets. 

The memory of that scudding trip through the darkness was alwayscloudy and visioned. Periods of keen alertness alternated withmoments when his weariness bore upon him till he stiffly bent to hiswork, wondering what it all meant. 

It was the woman's sharpened ear which caught the first answeringcry, and her hands which steered the intricate course to the heavingberg where the sailor crouched, for, at their approach, Captain hadyielded to the drowse of weariness and, in his relief at the finding, the blade floated from his listless hands. 

He dreamed quaint dreams, broken by the chilling lash of spray fromthe strokes of the others, as they drove the craft back against thewind, and he only partly awoke from his lethargy when George wrenchedhim from his seat and forced him down the rough trail toward warmthand safety. 

Soon, however, the stagnant blood tingled through his veins, andunder the shelter of the bluffs they reached the village, where theyfound the anxious men waiting. 

Skilful natives had worked the frost from Sullivan's members, and thestimulants in the sled had put new life into Barton as well. So, asthe three crawled wearily through the dog-filled tunnel of the egloo, they were met by two wet-eyed and thankful men, who silently wrungtheir hands or uttered broken words. 

When they had been despoiled of their frozen furs, and the welcomeheat of whisky and fire had met in their blood, Captain approachedthe whaler, who rested beside his mate. 

"George, you're the bravest man I ever knew, and your woman is worthyof you, " he said. He continued slowly, "I'm sorry about the fightthis morning, too. "

The big man rose and, crushing the extended palm in his grasp, said:"We'll just let that go double, partner. You're as game as I eversee. " Then he added: "It was too bad them fellers interferred jestwhen they did--but we can finish it up whenever you say, " and as theother, smiling, shook his head, he continued:

"Well, I'm glad of it, 'cause you'd sure beat me the next time. "

WHERE NORTHERN LIGHTS COME DOWN O' NIGHTS

The Mission House at Togiak stands forlornly on a wind-swept Alaskanspit, while huddled around it a swarm of dirt-covered "igloos" grovelin an ecstacy of abasement. 

Many natives crawled out of these and stared across the bay as down agully came an Arctic caravan, men and dogs, black against, the deadlywhiteness. Ahead swung the guide, straddling awkwardly on his fivefoot webs, while the straining pack pattered at his heels. BigGeorge, the driver, urged them with strong words, idioms of theNorthland, and his long whip bit sharply at their legs. 

His companion, clinging to the sled, stumbled now and then, while hisface, splitting from the snap of the frost, was smothered in amuffler. Sometimes he fell, plunging into the snow, risingpainfully, and groaning with the misery of "snow-blindness. "

"Most there now. Cap, keep up your grit. "

"I'm all right, " answered the afflicted man, wearily. "Don't mindme. "

George, too, had suffered from the sheen of the unbroken whiteness, and, while his eyes had not wholly closed, he saw but dimly. Hischeeks were grease-smeared, and blackened with charred wood to breakthe snow-glare, but through his mask showed signs of suffering, whilehis blood-shot eyes dripped scalding tears and throbbeddistressfully. For days he had not dared to lose sight of the guide. Once he had caught him sneaking the dogs away, and he feared he hadkilled the man for a time. Now Jaska broke trail ahead, his sullen, swollen features baleful in their injury. 

Down the steep bank they slid, across the humped up sea ice at theriver mouth and into the village. 

At the greeting of their guide to his tribesmen, George started. Twelve years of coast life had taught him the dialect from PointBarrow south, and he glanced at Captain to find whether he, too, hadheard the message. As Jaska handed a talisman to the chief he strodeto him and snatched it. 

"Oho! It's Father Orloff, is it? D---- him!" He gazed at thetoken, a white spruce chip with strange marks and carvings. 

"What does it mean, George?" said the blind man. 

"It's a long story, Charlie, and black. You should have known itbefore we started. I'm a marked man in this coast country. It'sOrloff's work, the renegade. 'Father, ' he calls himself. Father tothese devils he rules and robs for himself in the name of the Church. His hate is bitter, and he'd have my life if these watery-liveredcurs didn't dread the sound of my voice. God help him when we meet. "

He shook his hairy claws at the hostile circle, then cried to thechief in the native tongue:--

"Oh, Shaman! We come bleeding and weary. Hunger grips us and ourbones are stiff with frost. The light is gone from my brother's eyesand we are sick. Open you the door to the Mission House that the'Minoks' may rest and grow strong. "

The Indians clustered before the portal, with its rude cross above, and stared malignantly, while the chief spoke. At the name of hisenemy the unsightly eyes of George gleamed, and he growledcontemptuously, advancing among them. They scattered at the mannerof his coming, and he struck the padlocked door till it rattledstiffly. Then spying the cross overhead he lifted up and gripped thewood. It came away ripping, and with wails of rage and horror at thesacrilege, they closed about him. 

"Here, Cap! Bust her in quick!" He dragged Captain before theentrance, thrusting the weapon upon him, then ran ferociously amongthe people. He snatched them to him, cuffing like a bear andtrampling them into the snow. Those who came into the reach of hisknotty arms crumpled up and twisted under his feet. He whirled intothe group, roaring hoarsely, his angry, grease-blackened face hideouswith rage. The aborigine is not a fighting machine; for him theside-step and counter have no being. They melted ahead of hisblazing wrath, and he whisked them, fleeing, by their garments, sothat they felt the stamp of his moccasined heels. 

Captain dragged the team within, and George following, blocked theshattered door. 

"We're safe as long as we stay in the Church, " said he. 

"Right of sanctuary, eh? Does it occur to you how we're going to getout?"

"Never mind, we'll get out somehow, " said he, and that night, asCharlie Captain, late University man and engineer, lay with eyesswathed in steaming cloths, the whaler spoke operosely and with thebitterness of great wrong. 

"It happened when we rocked the bars of Forty Mile, before ever aChechako had crossed the Chilcoot. I went over to the headwaters ofthe Tanana. Into the big valley I went and got lost in the Flats. 'Tis a wild country, rimmed by high mountains, full of niggerheadsand tundra, with the river windin' clean back to the source of theCopper. I run out of grub. We always did them days, and built araft to float down to the Yukon. A race with starvation, and a deadheat it near proved, too, though I had a shade the best of it. Idrifted out into the main river, ravin' mad, my 'Mukluks' eat off andmy moose-hide gun cover inside of me. 

"A girl spied me from the village, and 'twas her brought me ashore inher birch-bark and tended me in her wick-i-up till reason came andthe blood ran through me again. 

"I mind seein' a white man stand around at times and hearin' him begher to leave me to the old squaws. She didn't though. She gave mebits of moose meat and berries and dried salmon, and when I come toone day I saw she was little and brown and pleadin' and her clothesall covered with beads. Her eyes was big and sad, Cap, and dimplespoked into her cheeks when she laughed. 

"'Twas then that Orloff takes a hand--the white man. A priest hecalled himself; breed, Russian. Maybe he was, but a blacker heartedthief never wronged a child. He wanted the girl, Metla, and so didI. When I asked her old man for her he said she was promised to theRussian. I laughed at him, and a chief hates to be mocked. You knowwhat sway the Church has over these Indians. Well, Orloff is astrong man. He held 'em like a rock. He worked on 'em till one daythe tribemen came to me in a body and said, 'Go!'

"'Give me the girl, and I will, ' says I. 

"Orloff sneered. 'She was mine for a month before ye came, ' says hewith the fiend showin' back of his eyes. 'Do ye want her now?'

"For a minute I believed him. I struck once to kill, and he wentdown. They closed on me as fast as I shook 'em off. 'Twas abeautiful sight for a ruction, on the high banks over the river, butI was like water from the sickness. I fought to get at their priestwhere he lay, to stamp out his grinning face before they downed me, but I was beat back to the bluff and I battled with my heels over theedge. I broke a pole from the fish-rack and a good many went down. Then I heard Metla calling softly from below:--

"'Jump!' she said. 'Big one, jump. '

"She had loosed a canoe at the landing and now held it in the boilingcurrent underneath, paddling desperately. 

"As they ran out of the tents with their rifles I leaped. 

"A long drop and cold water, but I hit feet first. When I rose thelittle girl was alongside. 

"It's a ticklish thing to crawl over the stern of a canoe in thespatter of slugs, with the roar of muzzle-loaders above. It'sshakin' to the nerves, but the maid never flinched, not even when abullet split the gunnel. She ripped a piece of her dress and pluggeda hole under the water line while I paddled out of range. 

"The next winter at Holy Cross she ran to me shaking one day. 

"'He is here! He is here! Oh, Big man, I am afraid!'

"'Who's here?' says I. 

"'He is here--Father Orloff, ' and her eyes was round and scared sothat I took her up and kissed her while she clung to me--she was sucha little girl. 

"'He spoke to me at the water-hole, "I have come for you. " I ranvery fast, but he came behind. "Where is George?"' he said. 

"I went out of the cabin down to the Mission, and into the house ofFather Barnum. He was there. 

"'Orloff! What do ye want?' I says. 

"Father Barnum speaks up--'he's known for a good man the length ofthe river. George, ' says he, 'Father Orloff tells me you stole thegirl Metla from her tribe. 'Tis a shameful thing for a white to takea red girl for his wife, but it's a crime to live as you do. '

"'What?' says I. 

"'We can't sell you provisions nor allow you to stay in the village. '

"Orloff grins. 'You must go on, ' he says, 'or give her up. '

"'No! I'll do neither. ' And I shows the paper from the missionaryat Nulato statin' that we were married. 'She's my wife, ' says I, 'and too good for me. She's left her people and her gods, and I'llcare for her. ' I saw how it hurt Orloff, and I laid my hand on hisshoulder close to the neck. 'I distrust ye, and sure as Fate ye'lldie the shocking death if ever harm comes to the little one. '

"That was the winter of the famine, though every winter was the samethen, and I went to Anvik for grub--took all the strong men and dogsin the village. I was afraid when I left, too, for 'twas the time Ishould have been with her, but there was no one else to go. 

"'When you come back, ' she said, 'there will be another--a littleboy--and he will grow mighty and strong, like his father. ' She hungher arms around me, Cap, and I left with her kisses warm on my lips. 

"It was a terrible trip, the river wet with overflows and thecut-offs drifted deep, so I drove back into Holy Cross a week latewith bleedin' dogs and frozen Indians strainin' at the sled ropes. 

"I heard the wail of the old women before. I come to the cabin, andwhen Metla had sobbed the story out in her weakness, I went back intothe dark and down to the Mission. I remember how the Northern Lightsflared over the hills above, and the little spruces on the summitlooked to me like headstones, black against the moon--and I laughedwhen I saw the snow red in the night glare, for it meant blood anddeath. 

"It was as lusty a babe as ever crowed, but Orloff had come to thesick bed and sent her squaws away. Baptism and such things he saidhe'd do. The little fellow died that night. 

"They say the Mission door was locked and barred, but I pushedthrough it like paper and came into Father Barnum's house, where theysat. Fifty below is bad for the naked flesh. I broke in, bare-headed, mittenless, and I'd froze some on the way down. He sawmurder in my eyes and tried to run, but I got him as he went out ofthe room. He tore his throat loose from my stiffened fingers andwent into the church, but I beat down the door with my naked fists, mocking at his prayers inside, and may I never be closer to deaththan Orloff was that night. 

"Then a squaw tugged at my parka. 

"'She is dying, Anguk, ' she said, and I ran back up the hill with thecold bitin' at my heart. 

"There was no death that night in Holy Cross, though God knows onenaked soul was due to walk out onto the snow. At daylight, when Icame back for him, he had fled down the river with the fastest dogs, and to this day I've never seen his face, though 'tis often I've felthis hate. 

"He's grown into the strongest missionary on the coast, and he neverlets a chance go by to harry me or the girl. 

"D'ye mind the time 'Skagway' Bennet died? We was pardners up NortonSound way when he was killed. They thought he suicided, but I know. I found a cariboo belt in the brush near camp--the kind they make onthe Kuskokwim, Father Orion's country. His men took the wrong one, that's all. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell ye this, Cap, before we started, for nowwe're into the South Country, where he owns the natives. He knowswe've come, as the blood-token of the guide showed. He wants mylife, and there's great trouble comin' up. I'm hopin' ye'll soon getyour sight, for by now there's a runner twenty miles into the hillswith news that we're blind in the church at Togiak. Three days he'llbe goin', and on the fifth ye'll hear the jangle of Russiandog-bells. He'll kill the fastest team in Nushagak in the comin', and God help us if we're here. "

George scraped a bit of frost-lace from the lone window pane. Darkfigures moved over the snow, circling the chapel, and he knew thateach was armed. Only their reverence for the church held them fromdoing the task set by Orloff, and he sighed as he changed thebandages on his suffering mate. 

They awoke the next morning to the moan of wind and the sift of snowclouds past their walls. Staring through his peep-hole, Georgedistinguished only a seethe of whirling flakes that greyed the view, blotting even the neighbouring huts, and when the early eveningbrought a rising note in the storm the trouble lifted from his face. 

"A three-day blizzard, " he rejoiced, "and the strongest team on thecoast can't wallow through it under a week. These on-shore gales isbeauts. "

For three days the wind tore from off the sea into the open bight atwhose head lay Togiak, and its violence wrecked the armour of shoreice in the bay till it beat and roared against the spit, a threshingmaelstrom of shattered bergs. The waters piled into the inlet drivenby the lash of the storm till they overflowed the river ice behindthe village, submerging and breaking it into ragged, dangerousconfusion. 

On the third day, with Arctic vagary, the wind gasped reluctantly andscurried over the range. In its wake the surging ocean churnedloudly and the back-water behind the town, held by the dam offreezing slush-ice at the river mouth, was skimmed by a thinice-paper, pierced here and there by the up-ended piles from beneath. This held the night's snow, so that morning showed the village girton three sides by a stream soft-carpeted and safe to the eye, butfailing beneath the feet of a child. 

"You're eyes are comin' along mighty slow, " worried George. "I'mhopin' his reverence is up to his gills in drifts back yonder. "Wemust leave him a sled trail for a souvenir. "

"How can we, with the place guarded?"

"Hitch the dogs and run for it by night, He'll burn us out when hecomes. Fine targets we'd make on the snow by the light of a burningshack. If ye can see to shoot we'll go tonight. Hello! What'sthat?"

Outside came the howl of malamoots and the cry of men. Leaping tothe window, George rubbed it free and stared into the sunshine. 

"Too late! Too late!" he said. "Here he comes! It's time I killedhim. " He spoke gratingly, with the dull anger of years. 

On the bright surface of the opposite hillside a sled bearing amuffled figure appeared silhouetted against the glisten of the crust. Its team, maddened by the village scent, poured down the inclinetoward the river bank and the guide swung onto the runners behind, while the voice of the people rose to their priest. In a whirl ofsoft snow they drove down onto the treachery of the ice. The screamsof the natives frenzied the pack and they rioted out onto the bendingsheet, while the long sledge, borne by its momentum, shot forwardtill the splitting cry of the ice sounded over the lamentations. Itslackened, sagged and disappeared in a surge of congealing waters. The wheel dogs were dragged into the opening and their mates aheadjerked backward onto them. In a fighting tangle, all settled intothe swirl. 

Orloff leaped from the sinking sled, but hindered by his furswaddling, crashed through and lunged heavily in his struggles tomount the edge of the film. As he floundered onto the caving surfaceit let him back and the waters covered him time and again. Hepitched oddly about, and for the first time they saw his eyes werebound tightly with bandages, which he strove to loosen. 

"My God! He's snow-blind!" cried George, and in a moment he appearedamong the frantic mob fringing the shore. 

The guide broke his way toward a hummock of old ice forming an isletnear by, and the priest half swam, half scrambled behind, till theycrawled out upon this solid footing. Here the wintry wind searchedthem and their dripping clothes stiffened quickly. Orloff draggedthe strips from his face, and as the sun glitter pierced his eyes hewrithed as though seared by the naked touch of hot steel. 

He shouted affrightedly in his blindness, but the mocking voice ofBig George answered him and he cowered at the malevolence in thewords. 

"Here I am, Orloff. It's help ye want, is it? I'll shoot the manthat tries to reach ye. Ha, ha! You're freezin' eh? Georgie willtalk to keep ye awake. A dirty trick of the river to cheat me so. I've fattened for years on the hope of stampin' your life out and nowit's robbed me. But I'll stick till ye're safe in Hell. "

The man cried piteously, turning his bleared eyes toward the sound. 

"Shoot, why don't you, and end it? Can't you see we're freezing?"He stood up in his carapace of stiffened clothes, shivering palsiedly. 

"The truest thing ye ever said, " cried George, and he swung his coltsinto view. "It'll favour you and I'll keep my vow. " He raised thegun. The splashing of the distant dogs broke the silence. A nativeknelt stiffly. 

"George! George!" Captain had stumbled down among them and pluckedat his arm, peering dimly into his distorted face. "Great God, areyou a murderer? They'll be dead before we can save them. "

"Save 'em ?" said George, while reason fought with his mania. "Whosegoin' to save 'em? He needs killin'. I'm hungry for his life. "

"He's a man, George. They're both human, and they're dying in sightof us. Give him a chance. Fight like a man. "

As he spoke the fury fell away from the whaler and he became thealert, strong man of the frontier, knowing the quick danger andmeeting it. 

He bellowed at the natives and they fled backward before his voice, storming the cache where lay the big skin canoes. They slid one downand seizing paddles crushed the ice around it till it floated, thensupported by the prow, George stamped the ice into fragments ahead, and they forced their way slowly along the channel he made. Soakedto the armpits he smashed a trail through which they reached thehummock where the others lay, too listless for action. 

At the shore they bore the priest to their shelter while the guidewas snatched into a near-by hut. They hacked off his brittle clothesand supported him to the bed. As he walked his feet clattered on theboard floor like the sound of wooden shoes. They were white andsolid, as were his hands. 

"He's badly frozen, " whispered Captain, "can we save him?" Theyrubbed and thawed for hours, but the sluggish blood refused to flowinto the extremities and Captain felt that this man would die forlack of amputation. 

Through all the Russian was silent, gazing strangely at George. 

"'Tis no use, " finally said the big man, despairingly, "I've seen toomany of 'em; we've done our best. "

He disappeared, and there sounded the jingle of harness as the dogswere hitched. As he entered for the camp outfit Orloff spoke:

"George Brace, I've harmed you bitterly these many years, and you'rea good man to help me so. It's no use. We have both fought the ColdDeath, and know when to quit. I came here to kill you, but you willgo out across the mountains free, while I rave in madness and themedicine men make charms over me. When you come into Bethel MissionI'll be dead. Good-bye. "

"Good Hell! We're takin' ye to Bethel and a doctor in ten minutes. A week's travel as the trail goes, but we'll save a chunk of ye yet, old man. "

Five days later a broken team crawled over the snow to the MoravianMission, urged by two men gaunt from the trail, and blistered by thecold. From the sledge came shrieks and throaty mutterings, horridgabblings of post-freezing madness and Dr. Forrest, lifting back therobe, found Orloff lashed into his couch. 

"Five days from Togiak. Two hundred miles in heavy trails, "explained George wearily, as the cries of the maniac dimmed behindthe log walls. 

Two hours later Forrest spoke gravely as they nursed their frostbites in his room. 

"We have operated. He will recover. "

"It's a sad, sad day, "' mourned George. "It just takes the taste outof everything for me. He's a cripple now, eh ?"

"Yes! Helpless! I did not know Father Orloff had many--er--friendshereabout, " continued the doctor. "He was thought to be hated by thewhites. I'm glad the report was wrong. "

"Friends be damned, " said the other strongly. "What's a friend? Yecan get them any place, but where can ye find another enemy like thatman?"

THE SCOURGE

Coming down coast from the Kotzebue country they stumbled onto thelittle camp in the early winter, and as there was food a plenty, ofits kind, whereas they had subsisted for some days on puree of sealoil and short ribs of dog, Captain and Big George decided to winter. A maxim of the north teaches to cabin by a grub-pile. 

It was an odd village they beheld that first day. Instead of theclean moss-chinked log shelters men were wont to build in this land, they found the community housed like marmots in holes and burrows. 

It seemed that the troop had landed, fresh from the States, a hundredand a quarter strong, hot with the lust for gold, yet shaken by thenewspaper horrors of Alaska's rigorous hardships and forbiddingclimate. 

Debouching in the early fall, they had hastily prepared for anAssociated Press-painted Arctic winter. 

Had they been forced to winter in the mountains of Idaho, or amongMontana's passes, they would have prepared simply and effectively. Here, however, in a mystic land, surrounded by the unknown, they grewpanic stricken and lost their wits. 

Thus, when the two "old timers" came upon them in the early winterthey found them in bomb-proof hovels, sunk into the muck, banked withlog walls, and thatched over with dirt and sod. 

"Where are your windows and ventilators?" they were asked, andcollectively the camp laughed at the question. _They_ knew how tokeep snug and warm even if half-witted "sourdoughs" didn't. _They_weren't taking any chances on freezing, not on your tin-type, nooutdoor work and exposure for them!

As the winter settled, they snuggled back, ate three meals and moredaily of bacon, beans, and baking-powder bread; playing cribbage foran appetite. They undertook no exercise more violent than seven-up, while the wood-cutting fell as a curse upon those unfortunates wholost at the game. They giggled at Captain and the big whaler whodaily, snow or blow, hit the trail or wielded pick and shovel. 

However, as the two maintained their practice, the camp grew toresent their industry, and, as is possible only in utterly idlecommunities, there sprung up a virulence totally out of proportion, and, founded without reason, most difficult to dispel. Before theyknew it, the two were disliked and distrusted; their presenceignored; their society shunned. 

Captain had talked to many in the camp. "You'll get scurvy, sure, living in these dark houses. They're damp and dirty, and you don'texercise. Besides, there isn't a pound of fresh grub in camp. "

Figuratively, the camp's nose had tilted at this, and it statedpompously that it were better to preserve its classic purity offeatures and pro rata of toes, than to jeopardize these adjunctsthrough fear of a possible blood disease. 

"Blood disease, eh?" George snorted like a sea-lion. "Wait tillyour legs get black and you spit your teeth out like plum-pits--mebbeyou'll listen then. It'll come, see if it don't. "

He was right. Yet when the plague did grip the camp and men died, one in five, they failed to rise to it. Instead of fighting manfullythey lapsed into a frightened, stubborn coma. 

There was one, and only one, who did not. Klusky the Jew; Klusky thepariah. They said he worked just to be ornery and different from therest, he hated them so. They enjoyed baiting him to witness hisfury. It sated that taint of Roman cruelty inherent in the man ofignorance. He was all the amusement they had, for it wasn't policyto stir up the two others--they might slop over and clean up thevillage. So they continued to goad him as they had done sinceleaving 'Frisco. They gibed and jeered till he shunned them, livingalone in the fringe of the pines, bitter and vicious, as an outcastfrom the pack will grow, whether human or lupine. He frequented onlythe house of Captain and George, because they were exiles likehimself. 

The partners did not relish this overmuch, for he was an odiousbeing, avaricious, carping, and dirty. 

"His face reminds me of a tool, " said George, once, "nose an' chinshuts up like calipers. He's got the forehead of a salmon trout, an'his chin don't retreat, it stampedes, plumb down ag'in his apple. Look out for that droop of the mouth. I've seen it before, an' hiseyes is bad, too. They've stirred him up an' pickled all the good heever had. Some day he'll do a murder. "

"I wonder what he means by always saying he'll have revenge beforespring. It makes me creep to hear him cackle and gloat. I thinkhe's going crazy. "

"Can't tell. This bunch would bust anybody's mental tugs, an' theymake a mistake drivin' him so. Say! How's my gums look tonight?"George stretched his lips back, showing his teeth, while Captain madecareful examination. 

"All right. How are mine?"

"Red as a berry. "

Every day they searched thus for the symptoms, looking fordiscolouration, and anxiously watching bruises on limb or body. Menlive in fear when their comrades vanish silently from their midst. Each night upon retiring they felt legs nervously, punching here andthere to see that the flesh retained its resiliency. 

So insidious is the malady's approach that it may be detected onlythus. A lassitude perhaps, a rheumatic laziness, or pains andswelling at the joints. Mayhap one notes a putty-like softness ofthe lower limbs. Where he presses, the finger mark remains, fillingup sluggishly. No mental depression at first, nor fever, only adrooping ambition, fatigue, enlarging parts, now gradual, now sudden. 

The grim humour of seeing grown men gravely poking their legs withrigid digits, or grinning anxiously into hand-mirrors had struck someof the tenderfeet at first, but the implacable progress of thedisease; its black, merciless presence, pausing destructively hereand there, had terrorized them into a hopeless fatalism till theycowered helplessly, awaiting its touch. 

One night Captain announced to his partner. "I'm going over to theFrenchmen's, I hear Menard is down. "

"What's the use of buttin' in where ye ain't wanted? As fer me, themfrogeaters can all die like salmon; I won't go nigh 'em an' I've told'em so. I give 'em good advice, an' what'd I get? What'd that daffydoctor do? Pooh-poohed at me an' physiced them. Lord! Physic a manwith scurvy--might as well bleed a patient fer amputation. " Georgespoke with considerable heat. 

Captain pulled his parka hood well down so that the fox-tails aroundthe edge protected his features, and stepped out into the evening. He had made several such trips in the past few months to call on mensmitten with the sickness, but all to no effect. Being "chechakos"they were supreme in their conceit, and refused to heed his advice. 

Returning at bed time he found his partner webbing a pair ofsnow-shoes by the light of a stinking "go-devil, " consisting of astring suspended in a can of molten grease. The camp had sold themgrub, but refused the luxury of candles. Noting his gravity, Georgequestioned:

"Well, how's Menard?"

"Dead!" Captain shook himself as though at the memory. "It wasawful. He died while I was talking to him. "

"Don't say! How's that?"

"I found him propped up in a chair. He looked bad, but said he wasfeeling fine--"

"That's the way they go. I've seen it many a time--feelin' fineplumb to the last. "

"He'd been telling me about a bet he had with Promont. Promont wastaken last week, too, you know, same time. Menard bet him twentydollars that he'd outlast him. "

"'I'm getting all right, ' says he, 'but poor Promont's going to die. I'll get his twenty, sure!' I turned to josh with the boy a bit, an'when I spoke to Menard he didn't answer. His jaw had sagged and he'dsettled in his chair. Promont saw it, too, and cackled. 'H'I 'avewin de bet! H'I 'ave win de bet!' That's all. He just slid off. Gee! It was horrible. "

George put by his work and swore, pacing the rough pole floor. 

"Oh, the cussed fools! That makes six dead from the one cabin--sixfrom eighteen, an' Promont'll make seven to-morrow. Do ye mind howwe begged 'em to quit that dug-out an' build a white man's house, an'drink spruce tea, an' _work_! They're too ---- lazy. They liearound in that hole, breath bad air, an' rot. "

"And just to think, if we only had a crate of potatoes in camp wecould save every man jack of 'em. Lord! They never even brought nocitric acid nor lime juice--nothin'! If we hadn't lost our grub whenthe whale-boat upset, eh? That ten-gallon keg of booze would helpsome. Say! I got such a thirst I don't never expect to squench itproper;" he spoke plaintively. 

"Klusky was here again while you was gone, too. I itch to choke thatJew whenever he gets to ravin' over these people. He's sure losin'his paystreak. He gritted his teeth an' foamed like a mad malamoot, I never see a low-downer lookin' aspect than him when he gets mad. "

"'I'll make 'em come to me, ' says he, 'on their bellies beggin'. Itain't time yet. Oh, no! Wait 'till half of 'em is dead, an' therest is rotten with scurvy. Then they'll crawl to me with their gumsthick and black, an' their flesh like dough; they'll kiss my feet an'cry, an' I'll stamp 'em into the snow!' You'd ought a heard himlaugh. Some day I'm goin' to lay a hand on that man, right in my ownhouse. "

As they prepared for bed. Captain remarked:

"By the way, speaking of potatoes, I heard to-night that there was acrate in the Frenchmen's outfit somewhere, put in by mistake. Perhaps, but when they boated their stuff up river last fall itcouldn't be found--must have been lost. "

It was some days later that, returning from a gameless hunt, Captainstaggered into camp, weary from the drag of his snow-shoes. 

Throwing himself into his bunk he rested while George prepared themeagre meal of brown beans, fried salt pork, and sour-dough bread. The excellence of this last, due to the whaler's years of practice, did much to mitigate the unpleasantness of the milkless, butterless, sugarless menu. 

Captain's fatigue prevented notice of the other's bearing. However, when he had supped and the dishes were done George spoke, quietly andwithout emotion. 

"Well, boy, the big thing has come off. "

"What do you mean?"

For reply he took the grease dip and, holding it close, bared histeeth. 

With a cry Captain leaped from his bunk, and took his face betweenhis hands. 

"Great God! George!"

He pushed back the lips. Livid blotches met his gaze--the gumsswollen and discoloured. He dropped back sick and pale, staring athis bulky comrade, dazed and uncomprehending. 

Carefully replacing the lamp, George continued:

"I felt it comin' quite a while back, pains in my knees an' allthat--thought mebbe you'd notice me hobblin' about. I can't gitaround good--feel sort of stove up an' spavined on my feet. "

"Yes, yes, but we've lived clean, and exercised, and drank sprucetea, and--everything, " cried the other. 

"I know, but I've had a touch before; it's in my blood I reckon. Toomuch salt grub; too many winters on the coast. She never took me sosudden an' vicious though. Guess the stuff's off. "

"Don't talk that way, " said Captain, sharply. "You're not going todie--I won't let you. "

"Vat's the mattaire?" came a leering voice and, turning they beheldKlusky, the renegade. He had entered silently, as usual, and nowdarted shrewd inquiring glances at them. 

"George has the scurvy. "

"Oi! Oi! Oi! Vat a peety. " He seemed about to say more butrefrained, coming forward rubbing his hands nervously. 

"It ain't possible that a 'sour dough' shall have the scoivy. "

"Well, he has it--has it bad but I'll cure him. Yes, and I'll savethis whole ---- camp, whether they want it or not. " Captain spokestrongly, his jaws set with determination. Klusky regarded himnarrowly through close shrunk eyes, while speculation wrinkled hislow forehead. 

"Of course! Yes! But how shall it be, eh? Tell me that. " Hiseagerness was pronounced. 

"I'll go to St. Michaels and bring back fresh grub. "

"You can't do it, boy, " said George. "It's too far an' there ain't adog in camp. You couldn't haul your outfit alone, an' long beforeyou'd sledded grub back I'd be wearin' one of them gleamin' orioles, I believe that's what they call it, on my head, like the pictures ofthem little fat angelettes. I ain't got no ear for music, so I'llhave to cut out the harp solos. "

"Quit that talk, will you?" said Captain irritably. "Of course, oneman can't haul an outfit that far, but two can, so I'm going to takeKlusky with me. " He spoke with finality, and the Jew started, gazingqueerly. "We'll go light, and drive back a herd of reindeer. "

"By thunder! I'd clean forgot the reindeer. The government wasaimin' to start a post there last fall, wasn't it? Say! Mebbe youcan make it after all, Kid. " His features brightened hopefully. "What d' ye say, Klusky?"

The one addressed answered nervously, almost with excitement. 

"It can't be done! It ain't possible, and I ain't strong enough topull the sled. V'y don't you and George go together. I'll stay--"

Captain laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

"That'll do. What are you talking about? George wouldn't last twodays, and you know it. Now listen. You don't have to go, youinfernal greasy dog, there are others in camp, and one of them willgo if I walk him at the muzzle of a gun. I gave you first chance, because we've been good to you. Now get out. "

He snatched him from his seat and hurled him at the door, where hefell in a heap. 

Klusky arose, and, although his eyes snapped wildly and he trembled, he spoke insidiously, with oily modulation. 

"Vait a meenute, Meestaire Captain, vait a meenute. I didn't say Ivouldn't go. Oi! Oi! Vat a man! Shoor I'll go. Coitenly! Youhave been good to me and they have been devils. I hope they die. "He shook a bony fist in the direction of the camp, while his voicetook on its fanatical shrillness. "They shall be in h---- before Ihelp them, the pigs, but you--ah, you have been my friends, yes ?"

"All right; be here at daylight, " said Captain gruffly. Anger cameslowly to him, and its trace was even slower in its leaving. 

"I don't like him, " said George, when he had slunk out. "He ain't onthe level. Watch him close, boy, he's up to some devilment. "

"Keep up your courage, old man. I'll be back in twelve days. "Captain said it with decision, though his heart sank as he felt theuncertainties before him. 

George looked squarely into his eyes. 

"God bless ye, boy, " he said. "I've cabined with many a man, butnever one like you. I'm a hard old nut, an' I ain't worth whatyou're goin' to suffer, but mebbe you can save these other idiots. That's what we're put here for, to help them as is too ornery to helptheirselves. " He smiled at Captain, and the young man left himblindly. He seldom smiled, and to see it now made his partner'sbreast heave achingly. 

"Good old George!" he murmured as they pulled out upon the river. "Good old George!" As they passed from the settlement an Indian cameto the door of the last hovel. 

"Hello. There's a Siwash in your cabin, " said Captain. "What is hedoing there ?"

"That's all right, " rejoined Klusky. "I told him to stay and vatcht'ings. "

"Rather strange, " thought the other. "I wonder what there is towatch. There's never been any stealing around here. "

To the unversed, a march by sled would seem simplicity. In realitythere is no more discouraging test than to hit the trail, dogless andby strength of back. The human biped cannot drag across the snow forany distance more than its own weight; hence equipment is of thesimplest. At that, the sledge rope galls one's neck with acontinual, endless, yielding drag, resulting in back pains peculiarto itself. It is this eternal maddening pull, with the pitifulcrawling gait that tells; horse's labour and a snail's pace. Thetoil begets a perspiration which the cold solidifies midway throughthe garments. At every pause the clammy clothes grow chill, forcingone forward, onward, with sweating body and freezing face. Inextreme cold, snow pulverizes dryly till steel runners drag as thoughslid through sand. Occasional overflows bar the stream from bank tobank, resulting in wet feet and quick changes by hasty fires to savenumb toes. Now the air is dead under a smother of falling flakesthat fluff up ankle deep, knee deep, till the sled plunges alongbehind, half buried, while the men wallow and invent ingenious oaths. Again the wind whirls it by in grotesque goblin shapes; wonderfulstorm beings, writhing, whipping, biting as they pass; erasing bankand mountain. Yet always there is that aching, steady tug of theshoulder-rope, stopping circulation till the arms depend numbly; andalways the weary effort of trail breaking. 

Captain felt that he had never worked with a more unsatisfying teammate. Not that Klusky did not pull, he evidently did his best, buthe never spoke, while the other grew ever conscious of the beady, glittering eyes boring into his back. At camp, the Jew watched himfurtively, sullenly, till he grew to feel oppressed, as with a senseof treachery, or some fell design hidden far back. Every morning hesecured the ropes next the sled, thus forcing Captain to walk ahead. He did not object to the added task of breaking trail, for he hadexpected the brunt of the work, but the feeling of suspicionincreased till it was only by conscious effort that he drove himselfto turn his back upon the other and take up the journey. 

It was this oppression that warned him on the third day. Leaning ashe did against the sled ropes he became aware of an added burden, asthough the man behind had eased to shift his harness. When it didnot cease he glanced over his shoulder. Keyed up as he was thisnervous agility saved him. 

Klusky held a revolver close up to his back, and, though he hadunconsciously failed to pull, he mechanically stepped in the other'stracks. The courage to shoot had failed him momentarily, but asCaptain turned, it came, and he pulled the trigger. 

Frozen gun oil has caused grave errors in calculation. The hammercurled back wickedly and stuck. Waiting his chance he had carriedthe weapon in an outer pocket where the frost had stiffened thegrease. Had it been warmed next his body, the fatal check would nothave occurred. Even so, he pulled again and it exploded sharp anddeafening in the rarefied morning air. In that instant's pause, however, Captain had whirled so that the bullet tore through theloose fur beneath his arm. He struck, simultaneously with thereport, and the gun flew outward, disappearing in the snow. 

They grappled and fell, rolling in a tangle of rope, Klusky fightingwith rat-like fury, whining odd, broken curses. The larger mancrushed him in silence, beating him into the snow, bent on killinghim with his hands. 

[Illustration: They grappled and fell, rolling in a tangle of rope. ]

As the other's struggles diminished, he came to himself, however, anddesisted. 

"I can't kill him, " he thought in panic. "I can't go on alone. "

"Get up!" He kicked the bleeding figure till it arose lamely. "Whydid you do that?" His desire to strangle the life from him wasover-powering. 

The man gave no answer, muttering only unintelligible jargon, hiseyes ablaze with hatred. 

"Tell me. " He shook him by the throat but received no reply. Norcould he, try as he pleased; only a stubborn silence. At last, disgusted and baffled, he bade him resume the rope. It was necessaryto use force for this, but eventually they took up the journey, differing now only in their order of precedence. 

"If you make a move I'll knife you, " he cautioned grimly. "That goesfor the whole trip, too. "

At evening he searched the grub kit, breaking knives and forks, andthose articles which might be used as means of offence, throwing thepieces into the snow. 

"Don't stir during the night, or I might kill you. I wake easy, andhereafter we'll sleep together. " Placing the weapons within hisshirt, he bound the other's wrists and rolled up beside him. 

Along the coast, their going became difficult from the rough ice andsoft snow, and with despair Captain felt the days going by. Kluskymaintained his muteness and, moreover, to the anger of his captor, began to shirk. It became necessary to beat him. This Captain didrelentlessly, deriving a certain satisfaction from it, yet marvellingthe while at his own cruelty. The Jew feigned weariness, and beganto limp as though foot-sore. 

Captain halted him at last. 

"Don't try that game, " he said. "It don't go. I spared your lifefor a purpose. The minute you stop pulling, that minute I'll sinkthis into your ribs. " He prodded him with his sheath knife. "Getalong now, or I'll make you haul it alone. " He kicked him intoresentful motion again, for he had come to look upon him as ananimal, and was heedless of his signs of torture--so thus theymarched; master and slave. "He's putting it on, " he thought, butabuse as he might, the other's efforts became weaker, and his agonymore marked as the days passed. 

The morning came when he refused to arise. 

"Get up!"

Klusky shook his head. 

"Get up, I say!" Captain spoke fiercely, and snatched him to foot, but with a groan the man sank back. Then, at last, he talked. 

"I can't do it. I can't do it. My legs make like they von't vork. You can kill me, but I can't valk. "

As he ceased, Captain leaned down and pushed back his lips. Theteeth were loose and the gums livid. 

"Great Heavens, what have I done! _What have I done_!" he muttered. 

Klusky had watched his face closely. 

"Vat's the mattaire? Vy do you make like that, eh? Tell me. " Hisvoice was sharp. 

"You've got it. "

"I've got it? Oi! Oi! I've got it! Vat have I got?" He knewbefore the answer came, but raved and cursed in frenzied denial. Histongue started, language flowed from him freely. 

"It ain't that. No! No! It is the rheumatissen. Yes, it shall beso. It makes like that from the hard vork always. It is thecold--the cold makes it like. "

With despair Captain realized that he could neither go on, draggingthe sick man and outfit, nor could he stay here in idleness tosacrifice the precious days that remained to his partner. Each onehe lost might mean life or death. 

Klusky broke in upon him. 

"You von't leave me, Mistaire Captain? Please you von't go avay?"

Such frightened entreaty lay in his request that before thinking theother replied. 

"No, I won't. I made you come and I'll do all I can for you. Maybesomebody will pass. " He said it only to cheer, for no one travelledthis miserable stretch save scattering, half-starved Indians, but thepatient caught at it eagerly, hugging the hope to his breast duringthe ensuing days. 

That vigil beside the dying creature lived long in Captain's memory. The bleak, timberless shores of the bay; their tiny tent, crouchedfearfully among the willow tops; the silent nights, when in theclear, cold air the stars stared at him close and big, like eyes ofwolves beyond a camp fire; the days of endless gabblings from thesinking man, and the all pervading cold. 

At last, knowledge dawned upon the invalid, and he called hiscompanion to his side. Shivering there beneath the thin tent, Captain heard a story, rambling at first, filled with hatred andbitterness toward the men who had scoffed at him, yet at the last helistened eagerly, amazedly, and upon its conclusion rose suddenly, gazing at the dying man in horror. 

"My God, Klusky! Hell isn't black enough for you. It can't be true, it can't be. You're raving! Do you mean to say that you let thosepoor devils die like rats while you had potatoes in your cabin, freshones? Man! Man! The juice of every potato was worth a life. You're lying, Klusky. "

"I ain't. No, I ain't. I hate them! I said they should crawl ontheir bellies to me. Yes, and I should wring the money out. Ahundred dollars for von potato. I stole them all. Ha! ha! and Ikept them varm. Oh, yes! Alvays varm by the fire, so they shall begood and fine for the day. "

"That's why you left the Indian there when we came away, eh? To keepa fire. "

"Shoor! and I thought I shall kill you and go back alone so nobodyshall make for the rescue. Then I should have the great laugh. "

Captain bared his head to the cold outside the tent. He was dazed bythe thought of it. The man was crazed by abuse. The camp had paidfor its folly!

Then a hope sprang up in him. It was too late to go on and returnwith the deer; that is, too late for George, and he thought only ofhim; of the big, brave man sitting alone in the cabin, shunned by theothers, waiting quietly for his coming, tracing the relentless dailymarch of the disease. Why didn't the Jew die so he could flee back?He had promised not to desert him, and he could not break his word toa dying man, even though the wretch deserved damnation. But whycouldn't he die? What made him hang on so? In his idle hours hearranged a pack for the start, assembling his rations. He could notbe hampered by the sled. This was to be a race--he must travel longand fast. The sick man saw the preparations, and cried weakly, thetears freezing on his cheeks, and still he lingered, lingeredmaddeningly, till at last, when Captain had lost count of the days, he passed without a twitch and, before the body had cooled, thenorthward bluffs hid the plodding, snow-shoed figure hurrying alongthe back trail. 

He scarcely stopped for sleep or food, but gnawed raw bacon andfrozen bread, swinging from shoe to shoe, devouring distance with thesteady, rhythmic pace of a machine. He made no fires. As darknesssettled, rendering progress a peril, he unrolled his robe, andburrowed into some overhanging drift, and the earliest hint of dawnfound him miles onward. 

Though the weather was clear, he grew numbed and careless under thestrain of his fatigue, so that the frost bit hungrily at hisfeatures. He grew gaunt, and his feet swelled from the snow-shoethongs till they puffed out his loose, sealskin boots, and every stepin the morning hours brought forth a groan. 

He was tortured by the thought that perhaps the Indian had carelesslylet go the fire in Klusky's cabin. If so, the precious potatoeswould freeze in a night. Then, if the native rebuilt it, he wouldarrive only to find a mushy, putrifying mass, worse than useless. The uncertainty sickened him, and at last, as he sighted the littlehamlet, he paused, bracing his legs apart weakly. 

He searched fearfully for traces of smoke above Klusky's cabin. There were none. Somehow the lone shack seemed to stare malignantlyat him, as he staggered up the trail, and he heard himself muttering. There were no locks in this land, so he entered unbidden. The placewas empty, though warm from recent habitation. With his remainingstrength he scrambled up a rude ladder to the loft where he fumbledin the dark while his heart stopped. Then he cried hoarsely and, ripping open the box, stuffed them gloatingly into pockets and shirtfront. He dropped from the platform and fled out through the opendoor, capless and mittenless; out and on toward the village. 

His pace slackened suddenly, for he noted with a shock that, likeKlusky's cabin, no smoke drifted over the house toward which he ran, and, drawing near, he saw that snow lay before the door; clean, white, and untrodden. He was too dazed to recall the light fall ofthe night previous, but glared blankly at the idle pipe; at the coldand desolate front. 

"Too late!" he murmured brokenly. "Too late!" and stumbled to thesnow-cushioned chopping block. 

He dared not go in. Evidently the camp had let George die; had nevercome near to lift a hand. He was afraid of what lay within, afraidto face it alone. Yet a dreadful need to know pulled him forward. Three times he approached the door, retreating each time in panic. At last he laid soft hands upon the latch and entered, averting hiseyes. Even so, and despite the darkness inside, he was conscious ofit; saw from his eye corners the big, still bulk that sat wrapped andpropped in the chair by the table. He sensed it dazedly, inductively, and turned to flee, then paused. 

"Ye made it, boy! It's the twelfth to-day. " George's voice cameweakly, and with a great cry Captain sprang to him. 

"Bout all in, " the other continued. "Ain't been on my feet for twodays. I knowed you'd come to-day, though; it's the twelfth. "

Captain made no reply, for he had knelt, his face buried in the bigman's lap, his shoulders heaving, while he cried like a little boy.