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Project Gutenberg's The Valley of Silen
Men, by James Oliver Curwood
This eBook is for the use of anyon
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Title: The Valley of Silent Men
Author: James Oliver Curwood
Release Date: July 14, 2009 [EBook #29407
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOO
THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN ***
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Thanks to Al Haines, based on the
non-illustrated version, at
www.gutenberg.org/etext/4707
Thanks to Robert Rowe, Charles Franks an
the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
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From the girl's revolver leaped forth a
sudden spurt of smoke and flame.
THE VALLEY OF
SILENT MEN
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A STORY OF THE
THREE RIVER
COUNTRY
BY
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JAMES OLIVER
CURWOOD
AUTHOR OF "THE RIVER'S END,"
ETC.
CHAPTER
I
CHAPTER
II
CHAPTER
III
CHAP
IV
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CHAPTER
VI
CHAPTER
VII
CHAPTER
VIII
CHAP
IX
CHAPTER
XI
CHAPTER
XII
CHAPTER
XIII
CHAP
XIV
CHAPTER
XVI
CHAPTER
XVII
CHAPTER
XVIII
CHAP
XIX
CHAPTERXXI CHAPTERXXII CHAPTERXXIII CHAPXXIV
CHAPTER
XXVI
THE VALLEY OF
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SILENT MEN
Before the railroad's thin lines of stee
bit their way up through the wilderness
Athabasca Landing was the picturesquhreshold over which one must step wh
would enter into the mystery an
adventure of the great white North. It i
stillIskwatamthe "door" which open
o the lower reaches of the Athabasca, th
Slave, and the Mackenzie. It is somewha
difficult to find on the map, yet it is therebecause its history is written in more tha
a hundred and forty years of romance an
ragedy and adventure in the lives of men
and is not easily forgotten. Over the ol
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rail it was about a hundred and fifty mile
north of Edmonton. The railroad ha
brought it nearer to that base o
civilization, but beyond it the wildernesstill howls as it has howled for a thousan
years, and the waters of a continent flow
north and into the Arctic Ocean. It i
possible that the beautiful dream of threal-estate dealers may come true, for th
most avid of all the sportsmen of the earth
he money-hunters, have come up on th
bumpy railroad that sometimes lights it
sleeping cars with lanterns, and with the
have come typewriters, and stenographers
and the art of printing advertisements, anhe Golden Rule of those who sel
handfuls of earth to hopeful purchaser
housands of miles away"Do others a
hey would do you." And with it, too, ha
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come the legitimate business of barter an
rade, with eyes on all that treasure of th
orth which lies between the Gran
Rapids of the Athabasca and the edge ohe polar sea. But still more beautiful tha
he dream of fortunes quickly made is th
deep-forest superstition that the spirits o
he wilderness dead move onward asteam and steel advance, and if this is so
he ghosts of a thousand Pierres an
Jacquelines have risen uneasily from thei
graves at Athabasca Landing, hunting
new quiet farther north.
For it was Pierre and Jacqueline, Henr
and Marie, Jacques and his Jeanne, whos
brown hands for a hundred and forty year
opened and closed this door. And those
hands still master a savage world for tw
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housand miles north of that threshold o
Athabasca Landing. South of it a wheez
engine drags up the freight that came no
so many months ago by boat.
It is over this threshold that the dark eye
of Pierre and Jacqueline, Henri an
Marie, Jacques and his Jeanne, look inthe blue and the gray and the sometime
watery ones of a destroying civilization
And there it is that the shriek of a ma
ocomotive mingles with their age-olriver chants; the smut of coal drifts ove
heir forests; the phonograph screeches it
reply to le violon; and Pierre and Henr
and Jacques no longer find themselves th
kings of the earth when they come in fro
far countries with their precious cargoe
of furs. And they no longer swagger and
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ell loud-voiced adventure, or sing thei
wild river songs in the same old abandon
for there are streets at Athabasca Landin
now, and hotels, and schools, and ruleand regulations of a kind new an
errifying to the bold of the old voyageurs
It seems only yesterday that the railroawas not there, and a great world o
wilderness lay between the Landing an
he upper rim of civilization. And whe
word first came that a steam thing waeating its way up foot by foot throug
forest and swamp and impassable muskeg
hat word passed up and down the water
ways for two thousand miles, a colossa
oke, a stupendous bit of drollery, th
funniest thing that Pierre and Henri an
Jacques had heard in all their lives. And
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when Jacques wanted to impress upo
Pierre his utter disbelief of a thing, h
would say:
"It will happen, m'sieu, when the stea
hing comes to the Landing, when cow
beasts eat with the moose, and when ou
bread is found for us in yonder swamps!"
And the steam thing came, and cow
grazed where moose had fed, and brea
WAS gathered close to the edge of thegreat swamps. Thus did civilization brea
nto Athabasca Landing.
Northward from the Landing, for twhousand miles, reached the domain of th
rivermen. And the Landing, with its two
hundred and twenty-seven souls before th
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railroad came, was the wildernes
clearing-house which sat at the beginnin
of things. To it came from the south all the
freight which must go into the north; on itflat river front were built the great scow
which carried this freight to the end of th
earth. It was from the Landing that th
greatest of all river brigades set fortupon their long adventures, and it wa
back to the Landing, perhaps a year o
more later, that still smaller scows and
huge canoes brought as the price o
exchange their cargoes of furs.
Thus for nearly a century and a half th
arger craft, with their great sweeps an
heir wild-throated crews, had gone dow
he river toward the Arctic Ocean, and th
smaller craft, with their still wilde
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crews, had come up the river towar
civilization. The River, as the Landin
speaks of it, is the Athabasca, with it
headwaters away off in the BritisColumbian mountains, where Baptiste an
McLeod, explorers of old, gave up thei
ives to find where the cradle of it lay
And it sweeps past the Landing, a slowand mighty giant, unswervingly on its wa
o the northern sea. With it the rive
brigades set forth. For Pierre and Henr
and Jacques it is going from one end to th
other of the earth. The Athabasca ends and
s replaced by the Slave, and the Slav
empties into Great Slave Lake, and frohe narrow tip of that Lake the Mackenzi
carries on for more than a thousand mile
o the sea.
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In this distance of the long water trai
one sees and hears many things. It is life
t is adventure. It is mystery and romanc
and hazard. Its tales are so many thabooks could not hold them. In the faces o
men and women they are written. They li
buried in graves so old that the forest tree
grow over them. Epics of tragedy, of loveof the fight to live! And as one goe
farther north, and still farther, just so do
he stories of things that have happene
change.
For the world is changing, the sun i
changing, and the breeds of men ar
changing. At the Landing in July there ar
seventeen hours of sunlight; at For
Chippewyan there are eighteen; at For
Resolution, Fort Simpson, and For
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Providence there are nineteen; at the Grea
Bear twenty-one, and at Fort McPherson
close to the polar sea, from twenty-two t
wenty-three. And in December there aralso these hours of darkness. With ligh
and darkness men change, women change
and life changes. And Pierre and Henr
and Jacques meet them all, but alwayTHEY are the same, chanting the old
songs, enshrining the old loves, dreamin
he same dreams, and worshiping alway
he same gods. They meet a thousan
perils with eyes that glisten with the lov
of adventure.
The thunder of rapids and the howling
of storm do not frighten them. Death ha
no fear for them. They grapple with it
wrestle joyously with it, and are gloriou
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when they win. Their blood is red an
strong. Their hearts are big. Their soul
chant themselves up to the skies. Yet they
are simple as children, and when they arafraid, it is of things which children fear
For in those hearts of theirs is superstitio
and also, perhaps, royal blood. Fo
princes and the sons of princes and thnoblest aristocracy of France were th
first of the gentlemen adventurers wh
came with ruffles on their sleeves an
rapiers at their sides to seek furs wort
many times their weight in gold tw
hundred and fifty years ago, and of thes
ancient forebears Pierre and Henri anJacques, with their Maries and Jeanne
and Jacquelines, are the living voices o
oday.
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And these voices tell many stories
Sometimes they whisper them, as the win
would whisper, for there are stories weir
and strange that must be spoken softlyThey darken no printed pages. The tree
isten to them beside red camp-fires a
night. Lovers tell them in the glad sunshin
of day. Some of them are chanted in songSome of them come down through th
generations, epics of the wilderness
remembered from father to son. And eac
year there are the new things to pass fro
mouth to mouth, from cabin to cabin, fro
he lower reaches of the Mackenzie to th
far end of the world at Athabasca LandingFor the three rivers are always makers o
romance, of tragedy, of adventure. Th
story will never be forgotten of how
Follette and Ladouceur swam their ma
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race through the Death Chute for love o
he girl who waited at the other end, or o
how Campbell O'Doone, the red-heade
giant at Fort Resolution, fought the wholof a great brigade in his effort to run awa
with a scow captain's daughter.
And the brigade loved O'Doone, thougt beat him, for these men of the stron
north love courage and daring. The epic o
he lost scowhow there were men wh
saw it disappear from under their vereyes, floating upward and afterwar
riding swiftly away in the skiesis tol
and retold by strong-faced men, deep i
whose eyes are the smoldering flames o
an undying superstition, and these sam
men thrill as they tell over again th
strange and unbelievable story o
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Hartshope, the aristocratic Englishma
who set off into the North in all the glor
of monocle and unprecedented luggage
and how he joined in a tribal war, becama chief of the Dog Ribs, and married
dark-eyed, sleek-haired, little India
beauty, who is now the mother of hi
children.
But deepest and most thrilling of all th
stories they tell are the stories of the lon
arm of the Lawthat arm which reachefor two thousand miles from Athabasc
Landing to the polar sea, the arm Of th
Royal Northwest Mounted Police.
And of these it is the story of Jim Ken
we are going to tell, of Jim Kent and o
Marette, that wonderful little goddess o
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he Valley of Silent Men, in whose vein
here must have run the blood of fightin
menand of ancient queens. A story o
he days before the railroad came.
CHAPTER I
In the mind of James Grenfell Ken
sergeant in the Royal Northwest Mounte
Police, there remained no shadow of
doubt. He knew that he was dying. He hamplicit faith in Cardigan, his surgeo
friend, and Cardigan had told him tha
what was left of his life would b
measured out in hoursperhaps i
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minutes or seconds. It was an unusua
case. There was one chance in fifty that h
might live two or three days, but there wa
no chance at all that he would live morhan three. The end might come with an
breath he drew into his lungs. That wa
he pathological history of the thing, as fa
as medical and surgical science knew ocases similar to his own.
Personally, Kent did not feel like a dyin
man. His vision and his brain were clearHe felt no pain, and only at infrequen
ntervals was his temperature abov
normal. His voice was particularly cal
and natural.
At first he had smiled incredulousl
when Cardigan broke the news. That th
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bullet which a drunken half-breed had sen
nto his chest two weeks before ha
nicked the arch of the aorta, thus formin
an aneurism, was a statement by Cardigawhich did not sound especially wicked o
convincing to him. "Aorta" and "aneurism
held about as much significance for him a
his perichondrium or the process of histylomastoid. But Kent possessed a
unswerving passion to grip at facts i
detail, a characteristic that had largel
helped him to earn the reputation of bein
he best man-hunter in all the northlan
service. So he had insisted, and hi
surgeon friend had explained.
The aorta, he found, was the main blood
vessel arching over and leading from th
heart, and in nicking it the bullet had s
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weakened its outer wall that it bulged ou
n the form of a sack, just as the inner tub
of an automobile tire bulges through th
outer casing when there is a blowout.
"And when that sack gives way insid
you," Cardigan had explained, "you'll g
ike that!" He snapped a forefinger anhumb to drive the fact home.
After that it was merely a matter o
common sense to believe, and now, surhat he was about to die. Kent had acted
He was acting in the full health of hi
mind and in extreme cognizance of th
paralyzing shock he was contributing as
final legacy to the world at large, or a
east to that part of it which knew him o
was interested. The tragedy of the thin
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did not oppress him. A thousand times in
his life he had discovered that humor an
ragedy were very closely related, and tha
here were times when only the breadth oa hair separated the two. Many times h
had seen a laugh change suddenly to tears
and tears to laughter.
The tableau, as it presented itself abou
his bedside now, amused him. Its humo
was grim, but even in these last hours o
his life he appreciated it. He had alwaymore or less regarded life as a joke
very serious joke, but a joke for all that
a whimsical and trickful sort of thin
played by the Great Arbiter on humanity a
arge; and this last count in his own life
as it was solemnly and tragically tickin
tself off, was the greatest joke of all. Th
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amazed faces that stared at him, thei
passing moments of disbelief, thei
repressed but at times visible betrayals o
horror, the steadiness of their eyes, thenseness of their lipsall added to wha
he might have called, at another time, th
dramatic artistry of his last grea
adventure.
That he was dying did not chill him, o
make him afraid, or put a tremble into hi
voice. The contemplation of throwing ofhe mere habit of breathing had never a
any stage of his thirty-six years of lif
appalled him. Those years, because h
had spent a sufficient number of them i
he raw places of the earth, had given hi
a philosophy and viewpoint of his own
both of which he kept unto himself withou
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effort to impress them on other people. H
believed that life itself was the cheapes
hing on the face of all the earth. All othe
hings had their limitations.
There was so much water and so muc
and, so many mountains and so man
plains, so many square feet to live on anso many square feet to be buried in. Al
hings could be measured, and stood up
and cataloguedexcept life itself. "Give
ime," he would say, "a single pair ohumans can populate all creation.
Therefore, being the cheapest of all things
t was true philosophy that life should b
he easiest of all things to give up whe
he necessity came.
Which is only another way o
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emphasizing that Kent was not, and neve
had been, afraid to die. But it does not sa
hat he treasured life a whit less than th
man in another room, who, a day or sbefore, had fought like a lunatic befor
going under an anesthetic for th
amputation of a bad finger. No man had
oved life more than he. No man had livenearer it.
It had been a passion with him. Full o
dreams, and always with anticipationahead, no matter how far short realization
fell, he was an optimist, a lover of the su
and the moon and the stars, a worshiper o
he forests and of the mountains, a ma
who loved his life, and who had fought fo
t, and yet who was readyat the lastt
yield it up without a whimper when th
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fates asked for it.
Bolstered up against his pillows, he di
not look the part of the fiend he waconfessing himself to be to the peopl
about him. Sickness had not emaciate
him. The bronze of his lean, clean-cut fac
had faded a little, but the tanning of winand sun and campfire was still there. Hi
blue eyes were perhaps dulled somewha
by the nearness of death. One would no
have judged him to be thirty-six, evehough over one temple there was a strea
of gray in his blond haira heritage fro
his mother, who was dead. Looking a
him, as his lips quietly and calml
confessed himself beyond the pale o
men's sympathy or forgiveness, one woul
have said that his crime was impossible.
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Through his window, as he sat bolstered
up in his cot, Kent could see the slow
moving shimmer of the great Athabasc
River as it moved on its way toward thArctic Ocean. The sun was shining, and h
saw the cool, thick masses of the spruc
and cedar forests beyond, the risin
undulations of wilderness ridges and hillsand through that open window he caugh
he sweet scents that came with a sof
wind from out of the forests he had love
for so many years.
"They've been my best friends," he ha
said to Cardigan, "and when this nice littl
hing you're promising happens to me, ol
man, I want to go with my eyes on them."
So his cot was close to the window.
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Nearest to him sat Cardigan. In his face
more than in any of the others, wa
disbelief. Kedsty, Inspector of the Roya
orthwest Mounted Police, in charge of NDivision during an indefinite leave o
absence of the superintendent, was pale
even than the girl whose nervous finger
were swiftly putting upon paper everword that was spoken by those in th
room. O'Connor, staff-sergeant, was lik
one struck dumb. The little, smooth-face
Catholic missioner whose presence as
witness Kent had requested, sat with hi
hin fingers tightly interlaced, silentl
placing this among all the other strangragedies that the wilderness had given u
o him. They had all been Kent's friends
his intimate friends, with the exception o
he girl, whom Inspector Kedsty ha
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borrowed for the occasion. With the littl
missioner he had spent many an evening
exchanging in mutual confidence th
strange and mysterious happenings of thdeep forests, and of the great north beyon
he forests. O'Connor's friendship was
friendship bred of the brotherhood of th
rails. It was Kent and O'Connor who habrought down the two Eskimo murderer
from the mouth of the Mackenzie, and th
adventure had taken them fourteen months
Kent loved O'Connor, with his red face
his red hair, and his big heart, and to hi
he most tragic part of it all was that h
was breaking this friendship now.
But it was Inspector Kedsty
commanding N Division, the biggest an
wildest division in all the Northland, tha
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of latitude, with its farthest limit three an
one-half degrees within the Arctic Circle
To police this area meant upholding the
aw in a country fourteen times the size ohe state of Ohio. And Kedsty was the ma
who had performed this duty as only on
other man had ever succeeded in doing it.
Yet Kedsty, of the five about Kent, wa
most disturbed. His face was ash-gray. A
number of times Kent had detected
broken note in his voice. He had seen hihands grip at the arms of the chair he sat i
until the cords stood out on them as i
about to burst. He had never seen Kedst
sweat until now.
Twice the Inspector had wiped hi
forehead with a handkerchief. He was n
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onger Minisak"The Rock"a nam
given to him by the Crees. The armor tha
no shaft had ever penetrated seemed t
have dropped from him. He had ceased tbe Kedsty, the most dreaded inquisitor i
he service. He was nervous, and Ken
could see that he was fighting to reposses
himself.
"Of course you know what this means t
he Service," he said in a hard, low voice
"It means"
"Disgrace," nodded Kent. "I know. I
means a black spot on the otherwise brigh
escutcheon of N Division. But it can't b
helped. I killed John Barkley. The ma
you've got in the guard-house, condemne
o be hanged by the neck until he is dead
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s innocent. I understand. It won't be nic
for the Service to let it be known that
sergeant in His Majesty's Royal Mounte
s an ordinary murderer, but"
"Not an ordinarymurderer," interrupted
Kedsty. "As you have described it, th
crime was deliberatehorrible annexcusable to its last detail. You were
not moved by a sudden passion. You
ortured your victim. It is inconceivable!"
"And yet true," said Kent.
He was looking at the stenographer'
slim fingers as they put down his wordand Kedsty's. A bit of sunshine touched
her bowed head, and he observed the re
ights in her hair. His eyes swept to
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O'Connor, and in that moment th
commander of N Division bent over him
so close that his face almost touche
Kent's, and he whispered, in a voice sow that no one of the other four coul
hear,
"Kentyou lie!"
"No, it is true," replied Kent.
Kedsty drew back, again wiping thmoisture from his forehead.
"I killed Barkley, and I killed him as
planned that he should die," Kent went on"It was my desire that he should suffer
The one thing which I shall not tell you i
why I killed him. But it was a sufficien
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reason."
He saw the shuddering tremor that swep
hrough the shoulders of the girl who waputting down the condemning notes.
"And you refuse to confess you
motive?"
"Absolutelyexcept that he ha
wronged me in a way that deserve
death."
"And you make this confession knowin
hat you are about to die?"
The flicker of a smile passed ove
Kent's lips. He looked at O'Connor an
for an instant saw in O'Connor's eyes
flash of their old comradeship.
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"Yes. Dr. Cardigan has told me
Otherwise I should have let the man in th
guard-house hang. It's simply that thi
accursed bullet has spoiled my luckansaved him!"
Kedsty spoke to the girl. For half an hou
she read her notes, and after that Kenwrote his name on the last page. The
Kedsty rose from his chair.
"We have finished, gentlemen," he said.
They trailed out, the girl hurryin
hrough the door first in her desire to fre
herself of an ordeal that had straineevery nerve in her body. The commande
of N Division was last to go. Cardiga
hesitated, as if to remain, but Kedst
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motioned him on. It was Kedsty wh
closed the door, and as he closed it h
ooked back, and for a flash Kent met hi
eyes squarely. In that moment he receivedan impression which he had not caugh
while the Inspector was in the room. I
was like an electrical shock in it
unexpectedness, and Kedsty must havseen the effect of it in his face, for h
moved back quickly and closed the door
n that instant Kent had seen in Kedsty'
eyes and face a look that was not only o
horror, but what in the face and eyes o
another man he would have sworn wa
fear.
It was a gruesome moment in which t
smile, but Kent smiled. The shock wa
over. By the rules of the Criminal Code h
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knew that Kedsty even now wa
nstructing Staff-Sergeant O'Connor t
detail an officer to guard his door. Th
fact that he was ready to pop off at anmoment would make no difference in th
regulations of the law. And Kedsty was a
stickler for the law as it was written
Through the closed door he heard voicendistinctly. Then there were footsteps
dying away. He could hear the heav
hump, thump of O'Connor's big feet
O'Connor had always walked like that
even on the trail.
Softly then the door reopened, an
Father Layonne, the little missioner, cam
n. Kent knew that this would be so, fo
Father Layonne knew neither code no
creed that did not reach all the hearts o
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he wilderness. He came back, and sa
down close to Kent, and took one of hi
hands and held it closely in both of hi
own. They were not the soft, smooth handof the priestly hierarchy, but were hard
with the callosity of toil, yet gentle wit
he gentleness of a great sympathy. He had
oved Kent yesterday, when Kent hadstood clean in the eyes of both God an
men, and he still loved him today, when
his soul was stained with a thing that mus
be washed away with his own life.
"I'm sorry, lad," he said. "I'm sorry."
Something rose up in Kent's throat tha
was not the blood he had been wipin
away since morning. His fingers returne
he pressure of the little missioner's hands
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Then he pointed out through the window t
he panorama of shimmering river an
green forests.
"It is hard to say good-by to all that
Father," he said. "But, if you don't mind
'd rather not talk about it. I'm not afraid o
t. And why be unhappy because one haonly a little while to live? Looking bac
over your life, does it seem so very lon
ago that you were a boy, a small boy?"
"The time has gone swiftly, ver
swiftly."
"It seems only yesterdayor so?"
"Yes, only yesterdayor so."
Kent's face lit up with the whimsica
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smile that long ago had reached the littl
missioner's heart. "Well, that's the way I'm
ooking at it, Father. There is only
yesterday, a today, and a tomorrow in theongest of our lives. Looking back fro
seventy years isn't much different fro
ooking back from thirty-six when you'r
ooking back and not ahead. Do you thinwhat I have just said will free Sand
McTrigger?"
"There is no doubt. Your statementshave been accepted as a death-be
confession."
The little missioner, instead of Kent
was betraying a bit of nervousness.
"There are matters, my sonsome few
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matterswhich you will want attended to
Shall we not talk about them?"
"You mean"
"Your people, first. I remember tha
once you told me there was no one. Bu
surely there is some one somewhere."
Kent shook his head. "There is no on
now. For ten years those forests out ther
have been father, mother, and home tome."
"But there must be personal affairs
affairs which you would like to entrustperhaps, to me?"
Kent's face brightened, and for an instan
a flash of humor leaped into his eyes. "It i
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funny," he chuckled. "Since you remind m
of it, Father, it is quite in form to make m
will. I've bought a few little pieces of lan
here. Now that the railroad has almosreached us from Edmonton, they'v
umped up from the seven or eight hundre
dollars I gave for them to about te
housand. I want you to sell the lots anuse the money in your work. Put as muc
of it on the Indians as you can. They'v
always been good brothers to me. And
wouldn't waste much time in getting m
signature on some sort of paper to tha
effect."
Father Layonne's eyes shone softly
"God will bless you for that, Jimmy," h
said, using the intimate name by which h
had known him. "And I think He is goin
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o pardon you for something else, if yo
have the courage to ask Him."
"I am pardoned," replied Kent, lookinout through the window. "I feel it. I know
t, Father."
In his soul the little missioner wapraying. He knew that Kent's religion wa
not his religion, and he did not press th
service which he would otherwise hav
rendered. After a moment he rose to hifeet, and it was the old Kent who looke
up into his face, the clean-faced, gray
eyed, unafraid Kent, smiling in the ol
way.
"I have one big favor to ask of you
Father," he said. "If I've got a day to live,
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don't want every one forcing the fact o
me that I'm dying. If I've any friends left,
want them to come in and see me, and talk
and crack jokes. I want to smoke my pipe'll appreciate a box of cigars if you'l
send 'em up. Cardigan can't object now
Will you arrange these things for me
They'll listen to youand please shovmy cot a little nearer the window befor
you go."
Father Layonne performed the service isilence. Then at last the yearnin
overcame him to have the soul speak out
hat his God might be more merciful, an
he said: "My boy, you are sorry? You
repent that you killed John Barkley?"
"No, I'm not sorry. It had to be done
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And please don't forget the cigars, wil
you, Father?"
"No, I won't forget," said the littlmissioner, and turned away.
As the door opened and closed behin
him, the flash of humor leaped into Kent'eyes again, and he chuckled even as h
wiped another of the telltale stains o
blood from his lips. He had played th
game. And the funny part about it was thano one in all the world would ever know
except himselfand perhaps one other.
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CHAPTER II
Outside Kent's window was Spring, th
glorious Spring of the Northland, and i
spite of the death-grip that was tightenin
n his chest he drank it in deeply an
eaned over so that his eyes traveled ovewide spaces of the world that had been hi
only a short time before.
It occurred to him that he had suggestehis knoll that overlooked both settlemen
and river as the site for the building whic
Dr. Cardigan called his hospital. It was
structure rough and unadorned, unpaintedand sweetly smelling with the aroma o
he spruce trees from the heart of which it
unplaned lumber was cut. The breath of i
was a thing to bring cheer and hope. It
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silvery walls, in places golden and brow
with pitch and freckled with knots, spok
oyously of life that would not die, and th
woodpeckers came and hammered on it ahough it were still a part of the forest, an
red squirrels chattered on the roof an
scampered about in play with a soft patte
of feet.
"It's a pretty poor specimen of man tha
would die up here with all that under hi
eyes," Kent had said a year before, whehe and Cardigan had picked out the site
"If he died looking at that, why, he jus
simply ought to die, Cardigan," he ha
aughed.
And now he was that poor specimen
ooking out on the glory of the world!
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His vision took in the South and a part o
he East and West, and in all those
directions there was no end of the forest
t was like a vast, many-colored sea wituneven billows rising and falling until th
blue sky came down to meet them man
miles away. More than once his hear
ached at the thought of the two thin ribs osteel creeping up foot by foot and mile b
mile from Edmonton, a hundred and fift
miles away. It was, to him, a desecration
a crime against Nature, the murder of hi
beloved wilderness. For in his soul tha
wilderness had grown to be more than
hing of spruce and cedar and balsam, opoplar and birch; more than a grea
unused world of river and lake an
swamp. It was an individual, a thing. Hi
ove for it was greater than his love fo
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man. It was his inarticulate God. It hel
him as no religion in the world could hav
held him, and deeper and deeper it ha
drawn him into the soul of itselfdelivering up to him one by one it
guarded secrets and its mysteries, openin
for him page by page the book that was th
greatest of all books. And it was thwonder of it now, the fact that it was nea
him, about him, embracing him, glowin
for him in the sunshine, whispering to hi
n the soft breath of the air, nodding and
alking to him from the crest of ever
ridge, that gave to him a strange happines
even in these hours when he knew that hwas dying.
And then his eyes fell nearer to th
settlement which nestled along the edge o
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he shining river a quarter of a mile away
That, too, had been the wilderness, in th
days before the railroad came. The poiso
of speculation was stirring, but it had noyet destroyed. Athabasca Landing wa
still the door that opened and closed o
he great North. Its buildings wer
scattered and few, and built of logs andrough lumber. Even now he could hear th
drowsy hum of the distant sawmill tha
was lazily turning out its grist. Not fa
away the wind-worn flag of the Britis
Empire was floating over a Hudson Ba
Company's post that had bartered in th
rades of the North for more than hundred years. Through that hundred year
Athabasca Landing had pulsed with th
heart-beats of strong men bred to th
wilderness. Through it, working its wa
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by river and dog sledge from the South
had gone the precious freight for which th
farther North gave in exchange its stil
more precious furs. And today, as Kenooked down upon it, he saw that sam
activity as it had existed through the year
of a century. A brigade of scows, laden to
heir gunwales, was just sweeping out inthe river and into its current. Kent ha
watched the loading of them; now he saw
hem drifting lazily out from the shore
heir long sweeps glinting in the sun, thei
crews singing wildly and fiercely thei
beloved Chanson des Voyageurs as thei
faces turned to the adventure of the North.
In Kent's throat rose a thing which h
ried to choke back, but which broke fro
his lips in a low cry, almost a sob. H
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heard the distant singing, wild and free a
he forests themselves, and he wanted t
ean out of his window and shout a las
good-by. For the brigadea Companbrigade, the brigade that had chanted it
songs up and down the water reaches o
he land for more than two hundred an
fifty yearswas starting north. And hknew where it was goingnorth, and stil
farther north; a hundred miles, fiv
hundred, a thousandand then anothe
housand before the last of the scow
unburdened itself of its precious freigh
For the lean and brown-visaged men wh
went with them there would be manmonths of clean living and joyous thril
under the open skies. Overwhelmed by th
yearning that swept over him, Kent leane
back against his pillows and covered hi
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eyes.
In those moments his brain painted fo
him swiftly and vividly the things he waosing. Tomorrow or next day he would
be dead, and the river brigade would stil
be sweeping onon into the Gran
Rapids of the Athabasca, fighting thDeath Chute, hazarding valiantly the rock
and rapids of the Grand Cascade, th
whirlpools of the Devil's Mouth, th
hundering roar and boiling dragon teeth ohe Black Runon to the end of th
Athabasca, to the Slave, and into th
Mackenzie, until the last rock-blunte
nose of the outfit drank the tide-water o
he Arctic Ocean. And he, James Kent
would be DEAD!
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He uncovered his eyes, and there was
wan smile on his lips as he looked fort
once more. There were sixteen scows i
he brigade, and the biggest, he knew, wacaptained by Pierre Rossand. He coul
fancy Pierre's big red throat swelling i
mighty song, for Pierre's wife was waitin
for him a thousand miles away. The scowwere caught steadily now in the grip of th
river, and it seemed to Kent, as h
watched them go, that they were the las
fugitives fleeing from the encroachin
monsters of steel. Unconscious of the act
he reached out his arms, and his soul crie
out its farewell, even though his lips wersilent.
He was glad when they were gone an
when the voices of the chanting oarsme
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were lost in the distance. Again h
istened to the lazy hum of the sawmil
and over his head he heard the velvety ru
of a red squirrel and then its reckleschattering. The forests came back to him
Across his cot fell a patch of golde
sunlight. A stronger breath of air came
aden with the perfume of balsam ancedar through his window, and when th
door opened and Cardigan entered, h
found the old Kent facing him.
There was no change in Cardigan'
voice or manner as he greeted him. Bu
here was a tenseness in his face which h
could not conceal. He had brought i
Kent's pipe and tobacco. These he laid o
a table until he had placed his head clos
o Kent's hearty listening to what he calle
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he bruitthe rushing of blood through th
aneurismal sac.
"Seems to me that I can hear it myselnow and then," said Kent. "Worse, isn
t?"
Cardigan nodded. "Smoking may hurry iup a bit," he said. "Still, if you want to"
Kent held out his hand for the pipe an
obacco. "It's worth it. Thanks, old man."
Kent loaded the pipe, and Cardiga
ighted a match. For the first time in tw
weeks a cloud of smoke issued frobetween Kent's lips.
"The brigade is starting north," he said.
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"Mostly Mackenzie River freight,
replied Cardigan. "A long run."
"The finest in all the North. Three yearago O'Connor and I made it with th
Follette outfit. Remember Follettean
Ladouceur? They both loved the same gir
and being good friends they decided tsettle the matter by a swim through th
Death Chute. The man who came throug
first was to have her. Gawd, Cardigan
what funny things happen! Follette camout first, but he was dead. He'd braine
himself on a rock. And to this day
Ladouceur hasn't married the girl, becaus
he says Follette beat him; and tha
Follette's something-or-other would haun
him if he didn't play fair. It's a queer"
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He stopped and listened. In the hall wa
he approaching tread of unmistakabl
feet.
"O'Connor," he said.
Cardigan went to the door and opened i
as O'Connor was about to knock. Whehe door closed again, the staff-sergean
was in the room alone with Kent. In one o
his big hands he clutched a box of cigars
and in the other he held a bunch of vividlred fire-flowers.
"Father Layonne shoved these into m
hands as I was coming up," he explaineddropping them on the table. "And Iwel
I'm breaking regulations to come up an
ell you something, Jimmy. I never called
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you a liar in my life, but I'm calling yo
one now!"
He was gripping Kent's hands in thfierce clasp of a friendship that nothin
could kill. Kent winced, but the pain of i
was joy. He had feared that O'Connor
ike Kedsty, must of necessity turn againshim. Then he noticed something unusual i
O'Connor's face and eyes. The staff
sergeant was not easily excited, yet h
was visibly disturbed now.
"I don't know what the others saw, when
you were making that confession, Kent
Mebby my eyesight was better because
spent a year and a half with you on th
rail. You were lying. What's your game
old man?"
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Kent groaned. "Have I got to go all ove
t again?" he appealed.
O'Connor began thumping back and fortover the floor. Kent had seen him that way
sometimes in camp when there wer
perplexing problems ahead of them.
"You didn't kill John Barkley," he
nsisted. "I don't believe you did, an
nspector Kedsty doesn't believe itye
he mighty queer part of it is"
"What?"
"That Kedsty is acting on youconfession in a big hurry. I don't believ
t's according to Hoyle, as the regulation
are written. But he's doing it. And I wan
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o knowit's the biggest thing I EVE
wanted to knowdid you kill Barkley?"
"O'Connor, if you don't believe a dyinman's wordyou haven't much respect fo
death, have you?"
"That's the theory on which the lawworks, but sometimes it ain't human
Confound it, man, did you?"
"Yes."
O'Connor sat down and with his finger
nails pried open the box of cigars. "Min
f I smoke with you?" he asked. "I need it'm shot up with unexpected things thi
morning. Do you care if I ask you abou
he girl?"
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"The girl!" exclaimed Kent. He sat u
straighter, staring at O'Connor.
The staff-sergeant's eyes were on hiwith questioning steadiness. "I seeyo
don't know her," he said, lighting hi
cigar. "Neither do I. Never saw he
before. That's why I am wondering abounspector Kedsty. I tell you, it's queer. He
didn't believe you this morning, yet he wa
all shot up. He wanted me to go with hi
o his house. The cords stood out on hineck like thatlike my little finger.
"Then suddenly he changed his mind an
said we'd go to the office. That took u
along the road that runs through the popla
grove. It happened there. I'm not much of
girl's man, Kent, and I'd be a fool to try t
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ell you what she looked like. But ther
she was, standing in the path not ten fee
ahead of us, and she stopped me in m
racks as quick as though she'd sent a shonto me. And she stopped Kedsty, too.
heard him give a sort of grunta funn
sound, as though some one had hit him.
don't believe I could tell whether she haa dress on or not, for I never saw anythin
ike her face, and her eyes, and her hair
and I stared at them like a thunder-struc
fool. She didn't seem to notice me an
more than if I'd been thin air, a ghost sh
couldn't see.
"She looked straight at Kedsty, and sh
kept looking at himand then she passe
us. Never said a word, mind you. Sh
came so near I could have touched he
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with my hand, and not until she was tha
close did she take her eyes from Kedst
and look at me. And when she'd passed
hought what a couple of cursed idiots wwere, standing there paralyzed, as if we'
never seen a beautiful girl before in ou
ives. I went to remark that much to th
Old Man when"
O'Connor bit his cigar half in two as h
eaned nearer to the cot.
"Kent, I swear that Kedsty was as whit
as chalk when I looked at him! Ther
wasn't a drop of blood left in his face, an
he was staring straight ahead, as thoug
he girl still stood there, and he gav
another of those gruntsit wasn't a laug
as if something was choking him. And
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hen he said:
"'Sergeant, I've forgotten somethin
mportant. I must go back to see DrCardigan. You have my authority to give
McTrigger his liberty at once!'"
O'Connor paused, as if expecting somexpression of disbelief from Kent. Whe
none came, he demanded,
"Was that according to the CriminaCode? Was it, Kent?"
"Not exactly. But, coming from th
S.O.D., it was law."
"And I obeyed it," grunted the staff
sergeant. "And if you could have see
McTrigger! When I told him he was free
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and unlocked his cell, he came out of i
gropingly, like a blind man. And he would
go no farther than the Inspector's office
He said he would wait there for him."
"And Kedsty?"
O'Connor jumped from his chair anbegan thumping back and forth across th
room again. "Followed the girl," h
exploded. "He couldn't have done anythin
else. He lied to me about Cardigan. Therwouldn't be anything mysterious about it i
he wasn't sixty and she less than twenty
She was pretty enough! But it wasn't he
beauty that made him turn white there i
he path. Not on your life it wasn't! I tel
you he aged ten years in as many seconds
There was something in that girl's eye
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more terrifying to him than a leveled gun
and after he'd looked into them, his firs
hought was of McTrigger, the man you're
saving from the hangman. It's queer, KentThe whole business is queer. And the
queerest of it all is your confession."
"Yes, it's all very funny," agreed Kent"That's what I've been telling myself righ
along, old man. You see, a little thing like
a bullet changed it all. For if the bulle
hadn't got me, I assure you I wouldn't havgiven Kedsty that confession, and a
nnocent man would have been hanged. A
t is, Kedsty is shocked, demoralized. I'
he first man to soil the honor of the fines
Service on the face of the earth, and I'm i
Kedsty's division. Quite natural that h
should be upset. And as for the girl"
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He shrugged his shoulders and tried t
augh. "Perhaps she came in this mornin
with one of the up-river scows and wa
merely taking a little constitutional," hsuggested. "Didn't you ever notice
O'Connor, that in a certain light unde
poplar trees one's face is sometime
ghastly?"
"Yes, I've noticed it, when the trees are
n full leaf, but not when they're jus
opening, Jimmy. It was the girl. Her eyeshattered every nerve in him. And his firs
words were an order for me to fre
McTrigger, coupled with the lie that he
was coming back to see Cardigan. And i
you could have seen her eyes when sh
urned them on me! They were blueblu
as violetsbut shooting fire. I coul
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magine black eyes like that, but not blu
ones. Kedsty simply wilted in their blaze
And there was a reasonI know it
reason that sent his mind like lightning the man in the cell!"
"Now, that you leave me out of it, th
hing begins to get interesting," said Kent"It's a matter of the relationship of thi
blonde girl and"
"She isn't blondeand I'm not leavinyou out of it," interrupted O'Connor. "
never saw anything so black in my life a
her hair. It was magnificent. If you saw
hat girl once, you would never forget he
again as long as you lived. She has neve
been in Athabasca Landing before, o
anywhere near here. If she had, we surel
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would have heard about her. She came fo
a purpose, and I believe that purpose wa
accomplished when Kedsty gave me th
order to free McTrigger."
"That's possible, and probable," agree
Kent. "I always said you were the bes
clue-analyst in the force, Bucky. But don't see where I come in."
O'Connor smiled grimly. "You don't?
Well, I may be both blind and a fool, andperhaps a little excited. But it seemed t
me that from the moment Inspector Kedst
aid his eyes on that girl he was a little to
anxious to let McTrigger go and hang you
n his place. A little too anxious, Kent."
The irony of the thing brought a har
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smile to Kent's lips as he nodded for th
cigars. "I'll try one of these on top of th
pipe," he said, nipping off the end of th
cigar with his teeth. "And you forget tha'm not going to hang, Bucky. Cardigan ha
given me until tomorrow night. Perhap
until the next day. Did you see Rossand'
fleet leaving for up north? It made mhink of three years ago!"
O'Connor was gripping his hand again
The coldness of it sent a chill into thstaff-sergeant's heart. He rose and looke
hrough the upper part of the window, so
hat the twitching in his throat was hidde
from Kent. Then he went to the door.
"I'll see you again tomorrow," he said
"And if I find out anything more about th
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girl, I'll report."
He tried to laugh, but there was
remble in his voice, a break in the humohe attempted to force.
Kent listened to the tramp of his heav
feet as they went down the hall.
CHAPTER III
Again the world came back to Kent, th
world that lay just beyond his ope
window. But scarcely had O'Connor gon
when it began to change, and in spite o
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his determination to keep hold of his nerv
Kent felt creeping up with that change
hing that was oppressive and smothering
Swiftly the distant billowings of thforests were changing their tones an
colors under the darkening approach o
storm. The laughter of the hills and ridge
went out. The shimmer of spruce ancedar and balsam turned to a sombe
black. The flashing gold and silver o
birch and poplar dissolved into a ghostl
and unanimated gray that was almos
nvisible. A deepening and somber gloom
spread itself like a veil over the river tha
only a short time before had reflected thglory of the sun in the faces of dark
visaged men of the Company brigade. And
with the gloom came steadily nearer a low
rumbling of thunder.
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For the first time since the menta
excitement of his confession Kent fel
upon him an appalling loneliness. He stil
was not afraid of death, but a part of hiphilosophy was gone. It was, after all,
difficult thing to die alone. He felt that th
pressure in his chest was perceptibl
greater than it had been an hour or twbefore, and the thought grew upon him tha
t would be a terrible thing for th
"explosion" to come when the sun was no
shining. He wanted O'Connor back again
He had the desire to call out for Cardigan
He would have welcomed Father Layonn
with a glad cry. Yet more than all elsewould he have had at his side in thes
moments of distress a woman. For th
storm, as it massed heavier and nearer
filling the earth with its desolation
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bridged vast spaces for him, and he foun
himself suddenly face to face with th
might-have-beens of yesterday.
He saw, as he had never guessed before
he immeasurable gulf betwee
helplessness and the wild, brute freedo
of man, and his soul cried outnot foadventure, not for the savage strength o
ifebut for the presence of a creatur
frailer than himself, yet in the gentle touc
of whose hand lay the might of alhumanity.
He struggled with himself. H
remembered that Dr. Cardigan had told
him there would be moments of deep
depression, and he tried to fight himsel
out of the grip of this that was on him
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There was a bell at hand, but he refused t
use it, for he sensed his own cowardice
His cigar had gone out, and he relighted i
He made an effort to bring his mind baco O'Connor, and the mystery girl, and
Kedsty. He tried to visualize McTrigger
he man he had saved from the hangman
waiting for Kedsty in the office abarracks. He pictured the girl, a
O'Connor had described her, with he
black hair and blue eyesand then th
storm broke.
The rain came down in a deluge, an
scarcely had it struck when the doo
opened and Cardigan hurried in to clos
he window. He remained for half an hour
and after that young Mercer, one of hi
wo assistants, came in at intervals. Lat
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n the afternoon it began to clear up, an
Father Layonne returned with paper
properly made out for Kent's signature. H
was with Kent until sundown, wheMercer came in with supper.
Between that hour and ten o'clock Ken
observed a vigilance on the part of DrCardigan which struck him as bein
unusual. Four times he listened with th
stethoscope at his chest, but when Ken
asked the question which was in his mindCardigan shook his head.
"It's no worse, Kent. I don't think it wil
happen tonight."
In spite of this assurance Kent wa
positive there was in Cardigan's manne
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an anxiety of a different quality than h
had perceived earlier in the day. Th
hought was a definite and convincing one
He believed that Cardigan was smoothinhe way with a professional lie.
He had no desire to sleep. His light wa
urned low, and his window was opeagain, for the night had cleared. Never ha
air tasted sweeter to him than that whic
came in through his window. The littl
bell in his watch tinkled the hour oeleven, when he heard Cardigan's doo
close for a last time across the hall. Afte
hat everything was quiet. He drew
himself nearer to the window, so that b
eaning forward he could rest himsel
partly on the sill. He loved the night. Th
mystery and lure of those still hours o
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darkness when the world slept had neve
ceased to hold their fascination for him
ight and he were friends. He ha
discovered many of its secrets. Ahousand times he had walked hand i
hand with the spirit of it, approachin
each time a little nearer to the heart of it
mastering its life, its sound, thwhispering languages of that "other side o
ife" which rises quietly and as if in fea
o live and breathe long after the sun ha
gone out. To him it was more wonderfu
han day.
And this night that lay outside hi
window now was magnificent. Storm ha
washed the atmosphere between earth an
sky, and it seemed as though the stars had
descended nearer to his forests, shining i
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golden constellations. The moon wa
coming up late, and he watched the rudd
glow of it as it rode up over th
wilderness, a splendid queen enterinupon a stage already prepared by th
esser satellites for her coming. No longe
was Kent oppressed or afraid. In stil
deeper inhalations he drank the night ainto his lungs, and in him there seemed t
grow slowly a new strength. His eyes an
ears were wide open and attentive. Th
own was asleep, but a few lights burne
dimly here and there along the river'
edge, and occasionally a lazy sound cam
up to himthe clink of a scow chain, thbark of a dog, the rooster crowing. In spit
of himself he smiled at that. Ol
Duperow's rooster was a foolish bird an
always crowed himself hoarse when th
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moon was bright. And in front of him, no
far away, were two white, lightning
shriven spruce stubs standing like ghost
n the night. In one of these a pair of owlhad nested, and Kent listened to the queer
chuckling notes of their honeymooning an
he flutter of their wings as they darted ou
now and then in play close to his windowAnd then suddenly he heard the sharp sna
of their beaks. An enemy was prowlin
near, and the owls were giving warning
He thought he heard a step. In anothe
moment or two the step was unmistakable
Some one was approaching his window
from the end of the building. He leaneover the sill and found himself staring int
O'Connor's face.
"These confounded feet of mine!
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grunted the staff-sergeant. "Were you
asleep, Kent?"
"Wide-awake as those owls," assuredKent.
O'Connor drew up to the window. "
saw your light and thought you werawake," he said. "I wanted to make sur
Cardigan wasn't with you. I don't want hi
o know I am here. Andif you don't min
will you turn off the light? Kedsty iawake, tooas wide-awake as the owls.
Kent reached out a hand, and his roo
was in darkness except for the glow omoon and stars. O'Connor's bulk at th
window shut out a part of this. His fac
was half in gloom.
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"It's a crime to come to you like this
Kent," he said, keeping his big voic
down to a whisper. "But I had to. It's m
ast chance. And I know there's somethinwrong. Kedsty is getting me out of the wa
because I was with him when he met th
girl over in the poplar bush. I'm detaile
on special duty up at Fort Simpson, twhousand miles by water if it's a foot! I
means six months or a year. We leave in
he motor boat at dawn to overtak
Rossand and his outfit, so I had to take thi
chance of seeing you. I hesitated until
knew that some one was awake in you
room."
"I'm glad you came," said Kent warmly
"Andgood God, how I would like to g
with you, Bucky! If it wasn't for this thin
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n my chest, ballooning up for a
explosion"
"I wouldn't be going," interrupteO'Connor in a low voice. "If you were o
your feet, Kent, there are a number o
hings that wouldn't be happening
Something mighty queer has come oveKedsty since this morning. He isn't th
Kedsty you knew yesterday or for the las
en years. He's nervous, and I miss m
guess if he isn't constantly on the watch fosome one. And he's afraid of me. I know
t. He's afraid of me because I saw him g
o pieces when he met that girl. For
Simpson is simply a frame-up to get m
away for a time. He tried to smooth th
edge off the thing by promising me a
nspectorship within the year. That wa
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his afternoon, just before the storm. Sinc
hen"
O'Connor turned and faced the moonlighfor a moment.
"Since then I've been on a still-hunt fo
he girl and Sandy McTrigger," he added"And they've disappeared, Kent. I gues
McTrigger just melted away into th
woods. But it's the girl that puzzles me
've questioned every scow chemanat thLanding. I've investigated every plac
where she might have got food or lodging
and I bribed Mooie, the old trailer, to
search the near-by timber. Th
unbelievable part of it isn't he
disappearance. It's the fact that not a sou
n Athabasca Landing has seen her
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"And has built himself a log bungalow
somewhat removed from the town," adde
O'Connor.
"And his Chinaman cook an
housekeeper is away."
"And the bungalow is closed, osupposed to be."
"Except at night, when Kedsty goes ther
o sleep."
O'Connor's hand gripped Kent's
"Jimmy, there never was a team in N
Division that could beat us, The girl ihiding at Kedsty's place!"
"But why hiding?" insisted Kent. "Sh
hasn't committed a crime."
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O'Connor sat silent for a moment. Ken
could hear him stuffing the bowl of hi
pipe.
"It's simply the big hunch," he grunted
"It's got hold of me, Kent, and I can
hrow it off. Why, man"
He lighted a match in the cup of hi
hands, and Kent saw his face. There wa
more than uncertainty in the hard, set line
of it.
"You see, I went back to the poplar
again after I left you today," O'Conno
went on. "I found her footprints. She haurned off the trail, and in places the
were very clear.
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"She had on high-heeled shoes, Kent
hose Frenchy thingsand I swear her fee
can't be much bigger than a baby's! I foun
where Kedsty caught up with her, and thmoss was pretty well beaten down. H
returned through the poplars, but the gir
went on and into the edge of the spruce.
ost her trail there. By traveling in thaimber it was possible for her to reac
Kedsty's bungalow without being seen. I
must have been difficult going, with shoe
half as big as my hand and heels tw
nches high! And I've been wondering
why didn't she wear bush-country shoes o
moccasins?"
"Because she came from the South an
not the North," suggested Kent. "Probabl
up from Edmonton."
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"Exactly. And Kedsty wasn't expecting
her, was he? If he had been, that first sigh
of her wouldn't have shattered every nerv
n his body. That's why the big hunchwon't let loose of me, Kent. From th
moment he saw her, he was a differen
man. His attitude toward you change
nstantly. If he could save you now braising his little finger, he wouldn't do it
simply because it's absolutely necessar
for him to have an excuse for freein
McTrigger. Your confession came at jus
he psychological moment. The girl'
unspoken demand there in the poplars wa
hat he free McTrigger, and it was backedup by a threat which Kedsty understoo
and which terrified him to his marrow
McTrigger must have seen him afterward
for he waited at the office until Kedst
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came. I don't know what passed betwee
hem. Constable Doyle says they wer
ogether for half an hour. Then McTrigge
walked out of barracks, and no one haseen him since. It's mighty queer. Th
whole thing is queer. And the queeres
part of the whole business is this sudde
commission of mine at Fort Simpson."
Kent leaned back against his pillows
His breath came in a series of short
hacking coughs. In the star glow O'Connosaw his face grow suddenly haggard an
ired-looking, and he leaned far in so tha
n both his own hands he held one o
Kent's.
"I'm tiring you, Jimmy," he said huskily
"Good-by, old pal! II" He hesitated
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and then lied steadily. "I'm going up to
ake a look around Kedsty's place. I won
be gone more than half an hour and wil
stop on my way back. If you're asleep"
"I won't be asleep," said Kent.
O'Connor's hands gripped closer"Good-by, Jimmy."
"Good-by." And then, as O'Conno
stepped back into the night, Kent's voiccalled after him softly: "I'll be with you o
he long trip, Bucky. Take care of yoursel
always."
O'Connor's answer was a sob, a sob tha
rose in his throat like a great fist, an
choked him, and filled his eyes wit
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scalding tears that shut out the glow o
moon and stars. And he did not go toward
Kedsty's, but trudged heavily in th
direction of the river, for he knew thaKent had called his lie, and that they ha
said their last farewell.
CHAPTER IV
It was a long time after O'Connor ha
gone before Kent at last fell asleep. It waa slumber weighted with the restlessnes
of a brain fighting to the last agains
exhaustion and the inevitable end. A
strange spirit seemed whirling Kent bac
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hrough the years he had lived, even to th
days of his boyhood, leaping from crest t
crest, giving to him swift and passin
visions of valleys almost forgotten, ohappenings and things long ago faded an
ndistinct in his memory. Vividly hi
dreams were filled with ghostsghost
hat were transformed, as his spirit wenback to them, until they were riotous wit
ife and pulsating with the red blood o
reality. He was a boy again, playing three
old-cat in front of the little old red bric
schoolhouse half a mile from the far
where he was born, and where his mothe
had died.
And Skinny Hill, dead many years ago
was his partner at the batlovabl
Skinny, with his smirking grin and hi
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breath that always smelled of the mos
delicious onions ever raised in Ohio. And
hen, at dinner hour, he was trading som
of his mother's cucumber pickles for somof Skinny's onionstwo onions for
pickle, and never a change in the price
And he played old-fashioned casino wit
his mother, and they were pickinblackberries together in the woods, and h
killed over again a snake that he ha
clubbed to death more than twenty year
ago, while his mother ran away an
screamed and then sat down and cried.
He had worshiped that mother, and th
spirit of his dreams did not let him loo
down into the valley where she lay dead
under a little white stone in the countr
cemetery a thousand miles away, with hi
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father close beside her. But it gave him
passing thrill of the days in which he ha
fought his way through collegeand the
t brought him into the North, his beloveorth.
For hours the wilderness was heav
about Kent. He moved restlessly, at timehe seemed about to awaken, but always h
slipped back into the slumberous arms o
his forests. He was on the trail in the cold
gray beginning of Winter, and the glow ohis campfire made a radiant patch of re
glory in the heart of the night, and close t
him in that glow sat O'Connor. He wa
behind dogs and sledge, fighting storm
dark and mysterious streams rippled unde
his canoe; he was on the Big River
O'Connor with him againand then
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suddenly, he was holding a blazing gun i
his hand, and he and O'Connor stood wit
heir backs to a rack, facing th
bloodthirsty rage of McCaw and his freeraders. The roar of the guns half rouse
him, and after that came pleasanter thing
the droning of wind in the spruce tops
he singing of swollen streams iSpringtime, the songs of birds, the swee
smells of life, the glory of life as he ha
ived it, he and O'Connor. In the end, hal
between sleep and wakefulness, he wa
fighting a smothering pressure on hi
chest. It was an oppressive and torturin
hing, like the tree that had fallen on hiover in the Jackfish country, and he fel
himself slipping off into darkness
Suddenly there was a gleam of light. H
opened his eyes. The sun was flooding i
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at his window, and the weight on his ches
was the gentle pressure of Cardigan'
stethoscope.
In spite of the physical stress of th
phantoms which his mind has conceived
Kent awakened so quietly that Cardiga
was not conscious of the fact until hraised his head. There was something i
his face which he tried to conceal, bu
Kent caught it before it was gone. Ther
were dark hollows under his eyes. He waa bit haggard, as though he had spent
sleepless night. Kent pulled himself up
squinting at the sun and grinnin
apologetically. He had slept well alon
nto the day, and
He caught himself with a sudden grimac
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of pain. A flash of something hot and
burning swept through his chest. It wa
ike a knife. He opened his mouth t
breathe in the air. The pressure inside hiwas no longer the pressure of
stethoscope. It was real.
Cardigan, standing over him, was tryino look cheerful. "Too much of the nigh
air, Kent," he explained. "That will pas
awaysoon."
It seemed to Kent that Cardigan gave a
almost imperceptible emphasis to th
word "soon," but he asked no question. H
was quite sure that he understood, and h
knew how unpleasant for Cardigan th
answer to it would be. He fumbled unde
his pillow for his watch. It was nin
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o'clock. Cardigan was moving abou
uneasily, arranging the things on the tabl
and adjusting the shade at the window
For a few moments, with his back to Kenhe stood without moving. Then he turned
and said:
"Which will you have, Kenta wash-upand breakfast, or a visitor?"
"I am not hungry, and I don't feel lik
soap and water just now. Who's thvisitor? Father Layonne orKedsty?"
"Neither. It's a lady."
"Then I'd better have the soap and water
Do you mind telling me who it is?"
Cardigan shook his head. "I don't know
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've never seen her before. She came thi
morning while I was still in pajamas, an
has been waiting ever since. I told her t
come back again, but she insisted that shwould remain until you were awake. Sh
has been very patient for two hours."
A thrill which he made no effort toconceal leaped through Kent. "Is she
young woman?" he demanded eagerly
"Wonderful black hair, blue eyes, wear
high-heeled shoes just about half as big ayour handand very beautiful?"
"All of that," nodded Cardigan. "I eve
noticed the shoes, Jimmy. A very beautifu
young woman!"
"Please let her come in," said Kent
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"Mercer scrubbed me last night, and I fee
fairly fit. She'll forgive this beard, and I'l
apologize for your sake. What is he
name?"
"I asked her, and she didn't seem to hear
A little later Mercer asked her, and he
said she just looked at him for a momenand he froze. She is reading a volume o
my Plutarch's 'Lives'actually reading it
know it by the way she turns the pages!"
Kent drew himself up higher against hi
pillows and faced the door when Cardiga
went out. In a flash all that O'Connor ha
said swept back upon himthis gir
Kedsty, the mystery of it all. Why had sh
come to see him? What could be th
motive of her visitunless it was to than
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him for the confession that had give
Sandy McTrigger his freedom? O'Conno
was right. She was deeply concerned i
McTrigger and had come to express hegratitude. He listened. Distant footstep
sounded in the hall. They approache
quickly and paused outside his door. A
hand moved the latch, but for a moment thdoor did not open. He heard Cardigan'
voice, then Cardigan's footsteps retreatin
down the hall. His heart thumped. H
could not remember when he had been s
upset over an unimportant thing.
CHAPTER V
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The latch moved slowly, and with it
movement came a gentle tap on the panel.
"Come in," he said.
The next instant he was staring. The gir
had entered and closed the door behin
her. O'Connor's picture stood in flesh andblood before him. The girl's eyes met hi
own. They were like glorious violets, a
O'Connor had said, but they were not th
eyes he had expected to see. They werhe wide-open, curious eyes of a child. H
had visualized them as pools o
slumbering flamethe idea O'Connor ha
given himand they were the opposite o
hat. Their one emotion seemed to be th
emotion roused by an overwhelming
questioning curiosity. They wer
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apparently not regarding him as a dyin
human being, but as a creature immensel
nteresting to look upon. In place of th
gratitude he had anticipated, they werfilled with a great, wonderin
nterrogation, and there was not th
slightest hint of embarrassment in thei
gaze. For a space it seemed to Kent that hsaw nothing but those wonderfu
dispassionate eyes looking at him. Then h
saw the rest of herher amazing hair, he
pale, exquisite face, the slimness an
beauty of her as she stood with her back t
he door, one hand still resting on th
atch. He had never seen anything quitike her. He might have guessed that sh
was eighteen, or twenty, or twenty-two
Her hair, wreathed in shimmering, velvet
coils from the back to the crown of he
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head, struck him as it had struc
O'Connor, as unbelievable. The glory of i
gave to her an appearance of height whic
she did not possess, for she was not talland her slimness added to the illusion.
And then, greatly to his embarrassmen
n the next instant, his eyes went to hefeet. Again O'Connor was righttiny feet
high-heeled pumps, ravishingly turne
ankles showing under a skirt of som
fluffy brown stuff or other
Correcting himself, his face flushed red
The faintest tremble of a smile was on th
girl's lips. She looked down, and for th
first time he saw what O'Connor had seen
he sunlight kindling slumberous fires i
her hair.
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Kent tried to say something, but befor
he succeeded she had taken possession o
he chair near his bedside.
"I have been waiting a long time to se
you," she said. "You are James Kent
aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm Jim Kent. I'm sorry Dr
Cardigan kept you waiting. If I had know
"
He was getting a grip on himself again
and smiled at her. He noticed the amazin
ength of her dark lashes, but the viole
eyes behind them did not smile back ahim. The tranquillity of their gaze wa
disconcerting. It was as if she had no
quite made up her mind about him yet an
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was still trying to classify him in th
museum of things she had known.
"He should have awakened me," Kenwent on, trying to keep himself fro
slipping once more. "It isn't polite to keep
a young lady waiting two hours!"
This time the blue eyes made him fee
hat his smile was a maudlin grin.
"Yesyou are different." She spokesoftly, as if expressing the thought to
herself. "That is what I came to find out, i
you were different. You are dying?"
"My GodyesI'm dying!" gaspe
Kent. "According to Dr. Cardigan I'm du
o pop off this minute. Aren't you a littl
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nervous, sitting so near to a man who'
ready to explode while you're looking a
him?"
For the first time the eyes changed. Sh
was not facing the window, yet a glow
ike the glow of sunlight flashed into them
soft, luminous, almost laughing.
"No, it doesn't frighten me," she assure
him. "I have always thought I should lik
o see a man dienot quickly, likdrowning or being shot, but slowly, a
nch at a time. But I shouldn't like to se
YOU die."
"I'm glad," breathed Kent. "It's a grea
satisfaction to me."
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"Yet I shouldn't be frightened if you
did."
"Oh!"
Kent drew himself up straighter agains
his pillows. He had been a man of man
adventures. He had faced almost everconceivable kind of shock. But this was
new one. He stared into the blue eyes
ongueless and mentally dazed. They wer
cool and sweet and not at all excited. Andhe knew that she spoke the truth. Not by
quiver of those lovely lashes would sh
betray either fear or horror if he poppe
off right there. It was astonishing.
Something like resentment shot for a
nstant into his bewildered brain. Then i
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was gone, and in a flash it came upon hi
hat she was but uttering his ow
philosophy of life, showing him life'
cheapness, life's littleness, the absurditof being distressed by looking upon th
ight as it flickered out. And she wa
doing it, not as a philosopher, but with th
beautiful unconcern of a child.
Suddenly, as if impelled by an emotio
n direct contradiction to her apparent lac
of sympathy, she reached out a hand andplaced it on Kent's forehead. It wa
another shock. It was not a professiona
ouch, but a soft, cool little pressure tha
sent a comforting thrill through him. Th
hand was there for only a moment, and sh
withdrew it to entwine the slim finger
with those of the others in her lap.
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"You have no fever," she said. "Wha
makes you think you are dying?"
Kent explained what was happeninnside him. He was completely shunted of
his original track of thought an
anticipation. He had expected to ask for a
east a mutual introduction when hivisitor came into his room, and ha
anticipated taking upon himself th
position of a polite inquisitor. In spite o
O'Connor, he had not thought she wouldbe quite so pretty. He had not believed he
eyes would be so beautiful, or their lashe
so long, or the touch of her hand s
pleasantly unnerving. And now, in place
of asking for her name and the reason fo
her visit, he became an irrational idiot
explaining to her certain matters o
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physiology that had to do with aortas an
aneurismal sacs. He had finished befor
he absurdity of the situation dawned upo
him, and with absurdity came the humor ot. Even dying, Kent could not fail to se
he funny side of a thing It struck him a
suddenly as had the girl's beauty and he
bewildering and unaffectengenuousness.
Looking at him, that same glow o
mysterious questioning in her eyes, the girfound him suddenly laughing straight int
her face.
"This is funny. It's very funny, Miss
Miss"
"Marette," she supplied, answering hi
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hesitation.
"It's funny, Miss Marette."
"Not Miss Marette. Just Marette," sh
corrected.
"I say, it's funny," he tried again. "Yousee, it's not so terribly pleasant as yo
might think toerbe here, where I am
dying. And last night I thought about t