Douglas DurKin
 
 ' 359 E

 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL
 
 STEPPING IN QUICKLY KIRK TORE THE FIGHTING DQGS APART. 
 
 [Page 142]
 
 THE 
 
 LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 BY 
 
 DOUGLAS DURKIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE HEART OF CHERRY McBAIN 
 
 FRONTISPIECE BY 
 
 CHARLES L. WRENN 
 
 1 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 Made in the United State* of Amenca
 
 Copyright 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co. 
 1922 
 
 Published March, 1922 
 
 Copyrighted in Great Britain 
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 2135358
 
 The Lobstick Trail 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ONE morning in particular had always stood 
 out in the memory of Kirk Brander. The 
 night before had been a big night there 
 had been a cabaret and drinks and girls and a 
 drunken home-coming in the gray spring dawn. 
 For Kirk had just turned twenty-three, and a half 
 dozen of his boon companions had taken advantage 
 of the occasion to assemble and Daint the town its 
 traditional hue in his honor. 
 
 The next morning, much against his own will 
 in the matter, he had been forced by a custom 
 unbroken in the house of his uncle and guardian 
 to appear as usual for breakfast. Kirk's attempts 
 at eating would have appeared pathetic to some 
 to his uncle they were funny. In fact, his uncle 
 had enjoyed the humor of the situation without 
 speaking for so long that Kirk had begun to fear 
 he was on the point of losing his self-control. He 
 could have borne with anything except his uncle 's 
 good-humored silence. 
 
 When the tension was at its highest point, how- 
 ever, relief came. With a kind of bitter satisfac- 
 tion Kirk saw the cynical smile disappear almost 
 
 i
 
 2 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 suddenly from his uncle 's face. He saw the heavy 
 countenance drop. He saw the straight, thin line 
 of the mouth tighten. His good old uncle the 
 only man in the world he had ever sincerely ad- 
 mired was going to run true to form. And Kirk 
 set himself for the shock. He knew that his old 
 Uncle Hal could do that kind of thing to the king's 
 taste. 
 
 Henry Tyne Kirk Brander's uncle on his 
 mother's side held strong opinions on young 
 men in general, his young nephew in particular. 
 Though he resented it keenly, Kirk had been 
 forced frequently to admit that the old man was 
 substantially correct. On this one morning in par- 
 ticular, the admission, somehow or other, seemed 
 to come easily. It suited his mood exactly. When 
 he found himself alone after the worst gruelling 
 he had ever had the honor to receive at his uncle 's 
 hands, he felt as if a new light had broken in upon 
 him. True, he had experienced something of the 
 same feeling before, but it had never come to him 
 so vividly. He was everything the old man had 
 called him, and more. What he had heard dif- 
 fered little, if any, from what he had heard a score 
 of times before ; but it was as if he had just list- 
 ened to it for the first time in his life. 
 
 But all this had happened nearly five years ago. 
 For five years Kirk Brander had kept so con- 
 stantly in mind a resolve he had made that morn- 
 ing that it had grown into a grim determination
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 3 
 
 that refused to acknowledge defeat, even when the 
 odds were overwhelmingly against him. For five 
 years he had given himself to the stern business of 
 making a man of himself. For five years he had 
 studied the ways of Canada's northland and had 
 striven to accustom himself to its hard usuages. 
 He had learned to sleep, as he had never slept 
 before, wherever night should overtake him on 
 the trail, had learned to relish his self -prepared 
 meal of fried bacon and beans far more heartily 
 than he had ever relished the most tempting selec- 
 tion of fare from the menus of over-priced caba- 
 rets in the cities of the east. And he had taken to 
 it all, for the most part, with light-hearted en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 Only once in those five years had he come near 
 quitting. After a summer spent in The Pas a 
 northern Manitoba frontier town he had gone 
 into the woods with an experienced young 
 northerner, a French-Canadian by the name 
 of Walter Lanionte. "Wally" was at least half 
 French. The other half was Scotch with a strain 
 of Cree. He had pushed his way for twenty years 
 through Canada's hinterland, had shot rapids 
 where no white man had ever been seen, had hunt- 
 ed and trapped, and laughed and fought his way 
 through everything with a good humor that had 
 never failed him. When Kirk and Lamonte first 
 met they had found each other amusing. Before 
 they had known each other a month they had be- 
 come the best of friends. And when the snow fell
 
 4 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 they took the trail together and went into the wilds 
 to trap. From Lamonte Kirk learned how to keep 
 a dog team in the trail, how to build a cabin, how 
 to set out a line of traps, and the hundred and one 
 tricks of woodcraft that twenty years in the wilds 
 had taught the young French- Canadian. 
 
 The end of the friendship had been as sudden as 
 it was sickeningly tragic. Lamonte had gone out 
 for supplies and had left Kirk alone in the cabin. 
 The strenuous days of Kirk's first winter in the 
 northern wilds had done much to put iron into his 
 will, but the constant struggle against the elements 
 had made it necessary for him to keep all his 
 physical forces in the field at once. He had found 
 little opportunity for building a reserve. Lamonte 
 had left him suffering from a bad cold, and during 
 the days that immediately followed his departure 
 Kirk began to grow unreasonably anxious for his 
 return. When the time for his arrival had passed 
 without his putting in an appearance Kirk's 
 anxiety increased to a fear that persisted in spite 
 of his determination to throw it off. Two days 
 later, unable to stand the suspense any longer, he 
 had risen from his bed in the early morning and 
 dressed for the trail. Something, he felt, was 
 coming over him gradually, had been coming over 
 him, in fact, for days. When he got from his bed 
 and started to prepare breakfast the thought of 
 eating nauseated him. His face felt unnaturally 
 hot. When he stepped from the doorway of the 
 cabin on his way out to look for Lamonte, the
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 5 
 
 first light breeze seemed to strike through his 
 wind-proof parka and sent the chills to his very 
 bones. 
 
 Just before noon that day he found Lamonte. 
 The dogs were nowhere in evidence. The supplies 
 were still on the cariole untouched. A few black- 
 ened embers lay in a little heap on the sheltered 
 side of a tarpaulin that hung from the branches 
 of a couple of trees. And sitting erect in the snow 
 only a few yards away, his rifle sticking upright 
 in a drift beside him, was the lifeless, frozen form 
 of Walter Lamonte, his hands and arms end part 
 of his face eaten away, either by his own dogs or 
 by wolves. Kirk had come upon him suddenly 
 and the sight sickened him horribly. He did not 
 wait to seek any explanation of what he had found. 
 The fear that had haunted him for days swooped 
 down over him like an icy spectre and he hurried 
 off down the trail, insanely reckless of where he 
 was going, his hands pressed to his eyes to keep 
 out the memory of what he had seen. 
 
 Late that night "Tuck" Eoberts, a big souther- 
 ner whose cabin stood some twenty or thirty miles 
 to the westward, came across Kirk plunging blind- 
 ly through the deep snow and muttering incoher- 
 ently to himself. With some difficulty Eoberts 
 persuaded him to come to his cabin 'and there Kirk 
 had remained until the spring break-up. 
 
 When he had recovered sufficient strength to 
 permit of his travelling, Koberts took him out to 
 The Pas. For the first time since he had left the
 
 6 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 east Kirk felt himself thoroughly beaten. For the 
 first time, too, he wrote his uncle acknowledging 
 again the wisdom of his guardian's verdict de- 
 livered the morning after his was twenty-three. 
 By the time his uncle's reply came he was almost 
 himself again and had all but forgotten his desire 
 to get back to the comforts and pleasures of his 
 home in the city. When the desire did arise as 
 it was more or less bound to do periodically dur- 
 ing his convalescence he thought of Tuck 
 Eoberts and poor old Wally Lamonte and then 
 thought of the old companions he had left behind 
 him a year before. He thought, too, of the clear 
 blue in the eyes of Euth Mackay and others of 
 her kind in the little northern frontier town and 
 he confessed to himself that there were no eyes 
 like those anywhere in the memories that came to 
 him from the streets of the city. He had grown 
 to love the north in spite of its ruthlessness. Even 
 as he waited for the return of full vigor there came 
 the songs of the men going off down the Saskat- 
 chewan now clear of ice, the rhythmic sweep of 
 their oars, the light vigorous stroke of their gleam- 
 ing paddles, the sight of a great river stretching 
 its sinuous length under the open skies, and every- 
 where the silent wooing of the heart of the wild. 
 
 There followed a northland summer with the 
 return of the waterfowl and the fluttering into life 
 of poplars and birches and the upward pushing of 
 the reeds along the waterways. Kirk and Tuck 
 went in together to prospect for gold and copper.
 
 Each day came with its own struggles against 
 the wild forces in nature, each day with its su- 
 preme desires and each night with its reckoning 
 up of victory or defeat. He had watched while 
 other men, stronger in limb than he, took defeat 
 and went at it again. He had seen men lose their 
 season's supplies in an unlucky miscalculation 
 of a moment while they battled waistdeep against 
 the rapids in a river or were caught unawares in 
 a sudden wind upon the lake. He had more than 
 once said good-bye to men who had gone in to seek 
 out the hidden riches of the earth and had never 
 come back. He had come within a hair 's breadth 
 cf losing his own life on at least a half dozen oc- 
 casions. But he had played a man's full part and 
 had taken his knocks without a whimper. He had 
 taken and given measure for measure whether he 
 bargained with nature or man. He had proven 
 to himself that he could take up a man's task and 
 see it through. 
 
 Now, at the end of his fifth year in the 
 north, Kirk was going down to the Pas alone with 
 his dogs and his cariole filled with furs 
 and in his mind a new resolve. In five years 
 he had gained all that he had come north to 
 gain a consciousness that he could be of 
 some good in the world after all. Having done 
 that there seemed to be nothing left for him 
 in the north. He had managed to build up a tidy 
 account in the bank at The Pas. He could go back 
 east with a clear conscience, meet with a clear eye
 
 8 
 
 the shrewd gaze of his old Uncle Hal, strike his 
 hand in a clasp that would bring the old man to a 
 physical sense of his fitness, and take his place in 
 life alongside the best of them. 
 
 For with all the love he had conceived for the 
 life he had lived for five years, he could not quite 
 shake himself free of the feeling that, after all, it 
 had been five years of exile. For months he had 
 been the victim of a homesickness that he could 
 not overcome. He wanted to see his old uncle 
 again, he wanted to see people, he wanted he 
 could not clearly define the vague upwelling of de- 
 sire within his heart. He was most conscious of it 
 when he allowed his mind to dwell upon the eyes 
 of Kuth Mackay. He had thought much lately 
 about the women he had known before coming 
 north, of their soft eyes and the lustre of their 
 hair, and often, too, of the deep significance of 
 womanhood and the admissions he had made 
 secretly to himself brought him no sense of shame 
 or self-consciousness. His blood was clean, his 
 body knit of fibre woven in God's out-of-doors, 
 his mind fashioned under a clear sky in a land of 
 wide horizons. In short, Kirk Brander was going 
 out now for the last time because the life that was 
 in him impelled him to go. He would never come 
 back over that trail again. He would tell that to 
 Tuck at the first opportunity. 
 
 He spoke once sharply to his dogs and jerked 
 his cariole quickly to one side. The dogs came 
 willingly enough to a standstill and waited frisk-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 9 
 
 ing their arched tails slowly as they turned their 
 heads toward him. For two days they had fought 
 their way through a March blizzard in which it 
 was almost impossible to ke,ep one's bearings. 
 The wind had dropped during the afternoon and 
 the sun had gone down in a sky that promised fair 
 weather. The air was still filled with fine particles 
 of snow that drifted down from the spruce and 
 tamaracs and glistened faintly in the failing light. 
 Kirk knew that within an hour he would emerge 
 at last from the seemingly endless miles of tree- 
 sheltered trail and drop down to the smooth wind- 
 swept level of the Saskatchewan. Ten or twelve 
 miles of river trail and he would be at The Pas, 
 the foremost outpost of civilization in northern 
 Manitoba. Then the hilarious reunions, the good 
 cheer of crowded rooms, the luxury of long lazy 
 days and nights with snug quarters and piping hot 
 meals. 
 
 During the five years that Kirk Brander had 
 spent in the north, he had come in over practically 
 the same trail a score of times or more, his gray 
 huskies panting their way through miles of ill- 
 broken or wholly trackless expanses of snow, his 
 cariole weighted down with its freight of raw furs, 
 his heart more hungry than he would have cared 
 to admit for the warmth of a stout hand-clasp and 
 the cordial glow of a human face. But now, with 
 his new resolve burning within him, his mood was 
 strangely different. He looked about him while his 
 dogs rested, looked about at the low hills and the
 
 10 
 
 skies and the dusky woodland where the darkness 
 was already setting in. In another month it would 
 be spring and the old longing, he knew, would he 
 back upon him. Of one thing he was certain. He 
 must leave the north while the ice was still on the 
 river, while the snow was still deep in the trail 
 or he would not have the will power to go at all. 
 For he knew that spring would bring back with it 
 the soft allurements and the gentle wooings, the 
 swinging songs and the laughing of men, the 
 greening forests and the browning earth and he 
 knew only too well what his heart would bid him do. 
 
 Quickly he turned his face towards the north. 
 He took a half dozen steps slowly along the trail 
 his cariole had just marked in the snow. He tossed 
 back the hood of his parka and listened. The still- 
 ness was like death itself. Suddenly he straight- 
 ened himself and smiled. 
 
 "Never again I" he said aloud as he looked 
 about him in the gathering darkness. "Never 
 again, yon white-faced, bare-fanged, snarling 
 desert of exile! Never again!" 
 
 He hurried back to his cariole, tossed it into 
 position and with a sharp whistle flung out his 
 long-lashed dog whip, making it crack in mid-air 
 with the report of a rifle. 
 
 "Wh-s-s-s-t! Hi, you! Bingo! Tip! Snap! 
 Mush!" 
 
 Half an hour later they swung at a merry gallop 
 down the high bank of the Saskatchewan and came 
 to the hard, wind-beaten level of the river.
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 THE group of men who crowded the large 
 square room of "Wu Long's " Northern 
 Lights" restaurant had come in, with one 
 or two exceptions, during the past forty-eight 
 hours from distant and widely separated points in 
 the north. They had not met for weeks, the ma- 
 jority of them had not 'been out since the first real 
 snowfall of the season, and now it was the middle 
 of March. Similar groups might have been found 
 crowding other places in the town, for hundreds 
 of prospectors and trappers and men from the 
 lumber camps had been arriving during the entire 
 week to be on hand for the annual dog Derby. 
 
 For the past twenty-four hours interest in the 
 coming dog race had given way temporarily be- 
 fore an unexpected announcement that had been 
 made by Jim Cavanagh, the provincial constable. 
 Two crimes in the northland are regarded as even 
 worse than murder. There may be some reason 
 for killing a man, though now-a-days the reason 
 must be a good one, but no one has any reason 
 either for stealing furs or for running off with 
 another man's dogs. And Jim Cavanagh had 
 given out the news that the warehouse of the Hud- 
 son *g Bay Company had been broken open and 
 
 11 
 
 (2)
 
 12 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 bales of fur to the value of twenty thousand dol- 
 lars removed. 
 
 The door opened and Phil Roche stepped into 
 the room accompanied by a half-breed, Joe 
 Bedard. Joe closed the door and turned to talk 
 with the half-breed girl who stood behind the 
 glass case that served as a counter. Phil Eoche 
 walked to the middle of the room and paused be- 
 fore Tuck Roberts, who was busy arguing with 
 old man Dags. 
 
 * * They Ve got the loot ! ' ' he announced abruptly. 
 
 Roche's tall form was clad in a dark green 
 mackinaw, his trousers tucked into heavy woollen 
 socks. On his feet he wore moecassins of beaded 
 buckskin and on his large head a fox-skin cap, the 
 thick flaps of which hung loosely about his ears. 
 
 The men pressed forward eagerly for news. 
 
 "Old Jimmy found the stuff cached in the 
 woods the other side of the railway, under two 
 feet of snow all there dead easy ! Whoever did 
 that job sure bungled it." 
 
 "Any clue! " Dags asked briefly. 
 
 "They've got enough," Roche replied. 
 
 "Ye-h?" Old man Dags seemed to be only 
 casually interested in anything Roche could say. 
 
 "Jimmy won't talk but he'll talk later. I'd 
 call it fast work fast even for Jimmy but any- 
 one can work fast on a job as crude as that one." 
 
 As Roche turned to go Dags' eyes followed him 
 and a look almost cynical passed slowly over the 
 old man's face. Roche paused near the door.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 13 
 
 "No word from Brander yet?" lie said looking 
 back towards Tuck Roberts. 
 
 "Not yet," Tuck replied and Koche went out 
 alone. 
 
 "The son of a dog did that job himself," Dags 
 suddenly said to Tuck when the door had closed. 
 
 1 1 Dags ! ' ' Tuck exclaimed. 
 
 For answer Dags looked Tuck over once with- 
 out smiling. 
 
 "Young fellow," he said turning more directly 
 to Tuck and speaking so quietly that he could not 
 be heard above the din except by Tuck, "I'm older 
 than you are just about forty years older an* 
 it won't hurt you a damn' bit to listen to a man 
 some older. You can't trust a bad dog an' when 
 yon ain't lookin' he's goin' to bite. Now, look 
 out!" 
 
 Dags was by a long way the oldest man in the 
 room. He had come to The Pas when the first 
 news of gold in the district had trickled out and 
 found its way into the newspapers. Who he was or 
 where he hailed from, no man really knew. On 
 one occasion, Tuck Roberts, in an irrepressible 
 mood, had boldly asked the old man what his real 
 name was. Dags had been more communicative 
 than usual, a fact that was due in large measure, 
 no doubt, to his having imbibed more freely than 
 usual of a favorite though rather poor grade 
 of whisky. But Dags, drunk or sober, never for- 
 got himself. He had sobered perceptibly at 
 Tuck's question and had looked his questioner
 
 14 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 over for a full minute before making a reply. 
 
 "My name, young fellow, is Dags just Dags." 
 
 "Yes, but but Dags who or what?" Tuck 
 had persisted. 
 
 "Dags nothin' plain DagSi Mister Dags! 
 Ain't that enough?" 
 
 And Dags had remained as he was just Dags 
 plain Dags Mister Dags, if one happened to be 
 more than usually polite. 
 
 But Tuck had always liked the old fellow. And 
 he liked him now as he stood there beside him, his 
 scant five-feet-nine reduced even further by a de- 
 cided stoop, his chin pushed forward sharply, his 
 narrow, half-shut eyes squinting oddly in the dim 
 light of the room. 
 
 Of some twenty entries in the dog Derby two 
 men shared honors pretty evenly as favorites. 
 One was Tuck himself who had left his traps a 
 full month before the race in order to get his dogs 
 into the very best condition possible for the test. 
 His good fortune of the year before when he had 
 won first money by arriving not more than thirty 
 seconds ahead of Phil Eoche had made him a not- 
 able favorite among the men. This year he had 
 taken the same dogs, a beautifully matched team 
 of white-faced huskies, heavy enough to stand the 
 gruelling that a hundred miles of raring would 
 impose, but trained to a condition that was likely 
 to develop all the speed th*y were capable of mak- 
 ing, if the race should have to foe decided, as had 
 been the case the year before, in the last half mile.
 
 15 
 
 Tuck's chief opponent, it was generally agreed, 
 was Phil Koche. He had made Tuck extend him- 
 self to the very limit at the finish of the previous 
 race. This year it was generally felt that Tuck 
 had even more to fear from Eoche. While the 
 former had talked freely of the coming race and 
 of his dogs, Eoche had remained consistently 
 secretive about his preparations. Joe Bedard, 
 the well-known and generally disliked half-breed 
 of the place, was the only man in town who knew 
 anything of Eoche 's preparations but Joe was 
 no talker. To him Eoche had entrusted a large 
 share of the burden of the preparations, and no 
 one doubted for a moment that those preparations 
 would be complete to the last detail. 
 
 Tuck shook off the effect of Dags' remarks 
 and turning to the old fellow smiled pleasantly. 
 
 "I'm not worrying about the race, Dags," he 
 remarked. "I only wish the prize was for live 
 thousand instead of two." 
 
 Dags grunted. "Too bad wishes ain't yellow, 
 Tuck," he replied. "We could paint old Paxton's 
 holdings so they'd look like a bloomin' sunset!" 
 
 Tuck smiled affably and busied himself with 
 rolling a cigarette. 
 
 There came a sudden flurry without and the 
 door flew open revealing the parka-clad figure of 
 Kirk Brander outlined against the darkness, the 
 spare gray forms of his dogs faintly visible in the 
 dim light that fell from the doorway. 
 
 "Wh-s-s-s-t biug!"
 
 16 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 He whistled sharply and tossing his long whip- 
 lash into the middle of the floor jerked his hand 
 back quickly, raising the ashes beside the stove 
 into a little clond about the legs of Dags. 
 
 The old man, whether the movement was 
 prompted by affection or 'by the sudden crack of 
 the whip-lash within a few inches of his feet, 
 sprang towards Kirk where he stood laughing in 
 the doorway. But before Dags could reach him, 
 Kirk's eyes had spotted Tuck Eoberts farther 
 back in the room. In a moment the two young 
 fellows were together near the centre of the room, 
 first in a violent handshake from which they 
 broke suddenly into a rough-and-tumble sparring 
 match in which both laughed as ihey gave and re- 
 ceived 'blows on the side of the head that would 
 have sent an ordinary man to the floor. When 
 they finally closed and with their arms about 
 each other started a nondescript dance that forced 
 the others in the room to jump back from their 
 flying heels, a half dozen of the men, one of whom 
 was Dags himself, rushed in and tore the two 
 apart. 
 
 Kirk's eyes fell first upon Dags. 
 
 " Hello, Dagsie, old boy!" he cried and catching 
 him by the arms lifted the old fellow quite clear of 
 the floor. 
 
 But Kirk's greetings were to be shared by more 
 than Tuck Roberts and old man Dags. Kirk 
 Brander was like a brother come back to them all, 
 and in a moment he was the centre of a small but
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 17 
 
 noisy mob of men fighting for an opportunity to 
 shake his hand. 
 
 Nor was there anything either in his smiling 
 face or in the deep good nature that his whole 
 bearing radiated that the best man- and the 
 shrewdest man among them conld not have trusted 
 to the limit. It was very much as old Dags had 
 once said of him * * A straight man couldn't pick a 
 scrap with Kirk Brander, and a crooked one 
 wouldn't take the chance." His shoulders had 
 broadened and his frame had reached up during 
 his five years in the open until now he was as per- 
 fect a specimen physically as the eye could wish to 
 see. In his stride as he passed from place to 
 place in the room among the men there was an 
 ease, a jauntiness even, that was eloquently ex- 
 pressive of his own lightness of heart. The hood 
 of his parka lay back revealing thick hair of a deep 
 auburn that in some way or other seemed exactly 
 to fit his wonted jovial manner. 
 
 Even Wu Long waddled in from the kitchen 
 with his broad smile and broken words of welcome. 
 
 "Hi, there, "Wu you old ketchem glub artist," 
 Kirk cried as he stepped towards the grinning 
 proprietor and shook his hand. " Hurry out and 
 fetch me a big cup of black coffee ! " 
 
 Wu grinned even more broadly at the recogni- 
 tion his humble presence liad received and wad- 
 dled away quickly in the direction of the kitchen 
 to attend personally to Kirk's order. 
 
 But Tuck Roberts was already emerging from
 
 18 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 behind the swinging door that opened between the 
 large room and the kitchen. In his hand he car- 
 ried a large glass more than half full of a liquid 
 that, in color at least, resembled tea more than 
 coffee. 
 
 "A little something to warm yo"nr blood, Kirk," 
 he said, thrusting the glass into Kirk's hand. 
 
 Kirk looked at it a moment and then held it up 
 between himself and the light. 
 
 "This is too stiff for me, Tuck," he said smiling, 
 "and besides when I do take a drink I like 
 company." 
 
 In a moment a dozen glasses and cups were 
 ready. Kirk poured almost half the contents of 
 his own glass into the empty cup that Dags held, 
 and half of what still remained into the glass held 
 by Tuck Koberts. He added water to his own 
 while the others in the group prepared to join in 
 the toast. When they were ready all turned their 
 eyes upon Kirk. 
 
 For a moment he stood thoughtfully looking 
 into his glass. Then his eyes lifted and moved 
 slowly from face to face, dwelling a moment on 
 each as if he wished to stamp its image on his 
 memory. 
 
 "To the men who live north of fifty- three," he 
 said quietly, "and to the last week of Kirk 
 Brander's stay among the best friends he ever 
 had!" 
 
 He did not raise his glass immediately. The 
 men stood motionless and stared at him.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 19 
 
 "Quit your spoofing, Kirk," said Tuck. 
 
 "Honest Injun!" Kirk replied. "I'm going to 
 end my happy exile and go back again to live 
 among the the Philistines and the false 
 prophets.'* 
 
 "Which same allusion ain't precisely correct," 
 remarked Dags with a touch of dry humor. 
 
 "Philistines or Pharisees, Dagsie," Kirk re- 
 plied, ' ' what 's the difference I I never was strong 
 on religious distinctions. But I'm going out, boys, 
 surer than jackfish for malamutes and I'm not 
 coming back any more." 
 
 Kirk raised his glass. 
 
 "I'm not in on that toast, Kirk," said Tuck 
 suddenly. "You've got to take it back." 
 
 Kirk looked at him and smiled. 
 
 "You're right, Tuck," he said laying his hand 
 on Tuck's shoulder. "I should have talked it 
 over with you first that's what I intended. How's 
 this?" 
 
 He raised his glass again. 
 
 "To the good old dog on the heavy trail and 
 the man that never quits!" 
 
 When they had drunk the toast Tuck Roberts 
 turned suddenly to Kirk. 
 
 "Now give us the straight dope on this prodigal 
 son stuff," he demanded. 
 
 "I hate to say it, Tuck, but I'm going out," 
 Kirk replied. 
 
 "Quit it!" Tuck responded. 
 
 Old Dags was within earshot. "Why not?" he
 
 20 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 demanded and the whine in his voice was even 
 more pronounced. "We don't have to inhabit the 
 whole infernal globe, Tuck, just because it's 
 here," he declared. "There ain't no race that's 
 bred to it except Eskimos and huskie-dogs. An' I 
 say leave it to them it's their country let 'em 
 keep it!" 
 
 "He's had it for three days," Tuck explained to 
 Kirk. "If someone doesn't get him out of town, 
 he'll make the dog Derby look like an old 
 aunt's funeral." 
 
 Kirk turned to Dags. 
 
 "Cheer up, you old Lazarus," he said play- 
 fully "Some day we're all going to wake up in 
 these parts. We've been dead to the world, and, 
 if you don't look out someone from outside will be 
 coming in and cleaning us out." 
 
 "Out o' what?" Dags whined. 
 
 "Out of what!" Kirk exclaimed. "Don't you 
 know that for two hundred and fifty years Can- 
 adians have been puddling along on the southern 
 rim of a country as rich as any country in the 
 world and have handed the rest of it over to a com- 
 pany of moneyed Englishmen who never saw Can- 
 ada and don't give a tinker's dam if they ever do 
 or not. But we've got to pull in our belts, Dagsie. 
 God Almighty's going to give Canada the next 
 hundred years to make good in, an' she's got to 
 make good by herself or forget about it and let 
 someone else handle the deal. We've got enough 
 fish in the lakes north of the Saskatchewan to feed
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 21 
 
 the rest of the world week-days and Fridays. 
 There's more good salmon in the Hudson Bay 
 than they ever dreamed of in Alaska or British 
 Columbia. There's enough water power here in 
 one province to turn every wheel, light every house 
 and every street in every village, town and city 
 from Halifax to Vancouver. There's timber and 
 stone and minerals why, God bless my soul, it 
 isn't a question of whether the stuff's here or not. 
 It's a question of whether we're packing the kind 
 of stuff here" and he placed his hand over his 
 belt ' 'that'll handle the deal. That's where we 
 stand!" 
 
 The men had all been listening to Kirk's 
 enthusiastic outbreak and a deep silence followed 
 when his voice suddenly ceased. 
 
 From near the stove came the voice of old Dags : 
 "An' you can put them words down to the credit 
 of Kirk Brander young but well-meanin'." 
 
 "Come on, Dagsie," replied Kirk, "give us a 
 chance to be happy. Ill drink another just a 
 very little one " 
 
 He lifted a glass, poured it half full of water 
 from a pitcher that stood on the table beside him 
 and raised it. 
 
 "To the success of the Derby," he said. "Hats 
 off to a fair race and a good one and may Tuck 
 Eoberts run the best race of his life." 
 
 The men bared their heads and filling their 
 glasses drank facing Kirk. Just as he was about 
 to raise his glass, Kirk's eyes fell upon Joe Be-
 
 22 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 dard still lounging lazily against the counter near 
 the door. He was not drinking and his hat was 
 on his head. 
 
 "Hats off, Joe !" Kirk called in a roice that was 
 not unpleasant, though it rang with a clear note 
 of determination. 
 
 For answer the half-breed got up lazily and, 
 without showing any intention of complying with 
 the request, moved towards the door. When his 
 hand was on the latch, Kirk took a quick step for- 
 ward. His right hand went back quickly as he 
 seized the butt of the whip that dangled on a thong 
 about his wrist. With a quick movement, he 
 shook loose the long lash from where he had 
 caught it up about the handle. When the end 
 dropped to the floor, he drew his hand forward 
 slowly, his eyes fixed steadily on Bedard's cap. 
 Every inch of the whip-lash seemed, as if by 
 magic, to become charged with life. It moved along 
 the floor like a writhing snake and then suddenly, 
 as Bark's hand snapped back, it leaped from the 
 floor through the swirling dust and shot towards 
 the half-breed's head. When it leaped back sud- 
 denly with a deafening report, Bedard's cap rose 
 straight into the air and went spinning to the 
 floor a couple of yards from Kirk's feet. 
 
 For a moment Bedard's face was ablaze with 
 anger. Kirk looked at him steadily, a half smile 
 playing about his mouth. Then he drank what was 
 in his glass and stepping forward stooped good- 
 naturedly and picked the cap up from the floor.
 
 23 
 
 For a moment lie stood looking it over carefully. 
 Then lie brushed the dust from it and handed it 
 back to Bedard. 
 
 "Too bad, Joe," he said in the best of good 
 humor. ' ' Tuck 's my friend that 's all. ' ' 
 
 When Kirk reached the hotel late that night he 
 was met by the hotel clerk who flourished a yellow 
 envelope in his hand. 
 
 Kirk took the telegram eagerly and tore it open. 
 It was from his uncle. 
 
 ' ' Get in touch with Marion Curtis arriving 
 The Pas to-morrow. Act on her instructions. 
 Show speed and look out for W. K. P. 
 
 HEETEY 
 
 For a long time Kirk stood reading the message 
 over and over. The name of Marion Curtis 
 started vague memories memories of the life he 
 had lived in those almost forgotten days before he 
 had come north. Was that life, then, coming in to 
 meet him even before he returned!
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE rear coach of "The Tamarac" the local 
 name for the Canadian National train 
 from Winnipeg to The Pas was filled to 
 capacity with Derby enthusiasts. 
 
 In one corner of the smoking compartment 
 Warren K. Paxton had been holding forth for 
 some time on the fntnre of the north country. He 
 glanced from the window suddenly and got up. 
 
 "Drop into my office," he said to the man whose 
 attention he had engaged for the past hour. 
 "You'll be staying over for the Derby. Drop in 
 and smoke a cigar." 
 
 He handed his companion a card which bore the 
 information that Warren K. Paxton was sole re- 
 presentative of the Eipple Creek Copper Mining 
 Company, with an office on the main street of The 
 Pas. 
 
 "Come in when you get through with yonr busi- 
 ness. Glad to see you any time." 
 
 He shook hands and tossing away what re- 
 mained of his cigar, left the smoking compartment 
 and went back into the coach. 
 
 Warren K. Paxton was not an unpleasant man 
 to look upon, if one did not observe too closely 
 the almost mockingly patronizing expression that 
 
 24
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 25 
 
 never left his countenance. At first glance one 
 would think that Paxton was smiling to himself, 
 agreeably too. A closer look would reveal the 
 sneer to which the smile was little more than a 
 very thin veneer. And once one saw that sneer 
 he never again saw the smile. When Paxton really 
 smiled he showed his teeth and they were neither 
 good nor even. If by any chance one should miss 
 the suggestion of largeness about Paxton it would 
 probably be because he had a way of looking at one 
 through cold gray eyes that permitted no one to 
 think of him merely as a large man. His look had 
 the cutting, incisive quality more often found in 
 the eyes of smaller and more energetic men. 
 Warren K. Paxton knew precisely what he wanted, 
 and could tell, at any given time, just about how 
 long it would be before he would get it. 
 
 He went to his seat and busied himself for a few 
 moments with putting a magazine into a capacious 
 club-bag. From all outward appearances he had 
 no concern in the world other than putting away 
 a worthless magazine that he would not look at 
 again anyhow. But the real truth of the matter 
 was that Paxton was still turning over something 
 that had occupied his mind ever since he had step- 
 ped on board ' * The Tamarac * ' at Winnipeg. And 
 now with only a few minutes left of the journey to 
 The Pas he was as far away as ever from a satis- 
 factory solution to his problem. 
 
 The question that was vexing Paxton 's mind 
 it had kept him awake and thinking most of the
 
 26 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 night was why in the devil a certain woman who 
 had no interest whatever in dog-racing shonld be 
 going to The Pas on the same train with the Derby 
 crowd. 
 
 The woman Who had been the cause of his sleep- 
 lessness was only three seats away as he stood 
 fussing with his club-bag. She was taller than the 
 average, two or three years under thirty, very at- 
 tractive physically, and with a tilt to her head that 
 was almost maddening to Paxton. Though she was 
 dressed in a rather short, tight-fitting skirt that 
 displayed a very trim ankle and neatly booted foot, 
 one's attention was attracted more by her head 
 with its mass of black hair riotous above dark eyes 
 that were generously arched and filled with pride. 
 With her was an English maid who obeyed the 
 commands of her mistress and studied her every 
 whim as if she had been trained to little else from 
 childhood. 
 
 Paxton knew Marion Curtis, had known her for 
 a number of years in fact. He had known her as 
 a young woman before she had married Trueman 
 Curtis. He had known her even better since the 
 untimely death of her husband had sent her out 
 into the business world to shift for herself. 
 
 He closed his club-bag with a very resolute snap 
 and stood out in the aisle. Then quickly he turned 
 and walked forward in the car. Three seats away 
 he paused and turned his broad and ingratiating 
 smile upon the woman who had occupied his at- 
 tention.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 27 
 
 "I didn't know yon were interested in dog-rac- 
 ing, Mrs. Curtis," lie said in an effort to open a 
 pleasant form of conversation. 
 
 "Oh, how do you do, Mr. Paxton," she returned 
 sweetly, offering her hand. "You never can tell 
 what a woman may find interesting. We never 
 know that ourselves." 
 
 "I believe it," Paxton replied. 
 
 "But I assure you I am interested in dog-racing 
 very much so, indeed." 
 
 Her accent was soft but carried a note that 
 made her appear thoroughly at ease in the world. 
 
 "I suppose, then, you're betting heavily on the 
 outcome," he continued with an attempt at humor. 
 
 "Oh, my, no not heavily, at any rate. I 
 wouldn't mind placing a wager after I get there 
 and find out something about the conditions." 
 
 "Well," Paxton offered, "I have a little loose 
 change left. Let me know when you're ready." 
 
 "Fine I will!" she replied with enthusiasm. 
 "Are you a good loser, Mr. Paxton?" 
 
 "Always to a lady," he replied. 
 
 "Then, by George, I'm going to try you out!" 
 she laughed. 
 
 The harmless little expletive with which she 
 adorned her last speech came rather explosively 
 from between lips that were a little too tight and 
 perhaps a little too thin. Warren K. Paxton 
 didn't like those lips. He didn't like the chin, 
 either, that seemed to come forward just a trifle 
 when she spoke. There was a challenge there and 
 
 (3)
 
 28 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 although Paxton could not but admire the woman 
 who gave it, neither could he forget that he had 
 lost a good night's sleep because of it. 
 
 He looked at her now and tried to estimate the 
 significance of what he saw in her face. He had 
 known Marion Curtis for nearly five years and 
 always when in her company he had found him- 
 self dropping unavoidably into the habit of 
 estimating her. 
 
 "Do you know, Marion Curtis, " he said 
 abruptly, "I've had dealings of various kinds 
 with, you ever since your husband died and be- 
 fore but I find you just as inscrutable as ever." 
 
 She laughed heartily. 
 
 "Mr. Paxton, you are positively funny. This is 
 at least the third time you have said that very 
 thing to me." 
 
 Paxton tried, with little success, to conceal his 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "The third and last time," he replied, "and I 
 hope you take no offence at what I say." 
 
 "Oh, no no!" The finality with which she 
 dismissed any such possibility was very character- 
 istic. It was not at all necessary for her to wave 
 it aside with a little sweep of her hand nor to tilt 
 her chin very perceptibly though she did both 
 to give the impression she evidently desired to 
 give. The tone of her voice was quite sufficient. 
 
 Paxton found himself in even greater dif- 
 ficulties. 
 
 "I'm a clumsy joker, Mrs. Curtis. My friends
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 29 
 
 know that and just put up with it." At last he 
 seemed on the point of regaining his wonted cool- 
 ness. "The fact is, Marion Curtis, you'd be a 
 very agreeable sort of woman if you weren't so 
 damned anxious to dominate everyone about 
 you!" 
 
 The words came suddenly and with a bluntness 
 that was almost a surprise even to Paxton him- 
 self. His smile now did full service as veneer. 
 Marion Curtis looked at him once with eyes that 
 went far beneath the smile. Then she laughed at 
 him again. 
 
 "Do you know, Mr. Paxton, you've said that to 
 me before, too f And besides you said you were 
 a good loser. Surely you wouldn't object to being 
 dominated by a woman." 
 
 "I resent the suggestion decidedly," Paxton 
 replied in his best humor. "Not even by a good 
 looking woman. ' ' 
 
 After all, he thought to himself as he walked 
 away, Marion Curtis was a devilishly attractive 
 woman with a quick brain and a quick tongue 
 and she had a way with her. If she could only be 
 taught to keep her place in the world he could find 
 a great deal in the woman to admire. 
 
 But that was precisely what Marion Curtis 
 could not or would not be taught. In fact, she 
 didn't seem to have the vaguest idea of what kind 
 of place a woman should fill in life. During the 
 brief three years that she had been the wife of 
 Trueman Curtis she had quietly reclaimed her
 
 30 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 young rake of a husband while society still shook 
 its head sadly over the tragic mistake she had 
 made in marrying him. And then one morning 
 the world awoke to find him one of the most suc- 
 cessful young lawyers in the city with a political 
 career opening straight before him. His sudden 
 death had left Marion Curtis a widow at twenty- 
 five and without many serious regrets. 
 
 She had mourned the death of young Curtis 
 neither very long nor very deeply. Marion Curtis 
 was at heart a gambler a gambler with an un- 
 breakable will of her own. She had married True- 
 man Curtis partly out of pity for a man who was 
 consistently and uninterruptedly making an ass of 
 himself. The temptation to take him in hand and 
 make him over was too great for her to resist. The 
 fact that a Higher Power had stepped in before 
 her work was complete had hurt her pride more 
 than anything else. And Marion Curtis was very 
 proud. She had relied upon pride When she went 
 out to meet the world after Curtis had been taken 
 out of her life forever. Now, nearly three years 
 later, she was proud in the knowledge that she had 
 never been beaten and in the confidence that she 
 never would be. 
 
 The station platform was filled with a motley 
 northern crowd such as one might expect to see at 
 a carnival or a masquerade ball. Men in 
 picturesque caribou parkas decorated with bright 
 ribbons of all colors and bound about with long
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 31 
 
 tasselled scarfs stood 'by smoking in silence as 
 they watched the visitors descend from the train. 
 There were girls, too, in beaded moccas-snis and 
 brightly colored coats and toques, their warm 
 breaths whitening into little clouds in the crisp 
 air. Back against the wall of 'the station-house it- 
 self stood an irregular line of Indians and an oc- 
 casional squaw hunched into a black shawl, all 
 alike interested in the new arrivals but showing 
 never a sign of it in their dark faces. 
 
 Marion Curtis stepped down lightly to the plat- 
 form and shook her shoulders briskly as she drew 
 her first deep breath of northern air. Warren K. 
 Paxton stood only a few feet away doing his best 
 to smile amiably. 
 
 "It's cold up here but you don't feel it," he 
 said jocularly. 
 
 "I think it's positively wonderful!" she replied 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 "Wonderful good Lord!" Paxton exclaimed. 
 "Marion Curtis, you're unconscious you're 
 freezing to death that's what's the matter. Do 
 you notice a sleepy feeling creeping over you. 
 That's a sure sign." 
 
 She did not reply at once. She gave no sign 
 even that she had caught his little joke. Her eyes 
 were fixed on a marvellous team of five black and 
 gray huskies and their driver standing leisurely 
 beside them, one hand on the head of his big lead- 
 dog, the other toying with a long whip. 
 
 "I don't think I was ever more awake in my
 
 32 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 life, Mr. Paxton," she declared without shifting 
 her gaze. "Did you ever see such wonderful 
 dogs?" 
 
 Paxton turned to look in the direction she 
 indicated. 
 
 "Huh! You've picked the prize team of the 
 north country. Don't put any money on them, 
 though. They're good looking and they can haul 
 a load, but they haven't the speed." 
 
 "By George, I'd rather bet on that team and 
 lose than win a thousand on any other!" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "You'll find lots to take your money, young wo- 
 man. Better appoint me your trustee for the 
 duration of the visit. Here I'll give you the first 
 thrill of your visit, Mrs. Curtis," he said sud- 
 denly. "Come along and I'll get him to take you 
 to your hotel. I know him well enough to break 
 the ice and he's a little different from the rest 
 of them. Come on 111 be responsible." 
 
 He stepped briskly towards the end of the plat- 
 form and Marion Curtis followed him. 
 
 "Came here five years ago a regular booze 
 artist," Paxton murmured, half-covering his 
 mouth with one hand and casting his eyes towards 
 the young fellow standing by his dogs. ' ' Cleaned 
 right up altogether a decent sort of fellow 
 name's Brander Kirk Brander nephew of old 
 Henry Tyne 's you know. ' ' 
 
 "Kirk Brander I" she asked in surprise. For 
 once Marion Curtis was caught off her guard.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 33 
 
 "Yes you know him?" 
 
 "Oh, no it's rather a nice name, don't you 
 think! It seems to me " 
 
 But they were already beside Kirk and Paxton 
 was busy with the introduction". Marion Curtis 
 extended her hand cordially and smiled. For a 
 moment she experienced a small panic lest Kirk 
 should unwittingly drop a word that might give 
 Paxton further food for thought. 
 
 But Kirk's smile, cordial as it was, revealed 
 nothing and his words bespoke merely the wel- 
 come which the northland extended to all its 
 visitors. 
 
 Paxton lost no time in suggesting to Kirk that 
 he should drive Marion Curtis to her hotel, and 
 after a few minutes spent in giving directions to 
 her maid she accepted Kirk's invitation to a seat 
 in his cariole. When he had tucked the robes 
 snugly about her he gave a sharp whistle, 
 flourished his long whip in the air, and the dogs 
 were off. 
 
 No word was spoken by either of them as the 
 dogs sped along, down one street after another, 
 towards the centre of the town'. Seated in the 
 cariole, Marion Curtis was tasting the joys of her 
 first ride behind a dog team. Behind her, running 
 close to the end of the cariole, Kirk divided his at- 
 tention between his dogs and his passenger, who 
 from the first glance she had given him out of her 
 dark eyes, had held a strange but compelling 
 fascination for him.
 
 34 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Kirk had had enough experience in life to know 
 precisely the nature of the appeal which Marion 
 Curtis made to him. As yet he had seen nothing 
 of her dominating business ability except what he 
 had caught in the first look she had given him 
 when they had been introduced by Paxton. Of 
 that he was to know more later. What he knew 
 now was that she was a woman, with a woman's 
 eyes and a woman's voice, and the subtle sugges- 
 tion of sex made him wish he could put his hand 
 out to where she sat beneath him and lay it upon 
 the soft fur that closed snugly about her neck. At 
 the next thought he almost cursed his uncle. Could 
 it be possible that foxy old Henry Tyne had sent 
 Marion Curtis into the north country simply to 
 lead Kirk back to him? 
 
 The suspicion lingered with him still as he drew 
 his dogs to a standstill before the hotel and taking 
 her hand assisted her to her feet and out upon 
 the sidewalk where she stood a moment smiling at 
 him, her cheeks flaming from the ride in the frosty 
 morning air. 
 
 Suddenly the smile vanished from her face and 
 her voice assumed a tone that was quite matter-of- 
 fact. 
 
 "It was very fortunate to meet yon just like 
 this," she said. "I had wondered a little on the 
 way up just how I should find you without draw- 
 ing too much attention, especially from our friend, 
 Paxton. You have heard from your uncle?" 
 
 Kirk nodded an affirmative.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 35 
 
 "Did he tell you anything anything important. 
 
 "Nothing except that I was to take my in- 
 structions from you, ' ' Kirk replied. 
 
 "Well, we can't talk here. You can see me 
 soon? We must have a little talk to explain just 
 why I've come. When can you see me?" 
 
 "Any time," Kirk replied, "though perhaps 
 we'd better leave it till after the race." 
 
 "Are you going to run, then?" she asked IOOK- 
 ing at the dogs. 
 
 ' i No, but I 'm interested in a friend of mine who 
 is going to win. ' ' 
 
 "You must drop in to see me anyhow before 
 the race. I'd like to make a little bet with Pax- 
 ton. He seemed keen on getting me into it. I 
 don't know much about the game perhaps you 
 could instruct me." 
 
 She turned and was about to go but halted sud- 
 denly and looked back at Kirk. As she did so 
 Paxton came swinging down the street. Walking 
 beside him was Phil Roche. 
 
 "When I have settled on who the 'winner's go- 
 ing to be," Marion Curtis said when Paxton had 
 come up, "I've a hundred or so that I'd like to use 
 just to draw you out." 
 
 "Good!" replied Paxton, "my mind's settled 
 now. ' ' He put his hand on Phil Roche 's shoulder. 
 "Meet Phil Roche, the winner of the Derby," he 
 announced by way of introduction. 
 
 Marion Curtis bowed and Kirk smiled a little 
 it Paxton 's assertion of confidence in his favorite.
 
 36 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "Isn't that right?" Paxton enquired of him. 
 
 "I call Tuck Koberts to win," Kirk replied 
 simply. 
 
 "For how much?" Paxton asked and Koche 
 stepped closer. 
 
 "A thousand, even money." 
 
 "And five hundred of mine with it" suddenly 
 put in Marion Curtis. 
 
 Paxton and Eoche spoke a few words together. 
 
 Then, "Done!" said Paxton.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AS KEEK drove down the street he could not 
 help a feeling of something like resent- 
 ment rising within him though at whom 
 he was resentful he could not have clearly ex- 
 plained. Marion Curtis, beautiful and com- 
 pelling, had made the sort of appeal to him that 
 left him annoyed with himself and out of sorts 
 with the world in general. 
 
 But even as he thought about it he was aware of 
 someone speaking to him and looking up his eyes 
 met those of Euth Mackay, soft and smiling and 
 chiding him in their gentleness. 
 
 "Dog-gone it, Euth," he said, shaking her hana 
 and looking into her dark eyes, "but you're 
 prettier every time I see you. If you get any bet- 
 ter I'm going to shoot Tuck Egberts and run away 
 with you myself." 
 
 Euth blushed a little and then going to the lead- 
 dog stooped and put her arms about his shaggy 
 neck. 
 
 "Dear old Bingo remembers me, too, Kirk," 
 she cried delightedly. "Oh, he's a beauty!" 
 
 In Euth Mackay, the only daughter of a re- 
 tired servant of the Hudson's Bay Company who 
 had taken to prospecting with abundance of luck, 
 
 37
 
 38 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 there was the dark strain of Cree blood that came 
 to her from her mother's side some three gener- 
 ations back. But Kirk had always felt her beauty 
 had been enhanced by it. At any rate Tuck 
 Eoberts loved her and Kirk wanted no other 
 prompting. And there* was much in the girl's ap- 
 pearance to justify not only Tuck Eoberts but any 
 man in falling in love with her. 
 
 Kirk stood for a moment looking down at the 
 two. In the girl's head with its rich brown hair 
 lying upon her soft neck and in her face with its 
 large soft brown eyes and full, clear, rounded 
 cheeks there was everything that suggested 
 tenderness and gentleness and woman's love. In 
 Bingo 's grizzled face, its pointed, tufted ears, its 
 square ; broad forehead and wolf-like jaws covered 
 with a mixture of black and gray hair, its white 
 fangs just showing from between 3iis lips on 
 which there was a constant suggestion of a snarl, 
 and its eyes, small, piercing, with a smouldering 
 fire within there may have been something of 
 fierce beauty in it but it was a face in which no 
 one but the fondest lover of dogs could find the 
 first trace of affection. Kirk had always loved his 
 leader and had always trusted him, too, but he 
 knew that Bingo was not a dog to be trifled with. 
 And so he treated him always seriously, giving 
 him cause at no time to doubt his mastery. 
 
 Kirk stooped to look his dogs over while Ruth 
 stood watching him. From one dog to another he 
 went, lifting their feet in his hands and examining
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 39 
 
 them carefully. When he came finally to Bingo 
 he spent rather longer and scrutinized the soft 
 pads on the dog's feet very closely. In spite of 
 the long journey Bingo 's feet were in perfect con- 
 dition. Kirk ran his fingers up the muscles of the 
 dog's fore-legs and over the shaggy, bulging chest 
 where it showed deep and well to the front be- 
 tween the dog's shoulders. 
 
 '* Bingo, you old rascal," he said, slapping the 
 dog's shoulders and pulling at the long coarse hair 
 on his neck, "nothing could kill you nothing, un- 
 less too much attention." 
 
 He got to his feet. 
 
 "Tell your dad I'm coming in to see him soon 
 and have a big plate of those griddle cakes all 
 ready with a side dish of those red raspberries 
 I helped you pick last summer. Let me call for 
 you and take you down to see the start of the 
 race," he said as he swung his team out into the 
 street again. 
 
 "Will you bring the team 1 ?" she asked. 
 
 " Sure thing. Be ready about five. ' ' 
 
 He drove away leaving Euth smiling and waving 
 to him from the sidewalk. 
 
 With the race only a few hours away the town 
 was a-stir with flutterings of gossip on the big 
 event. There was a touch almost of spring soft- 
 ness in the air and not a trace was left 
 of the big blizzard that had swept the country 
 three days before, except the huge banks of 
 snow that lay in the streets and blocked the trails
 
 40 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 where they led in different directions ont of town. 
 
 The racers themselves were very little in evi- 
 denceu The element of suspicion does not play a 
 large part among men whose life is lived for the 
 most part in the open, but no man takes a chance 
 in a game where the stakes are worth playing for. 
 Every man spent the day with his dogs and car- 
 ried out his preparations quietly and unobserved. 
 
 At noon the racers came together to meet the 
 Derby committee and hear the chairman read the 
 conditions under which the race was to be run. 
 The course was laid from a point on the river to 
 the house of a trader at Sturgeon Landing, fifty 
 miles away, the race to be run over the full course 
 and back again, finishing at the starting point on 
 the river. A line which marked the starting and 
 finishing points had already been set and posi- 
 tions at the start were to be drawn for when the 
 teams were ready to take their places. The time 
 set for the start was five minutes after six in the 
 evening and late-comers would have to accept the 
 handicap or drop out of the running. 
 
 On one point particularly Bob Harkwell, the 
 chairman, laid special emphasis. "In the event of 
 one team overhauling another and wishing to pass, 
 it was to be understood that only the most sports- 
 manlike conditions could be tolerated. No ob- 
 structions other than those offered naturally by 
 the conditions of the trail over which they were 
 travelling could be countenanced." 
 
 "If a man wants to use his whip when another
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 41 
 
 team is trying to pass him, ' ' Harkwell explained, 
 "he must throw it low and on the side of his team 
 away from the team that's coming up. Is that 
 clear?" 
 
 There was a general murmur of assent and ap- 
 proval. 
 
 "By gar," broke in a French half-breed who 
 had entered his team in the race, "I lak see any 
 man t'row de w'ip at my dog. You have to send 
 out an' bring him in he can't come in alone, 
 that's sure I"
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WITH everything set for the race Kirk left 
 Tuck with his dogs and went -back to the 
 hotel. Once in his room he spent a good 
 half hour standing before his window engrossed 
 in his own thoughts. The sky was a perfect 
 winter blue and the sunlight lay warm upon the 
 snow. Straight before him lay the flat white 
 breadth of the river and beyond it the tree-covered 
 wilds that reached on and out to where lay the 
 great silent valleys and the far forgotten hills. 
 His pulse quickened as he gazed and he involun- 
 tarily drew a long, deep breath as if he wished to 
 take into his very heart all that lay before him, 
 its majestic beauty, its white expansiveness, its 
 age-long challenge, its mighty spirit. 
 
 There was undoubtedly a newly-awakened in- 
 terest in the limitless possibilities of this great 
 north country. Men of means and the big in- 
 terests both in Canada and in the United States 
 were turning their eyes in the direction of this, 
 probably the last, unexploited mineral district on 
 the continent. What the ultimate effect of this 
 newly-awakened interest would be time alone 
 could tell. But there was enough of the gambler 
 in Kirk Brander to wish that he might be on hand 
 
 42
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 43 
 
 to watch this new game, the great game where 
 men of means would play strong hands to win big 
 stakes. And as he thought of it all he felt his 
 lately renewed enthusiasm for the big cities some- 
 what dampened. 
 
 He would find Marion Curtis at once and hear 
 her story. If his good old uncle was going to be 
 one of the men in the game, the sooner Kirk 
 Brander, his runaway nephew, learned all there 
 was to know about it the better. 
 
 He looked at his watch. It was shortly after 
 three o'clock. He turned abruptly from the 
 window and left the room. In response to his 
 knock, Marion Curtis herself opened her door and 
 greeted him with her rare smile. 
 
 "Come in," she said simply. "Do you know I 
 was almost expecting you hoping you might drop 
 along, at least. I am just going to have a cup of 
 tea." 
 
 Kirk entered and allowed his eyes to rest a 
 moment OB the white-spread table with its burden 
 of china and refreshments. 
 
 "You put me under obligation to you very early 
 in our acquaintance, Mrs. Curtis," Kirk observed. 
 
 "You are not quite fair," she reproved him 
 gently. "I'm sure the offering of an innocent 
 cup of tea should not be looked upon so seriously. " 
 
 "Well, it's mighty good of you, anyhow," Kirk 
 replied, and took the chair which she offered him 
 at the little table.
 
 44 
 
 With a word to her maid she took her place 
 opposite him and prepared to serve the tea. 
 
 "Are we prepared to talk business," she asked 
 with a smile, "or is there too much excitement 
 in the air to-day?" 
 
 "I shall be governed entirely by your wishes 
 in the matter," Kirk replied. 
 
 "I didn't expect to get so gallant a reply from 
 a a man of the woods," she responded and there 
 was something almost coquettish in her manner 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "Gallantry is always a matter of occasion," re- 
 turned Kirk, "occasion and inspiration." 
 
 ' * Good, ' ' she laughed. ' ' Perhaps the individual 
 has something to do with it, too, however. I can't 
 see our big friend Paxton's favorite what was 
 his name?" 
 
 "Phil Eoche," Kirk prompted. 
 
 "Yes. I can't see him in the role of a gallant, 
 for instance." 
 
 "You have to understand Phil," Kirk protested. 
 "He's not half so bad as he looks. And besides 
 Phil hasn't had the kind of treatment that is 
 likely to make courtiers of men." 
 
 "Oh a woman there too?" 
 
 "Isn't it always so?" 
 
 "Well, that may be a matter of opinion," Mar- 
 ion suggested. "Still tell me about it." 
 
 She had begun to pour tea as she spoke and 
 Kirk could not help noticing the softer tone that 
 had crept into her voice. He was not unconscious
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 45 
 
 of her physical beauty as he looked at her but 
 now it was the beauty of her voice that appealed 
 to him, a voice that had grown strangely soft and 
 held nothing of the brnsque, matter-of-fact quality 
 that he had associated with her when they had 
 first met that morning. 
 
 And so Kirk undertook to tell her the story of 
 Phil Roche and his unfortunate love for Jule 
 Allen, the daughter of old John Allen of the White 
 Squaw mine. His telling, moreover, was almost 
 an apology for Phil Roche he believed in giving 
 the devil his due, be the devil never so black. 
 
 If one circumstance is sufficient to damn a man's 
 life, then Kirk felt that Phil Roche had a fairly 
 good case. From time to time stray bits of news 
 had gone about concerning a girl who had been 
 seen only three or four times by the trappers and 
 prospectors who explored the northern woods and 
 waterways by winter and summer. Gossip had 
 made the girl surpassingly beautiful much too 
 beautiful to be true and scores of strange stories 
 had been invented concerning her origin and her 
 place of residence. Naturally much mystery sur- 
 rounded her, mystery that was spun for the most 
 part about the warm stoves in such places as Wu 
 Long's restaurant. That invention was frequent- 
 ly overdone might be excused in the light of the 
 fact that for a long time there were very few 
 facts on which to draw for support. 
 
 When men have spun a fine mystery for them- 
 selves they dislike nothing so much as having it
 
 46 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 treated rudely. For months it had been accepted 
 as settled that the girl was a white squaw whom 
 the natives of the wilds kept hidden because of her 
 rare beauty. It was a shock, therefore, when it 
 became known that she was none other than Jule 
 Allen, the daughter of the eccentric old English- 
 man, John Allen. Old man Allen and his daughter 
 had entered the district by way of the Saskatche- 
 wan from the west and having once settled in a 
 spot of their own choosing, nestled down and let 
 the rest of the world pass unnoticed. But this dis- 
 covery produced only a small flutter of surprise 
 compared with the later announcement that Phil 
 Eoche had returned from a couple of months' 
 prospecting in the Ripple Creek district with the 
 news that he had met Jule Allen and was going 
 back to take the wood-nymph of the northern wilds 
 for his wife. Eoche himself was not generally 
 liked and the thought of his marrying one whosQ 
 being was something more than human in the 
 minds of the more imaginative produced much 
 discussion that was anything but pleasant. For 
 a couple of weeks they had awaited the appearance 
 of old John Allen in town in the hope that the old 
 Englishman, would settle their doubts and allay 
 their fears. 
 
 But John Allen did not come. And one day Phil 
 Eoche and his near-slave, Joe Bedard, were miss- 
 ing from town and speculation was rife once more. 
 About a week later he returned, accompanied by 
 Bedard but no bride.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 47 
 
 For days Roche refused to answer the pointed 
 enquiries that were directed at him. Bedard 
 seemed not even to hear the questions that were 
 shot at him from every side. When the wise ones 
 began to draw wry faces and put their tongues in 
 their cheeks or wink knowingly when the affair 
 was mentioned, Phil Eoche became at first 
 angry, then frigidly dignified. Finally an old 
 missionary arrived from Cumberland House with 
 a couple of Indians. A few days later the story 
 of Roche's disappointment was being circulated 
 freely among the men. 
 
 Roche, it appeared, had arrived at Cumberland 
 House on the appointed day and had gone im- 
 mediately to the priest in charge of the mission 
 there. In answer to the missionary's questioning 
 look, Roche had told him that the bride-to-be 
 would be on hand sometime during the afternoon. 
 Roche had gone immediately to the shore at a 
 point overlooking the lake and had waited there 
 until evening. About sunset Jule Allen had ar- 
 rived in a canoe with two Indians and had joined 
 Roche. Together they had sat on the shore until 
 dark, Jule's two Indians and Joe Bedard squat- 
 ting beside the canoes at the edge of the water 
 some hundred yards away. There had been some- 
 thing approaching an argument between Roche 
 and Jule, escape from which Jule had effected by 
 calling her two Indians to her. They had escorted 
 her to her canoe and had pushed out across the 
 lake in the gathering darkness, leaving Roche and
 
 48 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Bedard standing on the shore. Eoche had been 
 furious at first, then realizing hcrw little he could 
 gain from anger, had turned philosophical, con- 
 signed women in general to perdition, took a nor- 
 mal night's rest, slipped away early the next 
 morning with Joe Bedard, and returned to The 
 Pas. 
 
 Buf no one ever knew why Jule Allen had failed 
 to live up to her agreement with Phil Roche, and 
 the girl herself never came to town to give anyone 
 an opportunity of learning her side of the story. 
 That her action came to be looked upon with gen- 
 eral disfavor was only natural even though Phil 
 Eoche had few qualities to commend him to the 
 favor of those who knew him. 
 
 "And do you share the feeling that the others 
 have for Jule Allen?" Marion Curtis asked Kirk 
 when he had finished telling her the story. 
 
 Kirk considered a while before he made answer. 
 
 "I have seen Jule Allen only once," he replied 
 finally. "That was four years ago, and she was 
 a mere girl then. She is a woman now. She was 
 a woman last summer when she met Phil Eoche. 
 A woman that's worth anything doesn't do that 
 kind of thing." 
 
 "You almost make me hope that Phil Eoche 
 wins the race," she said smiling. 
 
 Then briefly she told him of the hopes she had 
 once entertained and the harsh fate that had 
 intervened just when it seemed she was about to
 
 THE LQBSTICK TRAIL 49 
 
 realize them. Kirk listened and felt again the 
 deep appeal of her voice. 
 
 "You will permit me to say that I am sorry," 
 he said when she paused finally. 
 
 "I know you are sincere when you say that/' 
 she said, "but regrets are not at all necessary. I 
 know how to lose without whimpering. And I have 
 put all that behind me. Warren Paxton and his 
 set have dogged my tracks without ceasing ever 
 since I began to show them that I could get along 
 without the help of a brilliant husband. And we Ve 
 got Paxton in a game now that's going to be won 
 by the best man. He's in he can't get out he's 
 got to go in farther. And in the end he's got to 
 take his licking, by George, or Marion Curtis has 
 to take it. I'm not superstitious but if Phil Eoche 
 wins this race Warren Paxton will take it as a 
 good omen. I want his money now if I put a match 
 to it as soon as I get it. I'm going to play him 
 right across the table until he's had enough." 
 
 When she had finished speaking she looked 
 steadily at Kirk a moment. 
 
 "What I want to know is, are you in the game 
 too?" she said, and her voice had lost all its mel- 
 lowness. 
 
 Kirk considered a moment. 
 
 "I don't know much about it yet," he said 
 slowly, "but is Henry Tyne in it?" 
 
 "It's almost life or death to Henry Tyne," she 
 declared. 
 
 "Then it's life or death to me," Kirk replied.
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 FIFTEEN minntes before the time announced 
 for the start Kirk swung his team over the 
 high bank of the river and down the trail 
 that led to the ice-level. In the cariole sat Ruth 
 Mackay, a light robe tucked about her, observing 
 with admiration and satisfaction the spirited 
 movements of the dogs with Bingo in the lead. 
 Already a number of the teams were in their 
 places waiting for the word to go and the crowd 
 had been gathering for more than half an hour. 
 Following close behind Kirk came Tuck Roberts, 
 his dogs yelping and snapping in their eagerness 
 for action. At the sight of Tuck's approach a 
 cheer went up that brought a smile to Ruth's face 
 as she turned and looked behind her, first at 
 Tuck's racers and then at Kirk Brander. 
 
 "I believe they want us to win, ' ' she said simply. 
 
 But even as she spoke a second cheer rose from 
 the crowd and looking behind him as he ran Kirk 
 saw Phil Roche and his team dropping down in 
 the trail behind him. Then as they broke through 
 the crowd and the teams took their positions be- 
 fore the starting line, Kirk had a glimpse of Mar- 
 ion Curtis, radiant and smiling, standing beside 
 Warren Paxton, 
 
 so
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 51 
 
 Then, with a strange presentment of evil, Bark 
 noticed for the first time the figures of Jim Ca- 
 vanagh and Sergeant Keene of the Mounted 
 Police pushing their way quietly through 
 the crowd. They had evidently just arrived 
 and Kirk sensed something unpleasant in 
 their manner as they approached Bob Harkwell 
 of the race committee and held him in conference 
 for a few minutes. It was evident from the hush 
 that gradually came upon the crowd that Kirk's 
 vague fears were shared by others besides him- 
 self. 
 
 When they had finished their talk, Harkwell, 
 Cavanagh and Keene left their place near the 
 starting-line and made their way towards Kirk. 
 When they were within a few yards of him, Ca- 
 vanagh beckoned to Kirk and the three men waited 
 until he joined them. 
 
 "What's the trouble, Jim?" Kirk asked as he 
 came within easy speaking distance. 
 
 Cavanagh 's voice was quiet and altogether inof- 
 fensive. 
 
 "Get Tuck over here for a minute," he replied. 
 
 Kirk left at once and in a moment returned ac- 
 companied by Tuck. 
 
 "Sorry to have to step in on yon like this, 
 boys," Cavanagh explained, "but I have my work 
 to do." 
 
 "You don't mean " Kirk began. 
 
 Cavanagh was serious. "I'm damn' sorry to
 
 52 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 have to say so, Brander, but the trail from that 
 fur cache seems to lead here." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Tuck." 
 
 The word struck Kirk like a knife-thrust. He 
 turned to Tuck and looked at him. 
 
 "Why Tuck!" he appealed. 
 
 But Tuck gave him no reply. He was standing 
 motionless, his face white and expressionless, his 
 eyes fixed upon Cavanagh and Keene. 
 
 The crowd, looking for sensation, moved in 
 about the small group, and it was not long before 
 even the drivers left their teams for a few hurried 
 moments to learn what they could of the startling 
 turn affairs had taken. Eoche, having left his 
 team with Joe Bedard whose own team was next 
 to Koche's at the starting line, pressed close and 
 listened attentively to every word. 
 
 "Awful foolish of Tuck," he remarked to a by- 
 stander. 
 
 Kirk pressed Cavanagh for an explanation, 
 but the constable warned him that the interests 
 of everyone concerned would be best served by 
 leaving any discussion of the affair until the 
 proper time had arrived. Bail to any amount was 
 offered but the serious nature of the crime and 
 the circumstances attending it made it impossible 
 for either Cavanagh or Keene to consider any step 
 that would give their man an opportunity of slip- 
 ping from their grasp. 
 
 Kirk's mind worked quickly. With Tuck out of
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 53 
 
 the race a dozen unpleasant eventualities arose. 
 Kirk himself could do nothing 'by staying behind. 
 He looked at Harkwell. 
 
 ' * Will the committee allow me to run for Tuck ? ' ' 
 he asked. 
 
 Harkwell called his committee hurriedly and af- 
 ter a few seconds ' consultation Kirk's request 
 was granted. 
 
 "I want to take out Tuck's leader and throw 
 Bingo into his place," Kirk said to Harkwell 
 when the chairman had given his consent to Kirk's 
 entering the field. 
 
 tC No rule against that, Brander," the chairman 
 replied. "Finish with the same dogs you start 
 out with and there'll be no kick coming." 
 
 Kirk went at once to his team and, with the 
 crowd looking on, began taking Bingo out of the 
 harness. While he was engaged in the task, Roche 
 pushed his way through the crowd and stood for a 
 moment above him. 
 
 **Is this right about you takin' Tuck's place?" 
 he asked. 
 
 Kirk looked up. 
 
 "Have you any kick on it?" he asked. 
 
 Koche grinned. 
 
 "Why, no, Brander," he replied. "Come on in. 
 But I didn't think you'd do that." 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 Eoche laughed. "What? for Gawd's sake 
 Kirk Brander goin' sub for a fur-sneak!" 
 
 The flame leaped within Kirk's heart. He
 
 54 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 sprang to his feet and looked at Roche for a frac- 
 tion of a second across the narrow space that 
 separated them. In his eyes burned the fires of a 
 man who had been stung almost to madness. The 
 next moment he would have launched himself 
 against Roche who had stepped back suddenly on 
 the defensive. But there was a quick movement 
 among the men standing close to him and strong 
 arms were about him before he could move. Koche, 
 having recovered from his first surprise, had to be 
 held back in like manner and the two stood facing 
 each other across the small open circle, the arms 
 of each held by at least a half-dozen men almost as 
 strong as themselves. 
 
 Close by stood Marion Curtis, her eyes flashing 
 from excitement. But Euth Mackay came between 
 the men and facing Kirk looked at him with her 
 soft dark eyes wet with tears. 
 
 "The race, Kirk," she said quietly, struggling 
 to keep the sob out of her voice. 
 
 Kirk turned at once to his work and in a few 
 minutes he was in his position ready for the start. 
 For a moment only did he take his attention from 
 his team and that was to step aside once and grip 
 the hand of Tuck Roberts who waited between 
 Cavanagh and Keene to see the dogs get off. No 
 word passed between them. Tuck smiled a little 
 but Kirk's face was set. 
 
 ^ At five minutes to six the teams were all in posi- 
 tionsome twenty in all and the men eager to be 
 off. The trail led 'before them up the river into
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 55 
 
 the northerly setting sun, and the white snow was 
 tinged lightly with rose where the little drifts 
 stood up behind their lengthening shadows of 
 bine. 
 
 Suddenly Harkwell stepped out and stood be- 
 fore the line of racers. He called on them to voice 
 their protests if they had any and for a moment 
 all waited in silence. No one spoke a word of pro- 
 test and the chairman moved to one side and drew 
 ont his watch. The dogs, many of whom had been 
 lying quietly in the snow, leaped up at the com- 
 mands of their drivers and began tugging at their 
 traces and yelping. Then Harkwell raised his 
 hand. 
 
 "Are you ready ?" 
 
 There was a moment more of waiting and hold- 
 ing the dogs in check. 
 
 Then 
 
 "Mush!" and Harkwell 's hand dropped. 
 
 The dogs sprang forward snarling and snapping 
 and the men ran alongside using the heavy ends 
 of their whips to keep them from fighting when 
 they came too closely together, while the crowd 
 pressed in and cheered their favorites. 
 
 Hoping to avoid a mix-up on the start, Kirk 
 held his team back until the way was clear and 
 then gave the word to his leader and was off. 
 Only once he looked back as he heard Ruth's voice 
 calling to him and then he caught sight of Marion 
 Curtis standing silent and unmoving, her eyes 
 Straight before her on the trail that he was
 
 56 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 taking. He fell in at the end of the long line of 
 racers now following each other in a single file 
 that veered and turned and twisted its way along 
 the river trail. 
 
 When the crowd had finally dispersed and gone 
 back to the town, Ruth still stood on the high bank 
 above the river, her eyes fixed upon the vanishing 
 line of racers, now like a thin knotted thread of 
 black against the snow. And thus she stood until 
 Kirk and his team, the last in the long line, grew 
 faintly visible and vanished finally around a bend 
 in the river,
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 THE sun had already set by the time the 
 team leading the long line of racers left the 
 level of the river and climbing the bank 
 swung off in a northerly direction over a winter 
 portage. The river trail had taken them about 
 fifteen miles from the starting line and the re- 
 mainder of the outward half of the course, being 
 tween forty and fifty miles, lay along a winter 
 trail that ran across country, emerging now and 
 then for a few miles along the rivers and across 
 the lakes that abound in the country between The 
 Pas and Sturgeon Landing. 
 
 In the quickly gathering dusk Kirk Brander 
 found it almost impossible to keep his eye on the 
 leading team. The line was still strung out at 
 length, each team following closely the team in 
 front, the nose of the lead-dog almost brushing 
 the legs of the runner ahead. Occasionally a team 
 that had led for a few miles would draw aside 
 and allow the team behind it to move into first 
 place and break the trail which was now becominjf 
 very heavy in spots where the snow had drifted 
 in and banked up in the open space between the 
 trees. There was no conversation among the men 
 except now and then when a change in order made 
 
 57
 
 58 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 it necessary for one team to swing out of the trail 
 to allow another to move up into its place. Even 
 then the dogs required so much attention that 
 little opportunity was given to talk. Only the 
 gruff commands of the drivers and the occasional 
 cracking of whips broke the silent monotony of 
 the performance and even these sounds became 
 less frequent as the night settled down with the 
 cold snap of frost in the air. Little could be heard 
 save the light tinkle of the bells, the rhythmic pad 
 of moccassined feet in the snow and the soft brush- 
 ing of the toboggans in the trail. 
 
 For at least twenty-five miles there was little 
 change in the relative positions of the racers. 
 Breaking trail through snow-drifts that have been 
 left by a three days' blizzard is slow and arduous 
 work and the men showed little desire to compete 
 for the honor of leading the others at this stage 
 of the race. Gradually, however, Kirk found him- 
 self approaching the front of the line as team after 
 team dropped out of the leading position and took 
 its place at the end of the string, where it had no 
 difficulty in keeping up with the others. Of the 
 twenty or more teams that had left the starting 
 line together all were still running consistently 
 and it was apparent that there would be no real 
 -<trial either of endurance or of speed until the 
 course had been broken on the outward half and a 
 hard keen trail provided for the return. 
 
 Within ten miles of Sturgeon Landing, however, 
 Kirk became gradually conscious of a new element
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 59 
 
 entering the contest. At first lie could not tell 
 what prompted the feeling, but some instinct with- 
 in him announced that the mere routine of measur- 
 ing mile after mile was suddenly at an end and 
 that before long he would be in a struggle in which 
 mere mileage would be of small importance. It 
 was apparent, too, that others in the line felt as 
 he did, for the cracking of whips became more fre- 
 quent, the drivers' voices spoke with more urge, 
 and even the dogs seemed to have awakened to 
 the fact that they were running a race. They 
 barked and snapped ill-naturedly as they trotted 
 along in their harness. 
 
 As they broke from the cover of the woods and 
 came out upon the wind-beaten level of Sturgeon 
 Lake for the last few miles of the outward course 
 to the Landing, only three teams were ahead of 
 Kirk in the line. The fact that two of these teams 
 were driven by Joe Bedard and Phil Roche gave 
 him some food for thought. He was not afraid of 
 anything either of them might do individually, 
 though he did not underestimate Roche's ability 
 nor his gameness. But he knew Bedard was sim- 
 ply a tool in Roche 's hands and he was just a little 
 anxious to know how the two would work together. 
 That they would work together he had not the 
 slightest doubt. He had brought upon himself the 
 enmity of both of them and the two had been 
 friends for a long time. 
 
 'Suddenly the team in the lead dropped back and 
 Eoche urged his dogs forward as he took the first 
 
 (5)
 
 60 
 
 position. It was evident that he was going to take 
 advantage of the new conditions afforded by the 
 lake to test out the spirit of his dogs. The gap 
 between Koche and Bedard widened. With an oc- 
 casional flourish of the whip, Eoche was urging 
 his team forward in a sprint that showed clearly 
 that from this point on, speed as well as endurance 
 would be a factor in the struggle for mastery. 
 
 Before them lay the blue-white expanse of the 
 lake, unbroken save where an island with its bur- 
 den of spruce trees shouldered up dimly under the 
 cold light of the stars. Beyond, less than ten 
 miles away, was Sturgeon Landing, the trading 
 post that would mark the end of trail-breaking 
 and the beginning of the real race homeward. 
 
 Kirk looked back. Immediately behind him 
 lay a stretch of two hundred yards or more to 
 the next team following. He dropped back a 
 little from the end of his cariole and pressed his 
 toe into the snow in three or four spots beside 
 the trail over which his dogs had run. Under his 
 soft moccassin the surface of the snow was crisp. 
 The warm sun had melted it during the day and 
 the night frost had encrusted the snow with a thin 
 film of ice. He straightened himself and length- 
 ened his stride till he came up with his dogs again. 
 The change of gait made him conscious of his own 
 reserve. He delighted in the easy response of his 
 muscles and felt doubly alive. He was never so 
 fit in his life.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 61 
 
 "If you get away from me to-night, Phil,'* he 
 said to himself, "you'll have to travel." 
 
 Kirk's only fear was for his dogs. That they 
 were in perfect condition for the test that he 
 would have to put them to he had no doubt pro- 
 vided the crusted snow did not cut their feet. He 
 went alongside and examined them each in turn, 
 watching their movements carefully for the first 
 indication of sore feet. When he had satisfied 
 himself that they were still running strong he 
 dropped back again behind the cariole and fell 
 into his usual stride. 
 
 Ahead of him, separating him from Joe Bedard, 
 ran a young stranger who had come in from the 
 outside to run his dogs in the race. 
 
 "For a man who doesn't like this kind of race," 
 he thought to himself, as he recalled something 
 he had heard the young outsider say, "the stran- 
 ger is making a fairly good showing." 
 
 But Phil Roche was steadily and persistently 
 increasing his lead and Joe Bedard seemed in no 
 way excited about it or anxious to keep the gap 
 from lengthening. Then Kirk began to notice the 
 pace falling off. The difference was scarcely per- 
 ceptible at first and had he not been so keenly 
 alert to his own exceptional fitness he might easily 
 have been tempted to think that he was growing 
 tired. But he knew he had a safe reserve of energy 
 that had not been drawn upon as yet and he knew, 
 too, that if Roche and Bedard had a game of their
 
 64 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 quickly into the tumbling mass he kicked and 
 ehoved his way towards the centre where he found 
 Bingo and stooping, he lifted the dog bodily from 
 the ground and carried him towards the outside. 
 Regardless of the snapping jaws and tearing feet 
 and rolling bodies about him he succeeded in ex- 
 tricating his leader whose teeth were set in the 
 shaggy throat of a dog belonging to the team that 
 had tried to pass Bedard. The young driver step- 
 ped in at once and when they had separated the 
 two dogs they started off in opposite directions, 
 gradually working their teams out of the tangle 
 by pulling on the traces in which the dogs were 
 still secure. 
 
 When at last the dogs were separated and each 
 team was ready again for the trail, the majority 
 of the other racers with their teams going strong 
 had passed them, giving the scene of the fight a 
 wide berth as they did so. Kirk's mind was made 
 up in an instant. This time at least he would be 
 guilty of no error in judgment. He quickly ex- 
 amined the harness of his team and ran his hands 
 hurriedly over their coats. They had apparently 
 come off without any serious mishap. 
 
 "Ready, pardner?" came the voice of the young 
 fellow who was waiting a few yards away. 
 
 ' ' Right, ' ' Kirk called back in reply. * ' How are 
 you fixed?" 
 
 "Reckon I'm out of the runnin'," he replied. 
 "My dogs ain't used to stagin' a hundred mile
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 65 
 
 race and a dog fight all in one night. Leader 's laid 
 out and another's bleedin' bad." 
 
 "Are you good for the Landing!" 
 
 ' ' Sure I 'm good for the distance. I can run it 
 with four dogs if my leader can't work but I 
 can't make speed." 
 
 Kirk came forward quickly. 
 
 "All right, stranger," he said, "we've got to 
 make the rest of the way to the Landing to- 
 gether." 
 
 He turned to Bedard who was by this time giv- 
 ing his leader the trail and throwing his dogs back 
 into their harness. As Kirk stepped towards him 
 he lifted his whip and was on the point of hurrying 
 off again as if nothing unusual had happened. 
 
 "Joe!" Kirk called. 
 
 For a moment the half-breed looked as if he was 
 not going to pay the slightest attention to Kirk's 
 challenge. 
 
 "Now look out!" Kirk warned and drew his 
 whip into position. 
 
 Bedard understood the movement and brought 
 his team to a standstill immediately. Kirk went 
 up to him and putting his hand heavily on his 
 shoulder quite close to his neck gripped him so 
 that he winced and made to move away as if he 
 feared Kirk was going to kill him. 
 
 "Stand still, Joe!" Kirk commanded. "If yon 
 were a dog, I'd kill you. Killing's too good for 
 you. From here to the Landing you're going to 
 run third. I'm coming along right behind you
 
 64 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 quickly into the tumbling mass he kicked and 
 shoved his way towards the centre where he found 
 Bingo and stooping, he lifted the dog bodily from 
 the ground and carried him towards the outside. 
 Regardless of the snapping jaws and tearing feet 
 and rolling bodies about him he succeeded in ex- 
 tricating his leader whose teeth were set in the 
 shaggy throat of a dog belonging to the team that 
 had tried to pass Bedard. The young driver step- 
 ped in at once and when they had separated the 
 two dogs they started off in opposite directions, 
 gradually working their teams out of the tangle 
 by pulling on the traces in which the dogs were 
 still secure. 
 
 When at last the dogs were separated and each 
 team was ready again for the trail, the majority 
 of the other racers with their teams going strong 
 had passed them, giving the scene of the fight a 
 wide berth as they did so. Kirk's mind was made 
 up in an instant. This time at least he would be 
 guilty of no error in judgment. He quickly ex- 
 amined the harness of his team and ran his hands 
 hurriedly over their coats. They had apparently 
 come off without any serious mishap. 
 
 "Ready, pardner ? " came the voice of the young 
 fellow who was waiting a few yards away. 
 
 * ' Right, ' ' Kirk called back in reply. * ' How are 
 you fixed?" 
 
 "Reckon I'm out of the runnin'," he replied. 
 "My dogs ain't used to stagin' a hundred mile
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 65 
 
 race and a dog fight all in one night. Leader 's laid 
 out and another's bleedin' bad.'* 
 
 "Are you good for the Landing!" 
 
 ' ' Sure I 'm good for the distance. I can run it 
 with four dogs if my leader can't work but I 
 can't make speed." 
 
 Kirk came forward quickly. 
 
 "All right, stranger," he said, "we've got to 
 make the rest of the way to the Landing to- 
 gether." 
 
 He turned to Bedard who was by this time giv- 
 ing his leader the trail and throwing his dogs back 
 into their harness. As Kirk stepped towards him 
 he lifted his whip and was on the point of hurrying 
 off again as if nothing unusual had happened. 
 
 "Joe!" Kirk called. 
 
 For a moment the half-breed looked as if he was 
 not going to pay the slightest attention to Kirk's 
 challenge. 
 
 "Now look out!" Kirk warned and drew his 
 whip into position. 
 
 Bedard understood the movement and brought 
 his team to a standstill immediately. Kirk went 
 up to him and putting his hand heavily on his 
 shoulder quite close to his neck gripped him so 
 that he winced and made to move away as if he 
 feared Kirk was going to kill him. 
 
 " Stand still, Joe!" Kirk commanded. "If yon 
 were a dog, I'd kill you. Killing's too good for 
 you. From here to the Landing you're going to 
 run third. I'm coming along right behind you
 
 66 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 and you're going to make time do you get that?" 
 
 Thoroughly cowed, Bedard gave silent assent 
 by the look in his eyes. 
 
 "Lead away there, stranger!" Kirk called. 
 "I'm going to bring this along. I don't want him 
 in the way when I come back." 
 
 The dogs were in the trail again in an instant 
 and the distance to the Landing was covered at a 
 run that never slackened a moment until they ar- 
 rived' before the door of the trader 's cabin. While 
 they were still about two miles out Phil Eoche 
 met them and passed by at a safe distance. At 
 the first sight of Eoche Kirk spoke a few words to 
 Bedard and brought the end of his whip so close to 
 Bedard 's ear that the half-breed made no attempt 
 at so much as a signal to the man with whom he 
 was in collusion. 
 
 They found the other teams already leaving one 
 by one as they climbed the shore of the lake and 
 drew up to the cabin. It was a matter only of 
 minutes before Kirk was ready for the return 
 trip. 
 
 Fortunately he was well away before Bedard 
 left the trader's. How far Eoche was in the lead 
 he had only a vague idea. It was probably not 
 less than two miles possibly even more. With- 
 out urging his dogs unnecessarily Kirk kept them 
 swinging along at an even pace that was calcul- 
 ated not only to eliminate the slower competitors 
 but also to reduce the distance that Eoche had 
 succeeded in putting between them. If he could
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 67 
 
 only catch Boche within the next three hours he 
 would be content to let the teams fight it out for 
 the remainder of the distance. Daylight would 
 begin to break in less than that time, and, for rea- 
 sons of his own, he preferred not to force a deci- 
 gion until there was a little more light. 
 
 He crept up gradually upon one after another 
 of the teams that were ahead of him. Carefully 
 he marked them as he passed, keeping account of 
 who they were and turning over in his mind as he 
 hurried along the names of those who were still 
 between him and Koche. The line of racers was 
 badly broken now, the teams being separated by as 
 much as a mile in some instances. The trail was 
 keen and the faster teams had little difficulty in 
 leaving their heavier and slower rivals behind. 
 
 The eastern sky was already brightening when 
 Kirk finally swung to one side from the trail and 
 passed a team that he had been following closely 
 for more than half an hour. It had been a half 
 hour of determined effort on the part of both men 
 and Kirk's rival had fought grimly to hold the 
 lead until his dogs could do no more. He veered 
 a little from the trail as Kirk went by and waved 
 his hand and shouted. 
 
 1 1 Go it, you bounder ! ' * 
 
 Kirk waved his hand in reply, shouted and 
 cracked his whip. The excitement of the race was 
 beginning to get into his blood now that speed had 
 become the really important factor in the contest. 
 
 So far as Kirk recalled he had passed everyone
 
 68 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 but Roche now. Looking back in the slowly faint 
 gray of very early morning he could see that no 
 one was following closely enough to cause him any 
 anxiety. The race now hung upon his ability to 
 overhaul and pass Phil Roche. 
 
 For almost an hour he jogged along behind his 
 dogs, his eyes blurred by the biting cold of the 
 early dawn as he kept them consistently in the 
 direction of the trail before him in the hope of 
 catching a glimpse of his rival. 
 
 Suddenly as he emerged from the cover of the 
 wood and came out upon a small lake he saw a 
 moving shadow just leaving the lake level less 
 than half a mile away. Kirk gained the smooth, 
 even surface of the lake just as the shadow dis- 
 appeared among the trees on the other side. 
 
 For the first time during the race he sent his 
 whip alongside his team and Bingo left the trail 
 at a bound as the report broke within a foot of his 
 head. The distance across the lake was covered 
 at a speed that was faster than anything they had 
 done that night. Up the bank they leaped and 
 took the trail through the thick growth of willows 
 that covered a mile or so of low flat ground. They 
 broke suddenly round a quick bend in the trail 
 and came upon a team of dogs and a driver who 
 at the sight of Kirk began to shout excitedly and 
 nse his whip. But it was not Roche. 
 
 In a few minutes, in spite of shouting and whip- 
 ping, the racer gave way to Kirk and the trail 
 was once more clear before him. The fact that
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 69 
 
 he had failed in his accounting for all the teams 
 as he passed them gave Kirk a feeling of uneasi- 
 ness that grew as he went along. He had thought 
 that Eoche alone was ahead of him. He had some- 
 how or other overlooked this man. Would it be 
 possible that he had forgotten others as well. He 
 went over the list and tried to recall them and to 
 clear his own mind as to whether he had passed 
 them or not. He thought so but 
 
 In the half-light of breaking day he saw sha- 
 dowy forms in the trail before him. Sometimes 
 they were clear and again they bounded out of 
 eight round a turn or vanished strangely where 
 there was nothing but a straight and open trail 
 among the trees. Was it possible that the shifting 
 lights and shadows of day-break were playing 
 tricks with his vision! He blinked his eyes and 
 smiled. 
 
 "Kirk Brander, you're going loco," he said to 
 himself. 
 
 Suddenly the sound of Roche's voice came to 
 him. Less than a mile off lay the Saskatchewan 
 and Koche was somewhere within that mile. He 
 urged his dogs forward and at the sound of bark- 
 ing that came from the trail ahead Bingo's ears 
 pointed up for a moment and with an answering 
 yelp he was off at a pace that made the other dogs 
 extend themselves to keep up without being actu- 
 ally dragged along by their leader. 
 
 Kirk was delighted with their unbroken spirit
 
 70 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 for the race had not been an easy one and there 
 remained nearly twenty miles yet to go. 
 
 When they broke suddenly from- the fringe of 
 willows above the river and swung down the bank, 
 Boche was only a few hundred yards away. The 
 river with its covering of ice and snow shone white 
 in the new day. On the eastern horizon, as if to 
 mark the goal towards which they were striving, 
 stood the sun, its red disk half showing above the 
 black-pointed spruce. In the town, thought Kirk 
 to himself, the people would be rolling sleepily 
 from their warm beds to be on hand for the finish. 
 And before him, his huge form plunging along in 
 the trail, his broad shoulders hunched forward 
 and his head low, was Phil Eoche, urging his team 
 forward with renewed vigor now that he realized 
 that Kirk was on his heels. 
 
 Something of the wild spirit of the moment fired 
 Kirk's blood as he reached the river level and 
 started in to overtake Boche. Here at any rate 
 was no phantom racer, no trick of light and sha- 
 dow, but the flesh and blood form of the man he 
 had to outrun and perhaps he did not know what 
 he might have to do before he was safely across 
 the finishing line. 
 
 But that first wild moment passed quickly and 
 Kirk settled down grimly to fight it out. He re^ 
 membered that in the crowd waiting on the river 
 there would be the patient form of Buth Mackay 
 eager for the first sight of the teams coming round 
 the bend in the river. He knew that even now,
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 71 
 
 sitting alone, or more probably pacing the floor of 
 his cell, Tuck Roberts was all but breaking under 
 the load of suspense and disappointment that 
 could be relieved only by the announcement of 
 victory. He would have given the best blood of his 
 heart to make these two happy. 
 
 Suddenly there flashed bef ore'his eyes the tight 
 mouth and set face of Marion Curtis when she had 
 last looked at him. Unconsciously his own mouth 
 tightened and his teeth set as he measured the dis- 
 tance that still separated him from Roche. The 
 blood of his heart was not for Marion Curtis he 
 knew that but the strength of his limbs, the iron 
 of his sinews, a kind of animal pride in the clean 
 blood of his veins, these were for her, and the 
 fight itself, whether it issued in victory or defeat. 
 
 Already he was close behind Roche. He had 
 made his dogs extend themselves and even Bingo 
 was beginning to show signs of strain. Roche, 
 wisely enough, was saving his team for the last 
 couple of miles and refused to be hurried unneces- 
 sarily by Kirk's approach. Kirk was not ungrate- 
 ful for a return to a somewhat slower pace. He 
 realized that a mile or so at an even gait would 
 give his dogs time to recover a little and prepare 
 for the final spurt. 
 
 At last, within five miles of the finishing line, 
 Kirk felt that the contest must be pushed to a deci- 
 sion. He let go the long lash of his whip and his 
 dogs responded at once as if they had been awak- 
 ened out of a half sleep. At the same time Roche
 
 72 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 renewed his efforts and the final struggle was be- 
 gun. Ahead, against the clear light of the morn- 
 ing sky, the little white church, high upon the 
 river bank, marked the spot below which stretched 
 the finishing line. About half way along the 
 course Kirk thought he saw something that looked 
 like another team in the trail. A fear leaped in 
 his heart and he strained his eyes to make sure 
 that he was not being tricked again. But the 
 bright sun gleaming on the white snow was daz- 
 zling to his eyes. Everywhere black spots danced 
 crazily before him and he gave up looking. 
 
 "Wh-s-s-st bing!" He whistled sharply and 
 
 shouted as he flourished his whip. "Bingo! Hy- 
 yip!" 
 
 His leader leaped forward at the sound of his 
 voice and turned aside from the trail as he came 
 close upon Roche's flying heels. It was rather 
 early yet to force the pace to the limit but Bingo 
 seemed eager to get past and Kirk felt like letting 
 him have his way. A sharp curve in the trail that 
 Roche was following made it a good spot to pass 
 and gain the position ahead with the covering of 
 little additional ground. Before Bingo had reach- 
 ed the point where the trail angled across in front 
 of him, however, Roche had sent his leader for- 
 ward at a pace that clearly showed how deter- 
 mined he was to hold the lead. But Bingo was not 
 to be denied. He seemed to have made the race 
 his own particular concern and to have forgotten 
 that he was under directions from a driver. His
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 73 
 
 body was low, almost brushing the hard snow sur- 
 face over which he was running and his feet flew 
 under him as if they had been driven mechanically 
 by some engine that knew no fatigue. Steadily he 
 reduced the advantage that Roche's leader held 
 with 'all the tenacity that a huskie can show when 
 he is urged by the whip-lash and the lurid pro- 
 fanity of a driver. 
 
 It was clear to Kirk and Roche alike that Bingo 
 would not be cheated out of what he was striving 
 for. Suddenly the expression of Roche's face 
 changed. He raised his whip hand and before 
 Kirk could interfere, Bingo received a sharp cut 
 of the lash across the face. No dog could be ex- 
 pected to continue his speed unbroken in the face 
 of such interference. Bingo leaped to one side, 
 yelping from the smart and buried his snout in 
 the snow between his feet. 
 
 At that moment Kirk's heart held murder. He 
 had been running within six feet of Roche when 
 the latter had drawn his whip across Bingo's face. 
 At the sound of the dog's yelp of pain, he leaped 
 across the intervening space and landed directly 
 in front of Roche who, unable to prepare himself 
 in time for the impact, floundered awkwardly in 
 an effort to defend himself. Before he could raise 
 a hand, however, Kirk's fist shot forward and met 
 him. The result was due as much to Roche's own 
 awkwardness as to the force of Kirk's blow. The 
 big fellow dropped to the trail where he scrambled 
 a moment in an effort to get to his feet.
 
 74 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 As he stood above him, Kirk was tempted at 
 first to let him up and fight it out. But he re- 
 membered Ruth Mackay's words. He was run- 
 ning a race and much hung upon the result. He 
 slipped off the thong that bound his whip to his 
 wrist and seizing the whip about three feet from 
 the heavy knotted handle, raised it abo- T e Roche's 
 head. 
 
 ' ' Don 't move ! " he commanded. * * Lie there or 
 by God, I'll brain you!" 
 
 Roche moved defiantly but Kirk's hand rose 
 just a trifle and the look in his face was savage. 
 
 "Don't, I tell you!" 
 
 Roche settled back on the snow breathing heav- 
 ily and muttering curses. Kirk turned his head 
 slightly and called to his dogs. Bingo, whimper- 
 ing and shaking his head with the blood dripping 
 from his jaws, came slowly towards him, his tail 
 low between his legs. 
 
 For a moment as he looked at the dog's bleeding 
 mouth, Kirk had all he could do to control himself. 
 With his eyes upon Roche where he lay on the 
 ground he ran his hands over the dog's head and 
 neck and pressed his face close down to his ears. 
 
 "Bingo, Bingo," he said soothingly. 
 
 The dog seemed to understand at once that his 
 driver had not held the whip that had cut him so 
 cruelly. 
 
 "Bingo!" 
 
 Kirk's voice changed suddenly and the dog's 
 tail came up in an arch above his back.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 75 
 
 i "Go after them, Bingo I" Kirk cried and turned 
 the dog's head down the trail to where Eoche's 
 team was trotting along lazily now that their 
 driver 's whip had been silenced. 
 i Bingo 's face expressed understanding that was 
 something more than merely animal. He gave 
 forth a sharp yelp and tore himself out of Kirk's 
 arms as he started down the trail in hot pursuit. 
 Kirk waited with an eye upon Eoche until his team 
 was well away and not until they had come up 
 with Eoche's team did he move. 
 
 "See you later, Phil," he said and his sense of 
 humor had returned. 
 
 He was off at full speed before Eoche could get 
 up. Five minutes later the two teams, with their 
 drivers following, were racing madly with only a 
 couple of hundred yards between them and about 
 three miles yet to go before they should cross the 
 line. 
 
 j And then it came again to Kirk's mind that an- 
 other team was even then finishing the race down 
 there where he could see the black line of the 
 crowd that was waiting. No matter he would 
 run to beat Eoche. If another arrived before him 
 he had done as much as his dogs could do and no 
 one could do more. 
 
 The last quarter of a mile was a contest to 
 break the stoutest heart. Eoche's dogs had spent 
 less of their energy, they had had nothing besides 
 the race itself upon which to lay it out. Two of 
 Kirk's dogs were plainly tiring and nothing but
 
 76 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 the fierce spirit of the fighter was keeping Bingo 
 on his feet. As he led the way towards the finish 
 his jaws were angry and red with Mood and a con- 
 stant savage growling came from his deep throat. 
 Had Roche's leader or any other dog, for that 
 matter, appeared within reach of those jaws no 
 human power could have controlled Bingo's mad 
 instinct to kill. 
 
 Gradually Roche's team crept closer until with 
 only a quarter of a mile to go his leader was at 
 Kirk's heels. The crowd that had come down to 
 be on hand at the finish had run up the course to 
 meet the rivals and their constant cheering was 
 disconcerting to the dogs. But Bingo, his head 
 low and his fierce eyes shifting only a little from 
 side to side, growled and snarled at the first ap- 
 proach of anyone who ventured near enough to 
 cause interference. 
 
 Within a hundred yards of the finish only a few 
 feet separated the leaders of the two teams. 
 Roche 's whip had been flying constantly nothing 
 else could have got his dogs to do what they were 
 doing. Now, for the first time in the race, Kirk 
 drew his whip back and sent the tip of the lash 
 stinging against Bingo's flank. The growling 
 ceased only for a moment as the dog's voice issued 
 in a savage bark and with a forward bound that 
 almost dragged the team from their feet he left 
 Roche's leader and sprang over the line fully ten 
 feet ahead of his rival. 
 
 Kirk paid no heed to the madly cheering crowd
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 77 
 
 that surged about him and pushed their way in to 
 get a look at the dogs. His mind just then was 
 busy with other things. He went forward to 
 where Bingo stood snarling and snapping in a 
 wide circle of admiring men and women who were 
 wise enough to keep at a safe distance. He was 
 about to put his hand on the dog's head when 
 Bingo turned and bared his white fangs angrily. 
 Kirk drew back quickly. For a moment he looked 
 at the dog and spoke once sharply. When Bingo 
 turned his head towards him Kirk continued look- 
 ing at him and his hand tightened about his whip. 
 In Kirk's face and the slight movement of his 
 hand, the dog read the mind of his master. Only 
 a moment did he hesitate while Kirk's hand moved 
 menacingly, then dropping his ears and lowering 
 his head he crept towards Kirk, whimpering a 
 little as he came close and waited. Suddenly Kirk 
 dropped to one knee in the snow and drew the dog 
 close. His arms encircled his leader's body and 
 while he spoke with his mouth close to Bingo's 
 ears the dog whined a little and leaned heavily to- 
 wards him. 
 
 Kirk looked up quickly at the sound of a fami- 
 liar voice and got to his feet just as Euth Mackay 
 broke through the crowd. 
 
 "Kirk, Kirk!" she cried as she ran to him and 
 flung her arms about him. 
 
 Then, seeing Bingo, she dropped on her knees 
 beside the dog unmindful alike of the warnings
 
 78 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 from the crowd and of Kirk's futile efforts to hold 
 her back. 
 
 "Look ont the dog's mad!" someone cried 
 from ont of the crowd. 
 
 But Kuth was already on the ground, her arms 
 about the dog's neck, her face buried in his warm 
 and shaggy neck. 
 
 "Bingo, Bingo," she said softly and the dog, 
 his sides panting and his whole body trembling, 
 snuggled closer to her as she spoke his name. 
 
 And as he looked at the two of them, Kirk was 
 aware of Marion Curtis standing behind him. He 
 turned and faced her where she stood smiling and 
 silent on the edge of the crowd near him. She did 
 not move nor did the expression on her face 
 change as he smiled in reply and raised his hand 
 slightly by way of greeting. 
 
 Later when he drove his team up from the river 
 and walked down the street with Ruth beside 
 him on the way to see Tuck, he ventured to ask a 
 question which had been on his mind ever since he 
 had crossed the line ahead of Roche. 
 
 "There was nobody ahead of us, was there, 
 Ruth?" 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. 
 
 "In the race?" 
 
 Kirk nodded. 
 
 "Why, no, yon foolish! We won it!" 
 
 And Kirk could not help wondering just who, 
 after all, had won it and who had helped to bring 
 victory out of defeat.
 
 CHAPTER VHX. 
 
 HALF an hour later Kirk and Bnth Mackay 
 left Tuck Eoberts and went out into the 
 street. Kirk had his dogs to attend to and 
 felt the need of a few hours' rest himself. He 
 paused a moment before leaving Euth and took 
 her hand. 
 
 "You mustn't allow this affair to get you, 
 Euth," he warned and he smiled at her. "You've 
 got a red nose now and your eyes look as if yon 
 hadn't had any sleep for a week. Perk up, Euth, 
 girl perk up ! It'll be all right in a day or so." 
 
 "I'm not really worrying over it, at all," she 
 replied. "Tuck has told me all about it and he 
 says he didn't do it." 
 
 "And you believe him?" 
 
 Euth looked at him quickly. "Tuck has never 
 told me what wasn't true," she replied with some 
 emphasis. * ' He didn 't have a thing to do with this 
 fur stealing. If he had he'd have told me." 
 
 "That's the stuff, Euth," Kirk replied. "For- 
 get it!" 
 
 "It's a bad thing for Tuck just the same," she 
 said slowly as if thinking aloud. "It should never 
 have happened. ' ' 
 
 Kirk looked at her with questioning eyes. She 
 
 79
 
 80 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 turned her face to him and moving closer put her 
 hand on his arm. 
 
 "We can't always say what we're thinking 
 about," she said and drew away in silence. 
 
 Though Kirk Brander had known Tuck Koberts 
 for years, during which they had shared their 
 trials and split their gains, it was evident that 
 Birth Mackay's heart held something that was 
 closed to the outer world. And although he could 
 not escape the chill which came to him with the 
 conviction that he w r as of the outer world where 
 Ruth and Tuck were concerned, he could not but 
 think the better of both of them for the confidence 
 they imposed in each other. 
 
 On his way back he called for a moment to have 
 a word alone with Jim Cavanagh. He found the 
 constable in his office and when he had closed the 
 door behind him he went directly to the subject. 
 
 "Tom," he said, "what evidence have they on 
 Tuck?" 
 
 Cavanagh did not smile nor did he attempt to 
 evade the question. 
 
 "Brander," he replied, looking Kirk in the eye, 
 "you make it damned hard for a man to follow the 
 regulations." 
 
 "I know it's against the rules it's against 
 common sense," replied Kirk, "but I want to 
 know how serious the case is. I have my own rea- 
 sons for wanting to know and I give you my 
 word of honor that no use will be made of any- 
 thing you tell me."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 81 
 
 'Cavanagh thought quietly for a long time look- 
 ing out of the window. When he turned again and 
 looked at Kirk his voice was very deliberate. 
 
 "The evidence is pretty circumstantial," he 
 said. "The furs were missed from the warehouse 
 early yesterday morning and we found them 
 cached in the woods the other side of the railway 
 track." 
 
 "But Tuck " 
 
 "Well there were marks in the snow it does- 
 n^t matter just what and we were forced to go 
 and take a look at two or three kennels. Yester- 
 day afternoon we went to look at Tuck's dogs and 
 outfit. We found the bells had been taken off and 
 we got a little information to the effect that the 
 dogs had been away nearly all night. That's 
 about all there is that I can give you, Brander. 
 There's a little more but it wouldn't do you any 
 good to know it and it wouldn't help us any. 
 But I'll tell you this and I don't like to have to 
 say it either for I 've always liked Tuck we have 
 it on him if we ever had it on anyone and it would- 
 n't do any good taking chances." 
 
 Kirk stood for some time perplexed. 
 
 "The evidence may be bad," Kirk remarked at 
 last, "but if Tuck Eoberts is that kind of a man 
 I think I'd have found it out long ago." 
 
 "We'll not lose any time in finding out all there 
 is to know about it," Tom Cavanagh observed. 
 
 That Tuck would come clean out of the affair, 
 Kirk could not doubt. And yet, with all the con-
 
 82 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 fidence he had in the man whom he had loved as 
 his best friend, a sense of uneasiness grew within 
 him as he recalled Ruth's words. It was this that 
 kept him awake long after he had gone to bed 
 weary from his night's exertions.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE presence of Marion Curtis in The 
 Pas had 'been very trying to Warren K. 
 Paxton. In fact her arrival had come as a 
 climax to a number of trying experiences during 
 the past few months. The world outside had be- 
 gun to talk quite freely about the future of the 
 mining industry in the north. The Lucky Strike, 
 a small body of very high grade copper, had been 
 worked under the most difficult conditions and yet 
 had paid a handsome profit to its owners. From 
 this single enterprise alone, there had come re- 
 turns that inspired confidence. The wealth was 
 undoubtedly there if it could be reached. But the 
 Lucky Strike had been worked down to the lower 
 grades, its further development had been stopped, 
 and the eyes of mining men were turned to a large 
 property, the Micmac, which was still in the hands 
 of its original locator, old John Mackay. Two 
 companies had taken options on the property at 
 different times and had gone over the most of it 
 with the diamond drill. Both companies had been 
 forced out for the want of capital at a time when 
 the property was beginning to show up well in the 
 drilling. 
 "Warren Paxton was a patient and tireless work- 
 
 83
 
 84 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 er. For nearly a year he had been doing every- 
 thing in his power to come to terms with John 
 Mackay. But John Mackay knew more now about 
 the value of his holdings than he had known before 
 the diamond drill had gone over the property. He 
 knew, too, that Paxton and the men he represented 
 could meet his terms if they wished to and he was 
 prepared to wait just as long as they. And Paxton 
 had waited. But while he waited he had bought up 
 every prospect of any promise in the neighbor- 
 hood of the Micmac every prospect but one. 
 
 That one was a comparatively small property 
 which had been located and was still owned by 
 John Allen. John Allen had called his property 
 the "White Squaw, and Paxton had used every 
 means, fair and foul, to force the old prospector 
 to loosen his hold upon his claim. But John Allen 
 was no more approachable than John Mackay, and 
 Paxton had long since reached the limit of his 
 patience with the old fellows. For months, then, 
 he had contented himself with keeping others out 
 of the field. He had suspected Henry Tyne but 
 had feared him very little. Henry Tyne's best 
 days in the world of affairs were over. But the 
 unexpected coming of Marion Curtis had set him 
 to thinking again. In fact he had thought so hard 
 most of the night that he had overslept himself 
 and had missed seeing the finish of the race. But 
 he had af least made up his mind. He was going 
 to act. 
 
 About ten o'clock Paxton stood in the hall b'e-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 85 
 
 fore the door of Marion Curtis ' room. Only a few 
 minutes before from where he had been sitting in 
 the large waiting-room downstairs, he had seen 
 her enter the hotel with her maid and from the 
 corner of his eye he had watched her ascend the 
 stairway. When he had given her sufficient time 
 to remove her wraps he left his chair resolutely 
 and mounted the stairs with a precision that was 
 even more pronounced than usual. 
 
 But in spite of his customary resoluteness and 
 in spite of his wonted self-complacency, there was 
 something in his face that betrayed a ruffled spirit. 
 
 The door opened in response to his knock and 
 Marion Curtis stood silhouetted against the bright 
 sunlight that poured through the window behind 
 her. Here was additional cause for Paxton's dis- 
 comfiture. He rather guessed that she wore an 
 amused expression on her face, but it angered him 
 that the light prevented his seeing her easily. 
 
 "I hope you will not object to " he began. 
 
 Marion Curtis chuckled a little. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Paxton," she exclaimed and held 
 out her hand. "I really didn't expect to see you 
 around so early. You must have been up with the 
 rest of us to see the finish of the race. Won't you 
 come in?" 
 
 She talked rapidly and Paxton found no oppor- 
 tunity to explain his early call and so put himself 
 at ease. 
 
 "No, I didn't get np in time to see the finish," 
 he replied. "They tell me it was quite exciting."
 
 86 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 She stepped back into the room and motioned 
 to him to follow. 
 
 "No, thank you," he protested, "I just came 
 to pay my wager wanted to prove that I was a 
 good loser by taking the first opportunity of pay- 
 ing my debts." 
 
 "I hope you'll always be in a hurry to admit 
 you've placed your money on the wrong dog, Mr. 
 Paxton, ' ' she said quietly. 
 
 The remark found Paxton unprepared. Ap- 
 parently there was nothing to be gained in ex- 
 changing pleasantries with Marion Curtis. She 
 was a woman, yes, and a deucedly attractive wo- 
 man, too, but when she threw down a thinly veiled 
 challenge of that kind, 'by Jove, he would take it 
 up. 
 
 "Don't you think we could have a few minutes' 
 talk in confidence f " he asked. 
 
 Again she motioned to a vacant chair. 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Paxton," she replied in her 
 most charming manner. * 'I suppose we are bound 
 to come to it sooner or later anyhow." 
 
 Paxton hesitated in the doorway. "Don't you 
 think it would be better if we should go to the 
 little sitting-room at the end of the hall?" he sug- 
 gested. Her laugh made all protest futile. 
 
 "Don't be foolish, Mr. Paxton," she replied. 
 "What we have to say should be said privately, I 
 think. We might be disturbed there. And be- 
 sides, I've been my own boss for a long time. Come 
 in and sit down."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 87 
 
 When Paxton had taken the chair which she 
 offered him, Marion Curtis closed the door and 
 seated herself near the window where she could 
 get a clear view of his face. 
 
 * ' Now, then, ' ' she said. 
 
 Paxton drew a bill-fold from his pocket. 
 
 " First let me square accounts," he said. 
 
 She did not reply and he proceeded leisurely to 
 count out the bills. When he had finished he hand- 
 ed her the money. 
 
 "I think I warned you against this," she said 
 as she received the money, and her eyes twinkled 
 as she looked at him. 
 
 Paxton did not reply. He was not in a banter- 
 ing mood. When he had replaced his bill-fold he 
 leaned back in his chair and regarded her for a 
 moment in silence. 
 
 "There's no sense in our beating about the bush 
 any longer, Marion Curtis," he began abruptly. 
 "You are not in The Pas to see a dog-race any 
 more than I am. Let 's talk business. Henry Tyne 
 has been trying for six months to get his hands on 
 that Micmac property. If he had had the money 
 to secure an option on the property he would have 
 done it long ago. Besides, old John Mackay is a 
 stickler on terms. I know Henry pretty well and 
 I really never suspected him. Now I'm going to 
 tell you something. We have the money, we have 
 had it any time in the last year if we had wanted 
 an option on the Micmac. We were watching the 
 development of the Lucky Strike before we made a
 
 88 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 move. When you and Henry Tyne come to terms 
 with John Mackay you'll find yourselves saddled 
 with a white elephant that will cost you a good 
 half million before you can get out from under it. 
 I know the terms, and I know something about 
 what it costs these days to develop a mine. With 
 the cost of copper on the down grade as it has 
 been for a year or more, Henry Tyne will wish 
 with all his heart and soul that he had left this 
 business for someone with more experience in it." 
 
 Paxton drew himself up in his chair and took a 
 long breath as he regarded Marion Curtis. She 
 did not reply at once and appeared to be waiting 
 for him to continue. It was her silence that 
 prompted Paxton to proceed. 
 
 "Now, I'm going to tell you just why I'm here. 
 When I have made my position clear you will at 
 least have something worth thinking over. The 
 Lucky Strike has been working for a year or more. 
 But they're at the end of their job. All the high 
 grade ore has been taken out and they can't afford 
 to ship out the second grade stuff for treatment 
 outside. Their work is done there. Their plant 
 is going to be idle until something else happens. 
 What that something else is you know as well as 
 I do. We '11 have to have a railroad and a smelter 
 and no end of capital." 
 
 Marion Curtis made a motion of impatience. 
 
 "Don't you think we'd better come to the point 
 at once, Mr. Paxton? I've looked into the propo- 
 sition from the outside as well as I could and I
 
 THE LOBSTICK TEAIL 89 
 
 know pretty well already everything you have 
 been telling me. ' ' 
 
 Paxton got up from his chair and walked to- 
 wards the window. 
 
 "The Micmac property will not be worth a 
 tinker's flip to Henry Tyne or anyone else unless 
 he can get control of old man Allen's holdings in 
 the White Squaw as well. ' ' 
 
 "That's precisely the point, Mr. Paxton," she 
 replied. "At least that's the point we ought to 
 discuss if we're going to discuss anything at all. 
 Of course, we might disagree on whether the 
 Micmac can be made to pay without the White 
 Squaw." 
 
 Paxton had walked back to the other end of the 
 room. He turned quickly and faced her. 
 
 "We cannot disagree on that," he said. 
 
 "We might," she replied, "but we are not going 
 to. We can afford to let the point stand over until 
 the experiment is tried. You can't tell anything 
 about a mine from walking over the surface. My 
 own opinion is that the Micmac may surprise 
 you." 
 
 Paxton shook his head without speaking. 
 
 ' * I know what you think, ' ' she continued. ' ' The 
 diamond drill has revealed no large body of high 
 grade ore. But the property has been only about 
 half drilled. The best half, I am forced to be- 
 lieve, is the part near the lake into which the dril- 
 lers have never gone. We may even have to go 
 under the lake to get at it."
 
 90 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Paxton still shook his head. It was the only 
 thing to do. Here was a woman that talked about 
 mining as if she had been in the business of de- 
 veloping mining properties for years. She had 
 as good command of the facts as Paxton himself 
 had he feared even better. Her convictions, he 
 knew, were mere guesses. But he knew that all 
 convictions touching an undeveloped mine are 
 mere guesses, let them be held by man or woman. 
 
 "In short, Mr. Paxton," she was saying in spite 
 of his persistent head-shaking, " there is a 
 romantic side to the mining game and that is one 
 of the best reasons in the world why a woman has 
 as good a chance as a man or even better/' 
 
 "Then you are not in the field for old man 
 Allen's stuff?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 Marion Curtis looked out of the window a few 
 moments before she replied. 
 
 "I didn't say that, did It" she replied. 
 
 "Then let's get down to brass tacks," Paxton 
 said a little brusquely. "You haven't a chance in 
 the world with old John Allen." 
 
 "Not" 
 
 "No. You'll never own a ton of ore in the 
 White Squaw." 
 
 "You might at least tell me why, Mr. Paxton." 
 
 "There are two reasons. One is old John Allen 
 himself." 
 
 "And the othert" 
 
 He placed an index finger on his chest. "I am 
 the other I and the interests behind me."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 91 
 
 "You could make yourself a little clearer," 
 Marion Curtis suggested. 
 
 "I mean simply this," Paxton said, coming 
 quite close to her. "We hav^ done everything in 
 God's world to get John Allen to talk business 
 with us but he 's as deaf as a barber 's pole. Ask 
 him about his mine and he'll talk about cabbages. 
 If you want to know what he 's going to do about 
 developing the property he '11 tell you about a new 
 brand of potatoes he's trying to grow on the bare 
 rock. Ask him about the water power on the pro- 
 perty and he'll tell you you never drank water like 
 his in all the world. We've tried it for a year and 
 we know." 
 
 Marion Curtis laughed more at Paxton 's deep 
 seriousness than at what he was telling her. 
 
 "You ought to try shooting him," she sug- 
 gested, but Paxton allowed her remark to pass 
 unnoticed. 
 
 "He won't talk business one of these eccentric 
 old Englishmen " 
 
 "But he might change some day," she vent- 
 ured, "and when he does " 
 
 "When he does," Paxton hurried to remind her, 
 "well be there to do the talking." 
 
 Marion Curtis smiled to herself. "We'll have 
 an equal chance, at any rate, Mr. Paxton, if we put 
 in our stakes in the Micmac. It's just across one 
 end of the lake, isn't it?" 
 
 "You would save yourself a lot of time and 
 trouble," he replied, "if you would remember that
 
 92 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 location isn't the only thing in the mining busi- 
 
 ness. " 
 
 Paxton drew his coat together, preparing to 
 leave, and Marion Curtis got to her feet. 
 
 "It might save you some time and trouble, too/' 
 she said, "if you could get it clear in your mind 
 that we are not depending entirely upon locations, 
 either, Mr. Paxton. " 
 
 Paxton went to the door and paused a moment 
 with his hand on the knob. 
 
 "Naturally you'll drag young Brander into this 
 thing," he said, looking directly at her. She re- 
 turned his gaze without flinching. 
 
 "He thinks a great deal of his uncle Henry," 
 ehe replied. 
 
 "Well don't do it. It will do you no good 
 and it might possibly do him a lot of harm." 
 
 "I shall tell him what you say he will be fore- 
 warned at any rate." 
 
 Paxtor smiled thinly and went out. 
 
 When Paxton had gone Marion Curtis got into 
 her furs hurriedly and called her maid. 
 
 "I'm going to be quite busy until about one 
 o'clock, Kathleen," she said. "And don't forget 
 Miss Allen is to be here for luncheon. If she 
 comes before I get back, just ask her to sit down 
 and wait for me. ' ' 
 
 She permitted Kathleen to arrange the fur 
 snugly about her neck and then, smiling on her 
 maid with genuine affection, she hurried away 
 and a moment later was in the street.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 L'ATE that afternoon Kirk Brander got from 
 Ms bed where he had 'been trying to make 
 up the sleep he had lost the night before. 
 The race won, he was prepared now to put himself 
 at the disposal of Marion Curtis and to give his 
 time to the carrying out of her orders. 
 
 It was with a feeling of expectancy, therefore, 
 that he stepped into the street and hurried off to 
 visit Wu Lung before reporting for duty. 
 
 Before the door of the restaurant Kirk noticed 
 a team of dogs and cariole which he recognized at 
 once as belonging to Dags. The outfit was ready 
 for the trail and Kirk surmised that Dags had 
 already had enough of civilization as it was dis- 
 pensed in The Pas and was about to make a hur- 
 ried escape. 
 
 He found the old fellow paying for his supper 
 as he entered. 
 
 "What's the hurry, Dags, old boy?" he said as 
 he closed the door and stepped towards him. 
 
 Dags turned and with an air of patronage look- 
 ed Kirk over from heels to head. To Bark's sur- 
 prise the old fellow was steady on his feet and his 
 
 93
 
 94 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 eye was as clear as if he had never taken a drink 
 in his life. 
 
 "Kirk, my boy," he said at last, "I'm leavin' 
 town cold sober now what d'ye think o' that? 
 An' while I'm sober I'm go in' to say what I'd 
 say if I wasn't. There's some that can live in 
 towns an' like it. They can have it an' be damned. 
 They tell me you're goin' out to stay somewhere 
 south in the big cities. You can have it, too, but 
 I'm here to tell you one thing. This country is bad 
 enough, God knows. I'm livin' here but I'm only 
 about half conscious most of the time or I'd get 
 out. But I wouldn't go with you if there was free 
 gold to dig in the middle of every street no, not 
 if it was the heavenly city itself with the streets 
 paved with it. People that live in cities are a 
 damn', Godless, cutthroat gang o' night wolves, 
 breedin' dope systems an' yellow livers an' givin* 
 twenty-four hours a day devisin' schemes whereby 
 the human race can lengthen its rations and short- 
 en its wind. If you 're goin ' all right, go ! Here 's 
 my hand, Kirk, an* God Almighty save you until 
 you discover it's time to get back. An' when you 
 do get back before they get you so you can't 
 leave. You understand me ? ' ' 
 
 He shook Kirk's hand as he spoke and looked 
 him in the eye with an expression of real regret. 
 Kirk realized that Dags was finding it hard to say 
 good-bye. 
 
 4 'I understand, Dagsie," he said.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 95 
 
 "Eight!" replied Dags. "You'll be gone be- 
 fore I come back again good-bye." 
 
 f< Good-bye, Dagsie." 
 
 They shook hands warmly and Kirk stood and 
 watched him until the old man had gone out and 
 closed the door behind him. 
 
 Less than an hour later Kirk lighted himself a 
 fresh cigarette, took leave of the half dozen or so 
 of his friends with whom he had been discussing 
 the details of the race, and went out into the street. 
 He was feeling unusually pleased with the world 
 in general. The winnings he had taken on the race 
 in addition to the prize money which he was yet to 
 receive would make a respectable showing along- 
 side the credit he had already established with 
 the bank. Altogether, he thought to himself, he 
 was going back to civilization with enough hard 
 cash to put him on self-respecting terms with his 
 new life. 
 
 As he walked leisurely down the street, his mind 
 bent upon seeing Tuck Koberts, he became aware 
 of someone overtaking him. Turning he saw the 
 bulky figure of Warren K. Paxton and caught a 
 glimpse of the thin smile that covered his 
 countenance. 
 
 "Congratulations on the good race yon ran, 
 Brander," he said as he offered to shake hands. 
 
 "Thanks, very much," Kirk replied, shaking 
 hands.
 
 96 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "I lost some of my very good money on that 
 race, Brander, but I have no regrets." 
 
 Kirk smiled. "You can hardly blame me for 
 that," he replied. 
 
 "You're responsible, at any rate," Paxton 
 laughed and the two continued down the street. 
 
 A few minutes later Paxton stopped suddenly 
 before the door of his office. 
 
 "Are you in a hurry, Brander?" he asked. 
 When Kirk showed no particular signs of haste, 
 Paxton opened the door. * * Come in for a minute 
 or two and sample my cigars." 
 
 Kirk tossed away what was left of his cigarette 
 and followed Paxton into the office. They entered 
 an inner compartment which was separated from 
 the outer office by a partition that did not quite 
 reach to the ceiling. The place was warm and as 
 Paxton took a box of cigars from an upper drawer 
 in the desk Kirk submitted to the feeling of com- 
 fort that came over him and sat down readily 
 enough after he had lighted his cigar from the 
 match which Paxton held for him. 
 
 ''There's a little matter of business I want to 
 speak to you about," Paxton began abruptly when 
 he had seated himself and had taken a few satis- 
 fying puffs from his cigar. 
 
 Kirk waited without speaking. 
 'You no doubt know there has been a consider- 
 able amount of mining activity in the country 
 lately," he continued. "I mean, of course, there
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 97 
 
 has been some business activity, some little in- 
 terest from the outside world." 
 
 "I have heard a little about it," Kirk admitted, 
 "though I haven't spent much time in town during 
 the past year." 
 
 Paxton nodded his head. "That interest will 
 probably grow," he went on. "Soon there will 
 be men in here with a little money ready to buy up 
 everything that looks like a prospect. The mining 
 game is the same old story the world over. One 
 or two men will strike it rich the great majority 
 will lose all they put into it. It's a game that 
 should not be played except by men who have un- 
 limited capital, Brander, men who can afford to 
 lose a million five million and carry on just the 
 same." 
 
 As Kirk looked at Paxton closely for the first 
 time he felt an instinct rise within him that 
 cautioned him against speaking. For months he 
 had wanted to go out where he would have to deal 
 with men of affairs whose concern was only with 
 big schemes of development and enterprise. Here, 
 in this man who was talking to him, the big world 
 he had dreamed of was, as it were, reaching in and 
 touching him with its finger. He listened with 
 eager interest. 
 
 "I have just heard definitely to-day for the first 
 time that your good old uncle, Henry Tyne, is 
 about to plunge in." 
 
 Paxton paused. 
 
 "I don't know much about it," Kirk declared.
 
 98 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 
 
 For a moment Paxton seemed puzzled. 
 
 "That may be perfectly true," he replied, at 
 last. "But Mrs. Curtis will probably tell you all 
 you want to know. Nothing has been said about 
 it publicly your uncle has seen to that. ' ' 
 
 Kirk smiled in response to the little jibe at his 
 uncle Hal. 
 
 "Brander, I want to speak frankly to you," 
 Paxton said finally. "You have been away from 
 things for some time I remember when you 
 cleared out and left the old fellow without warn- 
 ing. It was a good joke on Henry, and I had a 
 good laugh at him until he began to take it seri- 
 ously. Now, listen. Henry Tyne has had a hard 
 time of it during the last year or so. He's not in 
 the position he was when you knew him and he 's 
 not the man he was, either. " 
 
 Kirk felt the strings tighten about his heart as 
 Paxton spoke. 
 
 "Now," continued Paxton, "he's going to put 
 everything he owns into a deal that's too big for 
 him. He hasn't the capital and he hasn't the 
 strength left in him to do it." 
 
 Paxton 's words had not, perhaps, the effect 
 upon Kirk that he had hoped. Quietly Kirk was 
 beginning to see in a new light the part he was yet 
 to play alongside his old uncle. He did not know 
 in what position his uncle was financially. He 
 would learn all that from Marion Curtis. But he 
 certainly would not stand aside and see his old 
 guardian beaten in his last days.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 99 
 
 "It seems to me, Mr. Paxton," he said quietly, 
 "that Unk needs some new blood to help him 
 out." 
 
 Paxton 's air was patronizing. 
 
 "Brander," he said in the mellowest voice he 
 could command, "it's time your uncle was 
 quitting." 
 
 Kirk started forward. "Quitting? Oh, no, Mr. 
 Paxton. You don't understand Henry Tyne. He 
 doesn't quit." 
 
 "But he can't go on you'll discover that when 
 you see him." 
 
 "He '11 go on until " 
 
 "Now let's look things in the eye, Brander," 
 Paxton interrupted. "Henry Tyne is through 
 he knows that himself, only he's too proud to ad- 
 mit it to the rest of us. Why, man, what do you 
 think of his sending Marion Curtis in here on such 
 a commission?" 
 
 "Mrs. Curtis seems like a very clever woman to 
 me," Kirk admitted in defense. 
 
 ^*As a woman yes I agree with you. But 
 why send a woman? Don't you see the poor old 
 fellow is simply knuckling under to the fates." 
 
 Kirk got up from his comfortable chair and 
 walked about for a moment or two in thought. He 
 had not been prepared for any such sudden intro- 
 duction to affairs of the kind that Paxton dis- 
 cussed. There was so much that he did not know, 
 could not even guess at, that he hesitated before 
 it all even as he felt most, eager to be a living part
 
 100 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 of it. Through all the maze of difficulty that faced 
 him, however, he saw one thing clearly. He turn- 
 ed quickly upon Paxton. 
 
 "I don't know yet what all this means, " he said, 
 and ne spoke very simply and directly, "but on 
 one thing I am clear, Mr. Paxton. If Henry Tyne 
 wants anything in this country and has the money 
 to buy it, I'm going to stand by him until he gets 
 
 it" ' 
 
 Paxton had risen from his chair as Kirk spoke 
 and coming forward now, laid his hand paternally 
 on Kirk's shoulder. 
 
 "Brander, my boy," he said, "you're young " 
 
 "I may " 
 
 "Just a minute. You're young and you have a 
 career to think of. A little guidance from a man 
 of practical business judgment will save you a lot 
 of time and a lot of needless worry." 
 
 "I think I can profit from the business ex- 
 perience of my uncle," Kirk replied. "In fact, I 
 am already employed by him and have reported 
 for duty." 
 
 Paxton saw that he was only making the situ- 
 ation more difficult by carrying on the discussion 
 in such a vein. He turned suddenly upon Kirk. 
 His thin smile had vanished and in his face there 
 blazed the spirit of the real Paxton. 
 
 "Then, listen to me, young man," he snapped. 
 "You're going to run up against the toughest 
 proposition you ever faced in your young life. You 
 think you're going to get in here with the little
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 101 
 
 capital you have and spoil the chances of men who 
 could make something out of it. All right go to 
 it. See how far you can go before you cry for 
 help." 
 
 "You may make us quit the game, Mr. Paxton, 
 but we'll never cry for help," Kirk replied. 
 
 Paxton seemed not even to have heard the 
 words. "You will find out for yourself what it 
 means to buck men with money and influence in 
 the country." 
 
 *'I have bucked blizzards for five years," Kirk 
 reminded him, his sense of humor coming back in 
 spite of Paxton 's angry ravings. 
 
 "I had no feeling over this affair at first," Pax- 
 ton went on. "none whatever. I thought we could 
 come to terms that would be satisfactory to every- 
 body. We have some small holdings in there and 
 would have sold them at a reasonable figure to 
 make the proposition worth while for you." 
 
 "Maybe you'll sell them to us yet," Kirk sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " Not by a damn ' sight !" 
 
 " You never can tell," Kirk laughed. 
 
 But Paxton refused to see any humor in the 
 case. He objected, moreover, to being laughed at. 
 "Not by a damn' sight, young fellow," he re- 
 peated. ' * And we '11 fight with every dollar we can 
 raise and every bit of influence we can exert. 
 When it's over you'll know you've been in a fight, 
 at any rate. ' ' 
 
 "I think I'll like that " Kirk commented.
 
 102 
 
 "You'll be welcome to it," Paxton returned. 
 
 "Only," Kirk added, "you'd better fight clean, 
 Mr. Paxton, or " 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "Wen or what?" Paxton prompted. 
 
 "Well, there'll be bits of hide to clean when 
 it's all over and your hide is going to be in it if 
 the fight isn't on the level." 
 
 Not a word passed between the men as Kirk 
 pulled his cap down, buttoned his coat snugly 
 about him and went to the outer door. 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Paxton," he called as he 
 paused a moment with his hand on the door knob. 
 
 A nondescript grunt was Paxton 's only re- 
 sponse. And Kirk laughed to himself as he went 
 out into the street. He would tell Tuck about it, 
 he said to himself, and Marion Curtis, too. 
 
 When Kirk walked into the crowded hall that 
 night and looked them all over hurriedly in an 
 effort to discover Marion Curtis, his blood was 
 quick with new excitement. His talk with Paxton 
 had given him re-birth into a world that he had 
 known for months only in dreams. There was 
 something big, something compelling in the feel- 
 ing that just on the eve of his going out to find 
 another world it should come in and seek him out. 
 And that world had come to him not only in Pax- 
 ton; its dawn had broken upon him in Marion 
 Curtis. She had been its herald, she was still its 
 radiant symbol. 
 
 The dancers were already on the floor, the ma-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 103 
 
 jority of them in gay northern garb of every 
 description, their moccassined feet brushing the 
 floor in soft rhythm to the music. Everywhere were 
 bright faces that radiated health and happiness 
 and the joy of clean living, and Kirk for the 
 moment loved these people of the north country 
 more keenly than he had ever done. When the 
 dance was finished he walked across the floor to- 
 ward Euth Mackay, who seeing him approaching, 
 left her partner without a word and ran out to 
 meet him. As they met Kirk caught her by the 
 arms, lifted her from the floor playfully and set 
 her down again. Suddenly the crowd broke into 
 a ringing cheer for the Derby victor. Kirk re- 
 ceived the greeting with a wave of the hand and a 
 smile that was almost boyishly self-conscious. 
 Catching Euth's hand where she had hooked it 
 round his elbow he hurried to the side of the room 
 and returning her to her partner sat down beside 
 them smiling still as the crowd continued cheering. 
 It was then that his eyes fell upon Marion 
 Curtis seated across the room from him. In her 
 curt bow of recognition and her faint smile there 
 was something that Kirk had never seen in her be- 
 fore. Laying his hand upon Euth's shoulder he 
 excused himself quietly and getting up walked 
 over to her and held out his hand. She received 
 him graciously enough and accepted his invitation 
 to join him in the dance which was just beginning. 
 Scarcely a word passed between them as thej 
 picked their way carefully among the dancers,
 
 104 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 But in Kirk's veins beat the joy of youth and good 
 luck and pride in the modest intimacy with a wo- 
 man who by sheer abundance of personal power 
 seemed for the moment to dominate everyone 
 about her. 
 
 When he led her finally to a corner of the hall 
 and sat down, he drew his chair close to hers and 
 faced her. 
 
 "IVe discovered the dark secret you've been 
 keeping from me, ' ' he said. 
 
 In a moment her air of detachment vanished. In 
 its place was a look of eager interest. 
 
 ' ' Tell me, ' ' she demanded. 
 
 Then Kirk related in detail all that had passed 
 between him and Paxton. When he had finished 
 he was surprised that she was quite serious in 
 spite of his laughing. 
 
 "How long do you want to stay here!" she 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "At the dance?" 
 
 "Yes. Can you leave at once, or soon? We must 
 talk over things a little and get to work. ' ' 
 
 Kirk thought a moment. 
 
 "They will expect me to be here when the prizes 
 are given out, ' ' he said. * * That should come soon 
 and after that I can go any time though I must 
 dance once with Ruth." 
 
 "Ruth?" Marion Curtis enquired. "Is that the 
 name oJ the girl who met you when you came in?" 
 
 "Yes. You saw her! Ruth's a good pal of 
 mine."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 105 
 
 " She's a pretty little thing," she commented, 
 and Kirk, for the first time since he had known 
 Euth Mackay, gave himself time to pause and sub- 
 mit her to a hurried analysis. And there crept 
 into his mind a word that he had not had occasion 
 to use for years. Perhaps, after all, Euth was 
 " inadequate". The next moment he was sorry 
 for the thought. He loved Euth Mackay, not only 
 because of her love for Tuck Eoberts, but also be- 
 cause of a certain wholesome girlishness that she 
 embodied in herself. And as he looked across the 
 hall to where Euth was seated, he thought of the 
 heart-ache she was concealing beneath her chatter 
 and her smiles and he could not help feeling re- 
 sentful towards Marion Curtis. 
 
 Late that night Kirk sat in Marion Curtis ' room 
 and listened to her own account of what she had 
 done during her brief two days in town. To his 
 astonishment things had gone much farther than 
 he could even have guessed from what Paxton had 
 told him. Paxton had come back from Winnipeg 
 prepared to secure an option on the Micmac pro- 
 perty. But he had not come prepared to bid 
 against Marion Curtis. Before he could get word 
 to his men and obtain their permission to act on 
 his own judgment, she had made a tentative ar- 
 rangement with old John Mackay, and Paxton was 
 eliminated. Anticipating difficulty in another 
 quarter, she had closed a deal with the owners of 
 the Lucky Strike property by which she had a 
 week in which to decide whether or not she would
 
 106 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 buy the equipment which was now lying idle in 
 their old camp. 
 
 "All of which Warren K. Paxton knows by this 
 time," she said with an amused expression light- 
 ing her face. "But one thing he does not know 
 not yet. He does not know that old John Allen of 
 the White Squaw may be brought to talk business 
 yet if he 's handled right. ' ' 
 
 "You have seen him, then?" 
 
 "No, but I'm going to see him at once if yon 
 will do your part." 
 
 * * Count on me, ' ' Kirk replied. " I 'm in now and 
 I'm going to stay." 
 
 "Of course you're in, but you're simply pad- 
 dling at the edge yet. I think I can see a day when 
 this thing will be big enough for the biggest man 
 in the country and I want you to be prepared for 
 it when the time comes." 
 
 "What's the next move?" Kirk enquired 
 eagerly. 
 
 "We must go at once and find out what must be 
 done to get the equipment transferred from the 
 Lucky Strike. And we must see John Allen now 
 before Paxton has an opportunity. Everybody 
 just now is waiting for the 'spring break-up before 
 getting to work. What we can get done before the 
 snow and ice go will all be to the good. When can 
 we go?" 
 
 Kirk hesitated. 
 
 "Why, to-morrow anytime but it's-not a very 
 pleasant trip for "
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 107 
 
 "I mnst go," she interrupted. "I must see 
 John Allen." 
 
 "But how do you know you can see him he 
 may not " 
 
 Again she hurried to set his mind at rest. 
 
 "Must I tell you that Jule Allen has been in to 
 see me?" 
 
 * i Jule Allen ? ' ' Kirk exclaimed. * ' But she never 
 comes to town only once in the five years that I 
 have been here. Then she was with her father 
 just a bit of a girl. I can't think of her coming in 
 now after that blizzard and alone ! ' ' 
 
 Marion Curtis smiled. "Yes, alone and driv- 
 ing her own dogs. I didn't permit her to go back 
 alone, however." 
 
 "Then she's gone back already?" 
 
 "She left at dark this evening had her own 
 reasons for not wanting to stay and I commis- 
 sioned your friend Dags to go with her. He lives 
 somewhere in the same direction, doesn 't he ? " 
 
 "You know Dags, too?" Kirk exclaimed. 
 
 "My dear boy," she replied with a somewhat 
 patronizing air, "I have not been in your town for 
 two whole days for nothing." 
 
 Suddenly Kirk recalled Phil Roche's affair of 
 the previous summer. After all, Jule Allen was a 
 young woman by now. 
 
 "She didn't come in this morning?" he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 "About half an hour ahead of you," Marion 
 Curtis replied. 
 
 (8)
 
 108 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Kirk suddenly thought of the phantom racer 
 that had run ahead of him in the early morning. 
 
 "Good Lord!" he said to himself. 
 
 "What's the matter now!" 
 
 "Do you know what it means to a running team 
 to have a loose leader out on the trail ahead 
 always just round the next turn barking and 
 raising particular Cain all to himself ? ' ' 
 
 "I can understand, though I've never seen it 
 done," she replied. 
 
 "Well next best is to have another team lead- 
 ing if you want to get the most out of a string of 
 dogs. I wonder where she came in on the trail?" 
 
 Kirk was still puzzling over the problem when 
 Marion Curtis, after a considerable period of 
 silence, spoke again. 
 
 "Well, you'll need all the loose leaders and 
 everything else on the trail ahead of you in the 
 race you're going to run now, Kirk Brander." 
 
 How truly she spoke she did not know at the 
 time, for next morning before daybreak, Phil 
 Eoche was on the trail with a fresh dog-team. The 
 trail led in the same direction that Dags and Jule 
 Allen had taken just twelve hours before. In the 
 cariole was Warren Paxton ready with a new offer 
 which he proposed to make personally to that 
 stubborn old Englishman, John Allen. He felt 
 that his offer was extravagant but he was going 
 to make sure of at least one thing Henry Tyne 
 and Marion Curtis were not going to get their 
 hands on the White Squaw.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ALTHOUGH Paxton had done his best to 
 keep his departure from town a secret, 
 Ruth Mackay was at Kirk's door with the 
 news before ten o 'clock. The girl made no reply 
 to Kirk's question as to how she had come by her 
 information. On other occasions Kirk had ob- 
 served the same reticence in Ruth's manner and 
 although it had sometimes tried his patience he 
 remembered that in the veins of her mother's 
 people there had run the blood of the reticent Cree. 
 
 "When Ruth had gone, Kirk went at once to 1 
 Marion Curtis. She received the announcement 
 without the slightest excitement. She did not 
 need to be told that Warren Paxton was on his 
 way to John Allen. 
 
 "How long are they gone! " she asked after a 
 moment 's silence. 
 
 " Probably three or four hours," Kirk replied. 
 
 "How soon can we leave?" 
 
 "I can be ready in an hour, but you you 
 can't " 
 
 "I've got to go," she interrupted. "We can't 
 let him gain a single advantage at this stage. If 
 Jule Allen can make the trip, I can. Get ready." 
 
 109
 
 110 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "All right," Kirk replied. "I'll be ready by 
 eleven." 
 
 For an hour Kirk gave himself feverishly to 
 his preparations for the trip. John Allen's cabin 
 was almost a hundred miles to the north. If they 
 were to reach the end of their journey in time to 
 check Paxton's move the trip would have to be 
 made almost without a break. 
 
 By eleven o'clock they were on their way. 
 
 "We shall not talk another word of business 
 until until we have to," Marion Curtis said as 
 they took the trail up the river. 
 
 And Kirk agreed. The trail is not a good place 
 to talk anyhow. It is a place rather for long 
 silences when the mind and heart expand under 
 the magic influences of nature. And Kirk gave 
 his mind to the dogs, his own dogs this time, with 
 the untiring Bingo in the lead. The trail which 
 they followed was the same as that over which the 
 race had been run and over which Dags and Jule 
 Allen had gone the night before. It was keen and 
 hard and the dogs trotted along easily, almost 
 playfully, finding the weight of Marion Curtis in 
 the cariole scarcely noticeable in their frisking 
 high spirits. 
 
 The sun was quite warm and the snow shone 
 with dazzling whiteness wherever it lay open to 
 the sky. There was romance in the long stretch 
 of the great river winding white and silent be- 
 tween its wooded slopes. There was romance in 
 the heavy shores rising high on either side, the
 
 'THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 111 
 
 still retreat of wild life and the deep padded haunt 
 of the hunter. There was romance, too, in the 
 wide blue sky, the clean canopy of a man's world 
 whose horizons lay somewhere this side of that 
 other world which it shut out, the world of smoke 
 and noise and corruption. To Kirk, who had lived 
 the best five years of his life in the north, the 
 romance was the air he breathed, it was the 
 natural investiture of the world that was his, it 
 was simply living. He knew that wherever he 
 might find failure and disappointment and de- 
 feat, he could return here and find his veins filling 
 again with vigor and courage and desire. But to 
 Marion Curtis, whose eyes had never seen the 
 northland before, the romance was something dif- 
 ferent. Her heart thrilled to its own bounding 
 freedom, her blood raced with an excitement the 
 source of which she could not have explained, her 
 body was quick with eagerness to try its own 
 powers. She was intensely conscious of her own 
 beauty, of her womanhood supreme in a world 
 where elemental forces moved at their own bid- 
 ding, where man and nature were one in a common 
 destiny. 
 
 They had planned to make the trip as far as 
 Dags ' cabin by late night, to get an early start the 
 next morning and arrive at John Allen's cabin as 
 nearly as possible with Roche and Paxton. Dags 
 would be home, they knew ; Jule Allen would have 
 gone on alone. 
 
 Late that evening Marion Curtis had a new taste
 
 112 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 of northland romance when Kirk stopped his 
 dogs on the rim of a lake, on the other side of 
 which, some twenty miles away, stood Dags' cabin. 
 They had eaten a hearty meal at Sturgeon Land- 
 ing, a piping hot dinner of moose steak and fried 
 potatoes which the trader's wife had prepared and 
 served them, but Kirk never went far on the trail 
 without eating and Marion welcomed the sug- 
 gestion that they should pause and "boil the 
 kettle." 
 
 Just below them the trail they had been follow- 
 ing, an old winter portage, dropped down to the 
 lake and they could see clearly the tracks in the 
 snow that had been made by Roche and Paxton, 
 and by Dags and Jule Allen the night before. 
 Marion stood a moment and followed the long 
 track as far as her eyes could reach. She ran 
 lightly down the trail to the lake and stood a 
 moment searching the horizon in every direction. 
 To the north lay the lake with its hundreds of 
 small islands growing darker now that the sun 
 was getting lower. On the shore above her the 
 first faint flicker of the little fire that Kirk was 
 making shone against the dark background of 
 shadowy woods. Sharply outlined against the 
 sky one tall spruce tree lifted its head clear above 
 the others and stood out like a sentinel on duty. 
 She could not help noticing that the branches in 
 the middle of the tree had been cut off for a dis- 
 tance of ten or twelve feet leaving only a large 
 tufted head and a thick base of branches near the
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 113 
 
 ground. In the space that had been thns cleared 
 of limbs two long branches like the arms of some 
 gaunt spectre stretched out in opposite directions 
 from the tree trunk, their ends weighted down 
 with the soft snow that clung to them. 
 
 When she went back to where Kirk was busy 
 over the fire she pointed to the tree and asked him 
 its significance. 
 
 "That's a lobstick," he replied without taking 
 the time to look up. "All up and down this coun- 
 try wherever trails lead there are lobsticks to 
 point the way. ' ' 
 
 "You mean guide-posts!" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "The two arms in the middle give the directions. 
 That arm there, ' ' he said, pointing to the branch 
 on the northern side of the tree, "shows the direc- 
 tion we are taking across the lake to our friend 
 Dags. When we get there we '11 find another stick 
 and others along the way marking short-cuts 
 and portages and old trails that are the only lines 
 of communication in this part of the world. ' ' 
 
 Then they sat down side by side on a fallen 
 spruce tree and drank their cups of hot tea while 
 Kirk told her more of the romance of the lobstick, 
 how it had been used by the Indians as a means of 
 marking the spot where a hunter had killed a very 
 large moose, or where one man had buried an- 
 other who was his friend, or where a young brave 
 had made love to a maiden. 
 
 And Marion listened like a child hearing a fairy
 
 114 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 tale, her eyes fixed upon the fluttering flame of the 
 little fire at their feet, her face glowing in the red 
 light that danced in the gathering shadows. Once 
 after he had ceased speaking and as they sat to- 
 gether in silence watching the fire, Kirk allowed 
 his eyes to rest a moment on her face. As he did 
 so she turned and looked at him with a directness 
 and frankness that startled him and caused his 
 pulses to throb. Before those eyes he felt himself 
 almost powerless. For a moment only did she 
 look at him so one tense moment of recognition. 
 Then she dropped her eyes quickly and her fingers 
 played with the scarlet fringe of the scarf she 
 wore about her waist. Kirk put out his hand sud- 
 denly and caught her fingers. For a moment he 
 held them imprisoned, his eyes upon her face, 
 waiting for her to raise her head. When she fin- 
 ally looked at him she laughed and he released her 
 hand as suddenly as he had seized it. 
 
 "We're funny, " she said, getting up quickly 
 and walking a few yards away from him where she 
 stood and looked back at him, laughing. 
 
 "Do you find it amusing?" he asked, regarding 
 her seriously. 
 
 Between them there was being waged a battle 
 as old as the centuries. Kirk knew, as did Marion 
 herself, that there was little tenderness in the 
 fierce appeal that each made to the other. Alone 
 together, with the great silence of the north bear- 
 ing down heavily about them, with long miles sep- 
 arating them from the conventions and institu-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 115 
 
 tions that are the trappings of the civilized world, 
 it was as if they had suddenly become divested of 
 everything but the most elemental, the most insist- 
 ent upwellings of human desire. Marion's laugh 
 at once maddened and disarmed him, and without 
 another word he set about preparing to take the 
 trail. 
 
 When they were finally on the way again, the 
 stars had come out overhead and the air was fresh 
 with the crispness of the night-frost. Less than 
 two hours brought them inside the group of 
 islands that lay close to the shore. When they 
 swung round the end of a large island they had 
 been skirting for more than half a mile, the light 
 from Dags' cabin on shore shone clear to them 
 across the snow. 
 
 At the first sight of the light Marion exclaimed 
 and Kirk replied with a light laugh. And in that 
 particular and unguarded moment there passed 
 between them a recognition that throughout the 
 hours they had spent almost without a word on 
 the trail that day there had grown up between 
 them a kind of understanding, something like 
 intimacy itself, that after all served to make them 
 sufficient unto themselves in a world where there 
 was no one else to look to for companionship. 
 
 The feeling lasted for only a moment with Kirk, 
 however, and when a few minutes later he helped 
 Marion from the cariole and led her to the door of 
 Dags' cabin he was conscious of evading her 
 glance in which, he felt sure, lurked the teasing,
 
 116 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 almost scornful smile that was disturbing to him. 
 
 Kirk threw the door open suddenly upon Dags 
 frying a late supper of bacon over a hot stove. 
 What was on his lips to say, by way of expressing 
 his surprise, he checked suddenly as Marion step- 
 ped smiling through the doorway and went toward 
 him with her hand outstretched. Dags' face, as 
 he looked closely at Marion herself and then past 
 her at Kirk who was standing in the doorway, held 
 an expression that caused both Marion and Kirk 
 to laugh. 
 
 "No, we haven't been married, and we're not 
 running away," she explained, guessing what was 
 passing in the old fellow's mind. 
 
 "But we are hungry, Dagsie," Kirk put in. 
 
 In a moment Marion had briefly explained their 
 sudden appearance and had learned from Dags 
 that Roche and Paxton were ahead of them about 
 two hours whereupon Dags set himself to pre- 
 pare a meal large enough for at least five. Marion 
 removed some of her heavier wraps and Kirk went 
 out to relieve his dogs of their harness. 
 
 Before returning to the cabin Kirk followed a 
 little beaten path through the woods to a point 
 from where he could look out over the frozen, 
 snow-covered surface of the lake. A white moon, 
 almost full, had risen paling the stars with its 
 light. It was one of the nights that Kirk had 
 grown to love during his life in the north country. 
 The moonlight pierced the black shadows under 
 the trees where he stood and lay in ragged white
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 117 
 
 patches save where the bold straight shadows of 
 the tree-trunks gave severity to the patterns on 
 the snow. A short distance from the shore and 
 for miles beyond, the low black shapes of countless 
 islands lay in the elfin glow of moon and stars. 
 Accustomed though he was to scenes of rare na- 
 tural beauty, Kirk felt that he had never seen 
 anything so beautiful in his life. He was glad to 
 be alone to enjoy it and yet, with the thought of 
 the nearness of Marion Curtis, there welled up in 
 his heart a yearning, at first vague, and then in- 
 tense. 
 
 "When at last he opened the door of the cabin 
 and went in he found Dags in his normal mood 
 pouring forth anathema on the country and the 
 life he had nevertheless chosen for his own, a 
 mood that persisted throughout the meal and well 
 into the night while the three sat round the fire 
 and chatted, Dags doing most of the talking be- 
 tween vigorous puffs at his pipe. 
 
 " People ain't what they used to be/' Dags com- 
 mented by way of summarizing his evening's phil- 
 osophy. * * There used to be honest men and hon- 
 est women, too but they all died." 
 
 "You've lived too long alone," Marion Curtis 
 suggested, "you should have a wife, Dags." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't get married," he replied seri- 
 ously. "What would a woman do here? An* I 
 wouldn't bring children into the world to live any- 
 where else. They think they are fixin' things now 
 by this prohibition they're bringin' in. Well, let
 
 118 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 them go ahead an' fix. They'd have to put a red- 
 coat in every cabin north of fifty-three to make it 
 work here. But even if they did, it wouldn't mat- 
 ter to me. I've drunk about as much as is comin' 
 to me anyhow. I've had my share and I admit I 
 like it. Some people drink not because they want 
 it but because they want to raise enough nerve 
 to give other people hell an' can't do it without a 
 lot of bad whisky. Not me. I like it an ' I 'm goin ' 
 to have it as long as I can buy a pound of raisins. 
 "When they close the grocery shops I'll begin 
 growin' potatoes and savin' the skins. They'll 
 have to pass a law against a man havin' his own 
 garden. Human nature's a stubborn beast you 
 can coax it a little but when you start pushin' it, 
 it's liable to lie down on you. Better leave it alone 
 it's goin' ahead fast enough anyhow." 
 
 They sat late at the table that night and finally, 
 after everything possible had been done to give 
 Marion Curtis comfortable quarters for the night, 
 Kirk got up from the bench on which he had been 
 sitting and throwing on his mackinaw and cap, 
 took his whip from the wall and went out to look 
 at his dogs before turning in for the night. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later he stood again among the 
 trees by the lake and breathed deeply of the night 
 air. These were the last rare moonlit nights of 
 the winter that was now rounding into spring. By 
 the time the moon would be full again, the snow 
 would have gone and the lakes unsafe for travel. 
 
 At the sound of a footfall he turned quickly and
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 119 
 
 beheld Marion Curtis standing only a few yards 
 away, her smiling face and her superb figure dap- 
 pled in the tree-latticed light from the moon. In 
 that smile there was revealed the side of Marion's 
 nature that at once attracted Kirk and made him 
 afraid. 
 
 Unconsciously his fingers tightened their ner- 
 vous grip on the whip he held in his hand. He 
 waited in silence for her to speak waited until 
 the silence became almost unbearable. 
 
 "Do you know that you annoy me terribly," 
 she said at last. Kirk did not know whether the 
 tone was bantering or merely assertive of her own 
 self-confidence. 
 
 "I wasn't aware of the fact," Kirk replied. 
 
 "You do," she said emphatically. 
 
 "Just how?" 
 
 "Do you want to know?" 
 
 "I should never have thought of asking you if 
 I didn't." 
 
 She came towards him until she stood no more 
 than an arm's length away. For a moment she re- 
 garded him, smiling oddly where she stood with 
 the white light of the moon on her face. 
 
 "Do you know," she said slowly, "if you were- 
 n't such a boy I believe I could make something 
 really big out of you. I'd like to hold the destiny 
 of a real man in my hands. By George I 'd make 
 a man of him." 
 
 Kirk remembered suddenly that he was prob- 
 ably a couple of years older than she. Had he al-
 
 120 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 lowed himself to think of it, however, he knew that 
 her experience in a busy world had given her an 
 advantage that could scarcely be measured by 
 years. 
 
 He struggled to preserve his sense of humor. 
 
 " You'd probably want to make a fool of him 
 first," he replied. 
 
 "Is that nice?" she asked him and her voice 
 tormented him with its quiet assurance. 
 
 "Perhaps not," he replied, "but I think I'd 
 prefer making a man of myself to having someone 
 else do it for me." 
 
 She looked at him seriously a moment before she 
 spoke again. 
 
 "Two can do more in this world than one, Kirk 
 Brander," she said slowly. "You don't intend to 
 spend your whole life in a country like this ? ' ' 
 
 A week ago Kirk's reply would have been full 
 of assurance. Now, he felt a strange hesitancy in 
 committing himself. 
 
 "I like this country," he replied evasively. 
 
 * ' Huh so do I, " she laughed. ' ' But don 't you 
 see even Dags knows there is nothing here for 
 anyone with ambition nothing, I mean, to make 
 him want to spend his life here." 
 
 "Yes," Kirk responded, "I see." 
 
 "And if you're going to do anything you'll have 
 to make a beginning soon. You'll be through with 
 this work in a year. We can hand it over to some- 
 one else and you can get out into a world where 
 the opportunities are bigger. J '
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 121 
 
 There was something in the thing she was urg- 
 ing upon him that jarred horribly with what he 
 had come out into the moonlight to enjoy. He 
 wondered vaguely if she was unconscious of the 
 rare 'beauty of the night and the passion of its 
 silence. 
 
 He turned towards her and their eyes met. In 
 that moment he seemed to see into her very soul. 
 He glanced quickly towards the cabin standing 
 back among the trees. 
 
 ''Don't you think it's time we were going in!" 
 he suggested quickly. 
 
 He stepped past her and started up the path 
 towards the cabin. When he had gone a half 
 dozen steps he realized that she was still standing 
 where he had left her. He glanced back. She was 
 looking at him. 
 
 * * Come here ! ' ' she commanded. 
 
 He paused and stood with his eyes upon her. 
 
 "Come here!" she repeated. 
 
 He went back and stood beside her. She leaned 
 towards him almost imperceptibly and he placed 
 his arm about her. When their eyes met he could 
 not help noticing the slow return of the smile with 
 which she had tormented him. An angry impulse 
 seized him and he drew her forcibly to him. 
 
 The next moment she had evaded him and he 
 was standing alone under the shadows of the trees. 
 Her mocking laughter came back to him from 
 where she stood in the moonlight. Could she have 
 known what was passing in his mind her mockery
 
 122 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 would have come abruptly to an end. But she saw 
 nothing except the shadowy figure of the man she 
 had baffled. 
 
 Suddenly he stepped towards her. There was a 
 stern deliberateness in his movements and his 
 face, now clearly visible in the moonlight into 
 which he had moved, was dark with something she 
 had not seen in it before. His hand with the whip 
 in it was moving strangely as he dropped the long 
 lash and, without looking at it, stretched it out in 
 the snow with a quick, deft movement. She guessed 
 what was in his mind and when he raised his arm 
 slowly she cowered, afraid to run, her pride for- 
 bidding her to speak. Not until his arm came above 
 his head and the lash started moving as if alive 
 did she allow her voice to break from her. 
 
 "Don't don't please!" she pleaded, and 
 moved towards him slowly. 
 
 He paused with his hand upraised until she 
 came and stood trembling beside him. Then he 
 took her in his arms and as he felt her arms go up 
 about his neck and draw him down to her, he 
 crushed her fiercely to him and pressed his mouth 
 hard upon hers. 
 
 "When he drew back from her a moment later 
 there were tears in her eyes. He waited while she 
 brushed them away and then trembling and silent 
 they made their way back slowly to the cabin.
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 OLD John Allen had his friends and his ene- 
 mies. His friends insisted that he was an 
 honest man ; and all his enemies could find 
 to criticize in him was the fact that he was as stub- 
 born as the proverbial mule. Old John Mackay 
 had once numbered himself among the friends. 
 He had prospected with John Allen for two sum- 
 mers and they had spent most of one winter to- 
 gether trapping. Besides, they each had a daugh- 
 ter and sometimes when they smoked together of a 
 summer evening, after they had grown tired of 
 talking of their prospects, John Mackay had 
 spoken tenderly of his Ruth, and John Allen had 
 lingered a little over the name of his Jule. And 
 they had often dreamed together of a day when 
 the girls would come together and love each other 
 as sisters. 
 
 They had spoken only once of their wives. John 
 Mackay had said something that implied that 
 John Allen's wife was, at least, living. 
 
 The old Englishman's response had been char- 
 acteristically brief. "She's dead five years 
 ago," he said. 
 
 The old Scotchman had received the informa- 
 tion without comment. After a long silence he 
 
 123 
 (9)
 
 124 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 cpoke with at least equal brevity. "So's mine 
 eix years ago," he announced without the slightest 
 intention of being humorous, and thereafter 
 neither man ever referred to the matter of their 
 wives again. Nor did they ever discuss their res- 
 pective attitudes towards women in general. 
 
 It was a woman, however, that finally brought 
 their friendship to an end a woman, and John 
 Allen's stubbornness. They had staked claims 
 near the Lucky Strike before the existence of that 
 property had been even thought of. They had 
 heard the news of its discovery and had watched 
 the development of the mine with interest at high 
 pitch; they had noted with satisfaction the rush 
 of prospectors who came in on the mere chance 
 of striking something good in the neighborhood, 
 had clung to their own claims in the face of temp- 
 ting offers and had even bought up a few claims 
 that had been staked close to their own. Together 
 they had fought off Paxton's efforts to buy in 
 practically everything of promise in the district 
 and they were still on the ground of their ori- 
 ginal locations. 
 
 But to return to the dispute that had separated 
 the two old friends. John Allen had selected for 
 his cabin a site that had won his heart the moment 
 his eyes fell upon it. It was not until he had built 
 the best log cabin in the country, however, and had 
 gone to Saskatoon for Jule and returned with a 
 half dozen large freight canoes loaded with fur- 
 nishings and supplies for the new home, that he
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 123 
 
 became convinced that he had found the sweetest 
 corner in all the world. For a short time he was 
 happier than he had ever been in his life before. 
 He moved about leisurely in his canoe, and with his 
 almost silent partner, old John Mackay, staked 
 new claims or examined the claims that others 
 had staked. Some day, if he had only the patience 
 to wait, Jule Allen would be the daughter of a 
 rich man with the world before her. And John 
 Allen had the patience. Sometimes he showed so 
 much of it that John Mackay felt annoyed, though 
 he never spoke of it. It began to try John Mac- 
 kay 's patience, however, when old John Allen 
 started in to make a garden. Somehow or other, 
 experimenting with hardy varieties of potatoes 
 and early maturing vegetables was not in line with 
 prospecting. John Mackay watched him one even- 
 ing digging in his garden and then went off alone 
 for a stroll to the other end of the property. 
 There he found an open space where the rock was 
 exposed to the water's edge save for a thin cover- 
 ing of dry moss and a thin fringe of reeds that 
 came up out of the water a few feet from the shore. 
 Mentally he made a note of the spot. If anything 
 should happen between him and John Allen, he 
 would build a cabin for himself right there where 
 the bare rock made gardening impossible. He 
 would send for his daughter Ruth and they wonld 
 live securely and contentedly by themselves. 
 
 He had not long to wait before his fears were 
 vindicated. One day John Allen announced casu-
 
 126 PHE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 ally that he was going to have an Indian woman 
 come to the cabin to do his housework and keep 
 Jule company. There were no words between the 
 two. John Mackay was determined not to live 
 under the same roof with a woman. John Allen 
 had only to look at his old partner to know what 
 was passing in his mind. He quickly estimated 
 the value of John Mackay 's holdings and offered 
 him a price. But he had not read his partner's 
 mind clearly. For the first time in their friend- 
 ship, John Mackay *s anger got the best of him and 
 John Allen learned that his partner had not staked 
 claims merely because he wanted to sell them for 
 whatever he could get out of them. He had come 
 there because he belonged, and he would stay. 
 They divided the property between them, adjust- 
 ed their lines and named the new properties The 
 Micmac and The White Squaw. The next day 
 John Allen, feeling alone even with his daughter, 
 stood in the doorway of his cabin on The White 
 Squaw and heard the sound of John Mackay '& 
 axe at work at the far end of The Micmac. 
 
 From that time forward the two old partners 
 lived to themselves. Euth Mackay had remained 
 in school at The Pas ; Jule Allen had been permit- 
 ted to visit the little town only twice in five years. 
 One thing, however, kept the two men together in 
 spirit even if they had no more than a passing nod 
 for each other when they met. They realized the 
 difficult fight they both had to put up to defend 
 themselves against the encroachments of outsid-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 127 
 
 ers. Of these outsiders "Warren K. Paxton was 
 undoubtedly the most formidable. He had bought 
 up practically everything in sight that showed any 
 promise whatever of latent wealth and had ap- 
 proached both Allen and Mackay frequently with 
 offers for their holdings. To all his offers, how- 
 ever, they gave the same brusque reply and Pax- 
 ton had given up attempting to arrange terms 
 with them on what he considered a business basis. 
 He did not fail to use other means of bringing the 
 stubborn old prospectors to time, however, and for 
 a year he had done everything in his power to force 
 them to sell. All he got for his pains was an in- 
 creased stubbornness that was tinctured now with 
 something of hatred besides. John Mackay had 
 succeeded twice in selling an option on his prop- 
 erty to companies that had done a considerable 
 amount of drilling to test the values concealed 
 underground and had failed to take up the option 
 when they found themselves hampered by the lack 
 of capital. John Allen's property had remained 
 practically as it was the day he staked it, save for 
 the assessment work which the law required him 
 to do and a small amount of drilling which he had 
 had done by one of the companies working on 
 Mackay 's property. 
 
 From their cabins they watched the work that 
 Paxton was doing on his holdings. The Micmac 
 and The White Squaw lay together along one side 
 of a little lake and a narrow rapid creek that ran 
 into it. Paxton '& property lay along the creek
 
 128 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 on the other side and extended a short distance 
 also along the opposite shore of the lake. Eipple 
 Creek, the old partners had named the creek when 
 they put in their stakes, and Hippie Lake the low 
 lying sheltered stretch of water out of which they 
 had paddled on that quiet summer evening years 
 before after a long day's prospecting. Just above 
 the place where the creek emptied into the lake 
 ran the border line between Saskatchewan and 
 Manitoba, on the other side of which lay the bulk 
 of Paxton's holdings. 
 
 Jule Allen had loved the place from the moment 
 of her landing. She loved the cabin, the woods, 
 the hills, the lake, and the little creek. But most of 
 all she loved the falls where the clear blue water 
 of the creek gathered in a wide, quiet pool before 
 it rounded out over the rock and plunged into an- 
 other pool below, foaming, turbulent, eddying, and 
 hurried down to the peaceful level of the lake. The 
 fact that two wooden crosses on the shore just be- 
 low the falls marked the graves of two young pros- 
 pectors who had foolishly tried to run the rapids 
 in their canoe only gave an air of tragic mystery 
 to the place and the horror of the incident itself 
 soon wore off as the months passed and the stern 
 beauty of the rapids gradually cast its spell about 
 her. Hour after hour she had sat on the high rock 
 that stood above the falls, content only to watch 
 the water, limpid blue and marked with foam, and 
 to listen to the ceaseless roar of its breaking on 
 the rocks below. Each summer since her coming
 
 THE LOBSTICK TBAIL 129 
 
 she had given the falls a different name as suited 
 her fancy, but the rock she had called Eagle's 
 Head from the first day she had climbed down 
 along its ragged side to where an eagle had built 
 its nest. And without knowing it Jule Allen had 
 grown to feel that this little sheltered spot in the 
 woods, this little cabin within sound of the rushing 
 rapids, this little lake across which the sun set 
 each evening this was her home, the one corner 
 in all the world in which she belonged and in which 
 she could find happiness. Nor did her feelings 
 change as she sat evenings and listened to her 
 father as he told her of the fight he was putting up 
 to keep the place their own and of the plans he had 
 for the future. 
 
 Once, just a year ago, in answer to some strange 
 npwelling of emotion within her she had listened 
 to the words of a stranger who had told her of the 
 great world outside, a world she had almost for- 
 gotten already, and thrilled, more perhaps by the 
 wakening of her own womanhood, she had given 
 her consent to leave and to begin life anew in 
 strange surroundings. The stranger was Phil 
 Roche. Once she had got free from the spell of his 
 words, however, and had had time to think it all 
 over quietly, seated on the rock high above the 
 falls, she knew that she could not go away. Then 
 for the first time she confessed it all to her father 
 who heard her story without any show of surprise, 
 hired a couple of Indians in whom he could place 
 confidence, and sent her off to Cumberland House
 
 130 ffHE LOBSTIOK TRAIL 
 
 to meet Phil Roche and to tell him her trne mind. 
 In his own canoe, with a half-breed in the bow, he 
 accompanied her half way and making camp on a 
 little island in the lake, calmly awaited her return. 
 When, late that night, she joined him, they put 
 back again to the cabin and neither of them ever 
 .mentioned the affair again. 
 
 Jule Allen's trip to The Pas at the time of the 
 dog Derby had been made because John Allen had 
 agreed to meet Marion Curtis in town on the day 
 of the race and when the time came had found him- 
 self unable to leave the house. Jule's going was 
 her own suggestion and although she had gone 
 about with her dogs wherever she wished for three 
 winters, old John Allen found himself awaiting 
 her return with an utterly unwarranted anxiety. 
 Nearly all the second night he had lain awake ob- 
 sessed by the fear that some unnatural harm had 
 befallen her. The next day he had sent the Indian 
 woman out to the top of the hill that lay back of 
 the cabin to watch for her. Before Jule left they 
 ' had set an hour for her probable return, barring 
 accident, and as the time arrived and then passed 
 John Allen found it impossible to remain in bed. 
 Getting up he wrapped himself in a heavy blanket 
 and seated himself by the little window where he 
 could see the trail for some distance up the side 
 of the hill. At last when he saw the woman com- 
 ing through the trees he got up and went back to 
 bed again. Half an hour later Jule drove her dogs 
 up to the doorway and leaping out of the cariole
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 131 
 
 ran in and threw herself beside her father's Bed, 
 laughing as he told her his fears and giving him 
 the stray bits of news she had gathered on her 
 brief visit to town. 
 
 Concerning her meeting with Marion Curtis 
 she had little to say beyond the fact that she had 
 informed her of John Allen 's inability to fulfil his 
 promise to meet her in town. But in Jule Allen's 
 heart there was much that she might have said, for 
 Marion Curtis had affected her strangely. There 
 was much about the woman that appealed very 
 strongly to Jule. Her beauty, her dress, her man- 
 ner of talking had won her admiration. And yet 
 a hidden instinct had made her almost dislike her. 
 They were of two different worlds, Jule Allen had 
 felt that from the moment of their first meeting, 
 and with little or nothing in common save their 
 sex and the natural instincts that go with it, they 
 could never meet on grounds of intimacy. Jule 
 admired Marion Curtis in a purely objective, im- 
 personal way, but was at the same time repelled 
 by the utter complexity of her personality. All 
 the way home she had puzzled over it and that 
 night, blissfully content again in the security of 
 her own bed, she lay awake thinking of her. 
 
 Early the next afternoon Paxton and Phil 
 Eoche arrived unannounced before John Allen's 
 cabin. Jule was out at the time and learned of the 
 presence of the visitors from the Indian woman 
 who came out to find her. When Jule entered the 
 cabin she sensed something unpleasant at once.
 
 132 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 The fact that Phil Koche was there caused her no 
 discomfort, whatever, but Paxton's presence made 
 her feel uneasy. She could not help the feeling of 
 pity that seized her at the sight of her father sit- 
 ting up in bed, his face white and troubled, listen- 
 ing to the unruffled talk of Warren Paxton. Even 
 with her own lack of experience in the world out- 
 side, she instinctively felt something of the un- 
 equal nature of the fight which these men were 
 carrying on. Now as she listened to their talking 
 she grew almost to hate the sound of Paxton's 
 voice, though as yet there had been no mention 
 made of the purpose of his visit. She glanced only 
 once or twice at Phil Eoche but it was sufficient to 
 convince her that he was rather enjoying the very 
 thing that was giving her pain. And in that mo- 
 ment she hated him with all her heart. 
 
 Suddenly there was a flurry without and Jule 
 went to the door. Her surprise at seeing Marion 
 Curtis was nothing to the surprise that Paxton 
 experienced on hearing the sound of her voice. 
 
 When Marion entered the cabin a moment later 
 with Kirk Brander, Paxton got up and looked at 
 her with his thin smile covering the bitterest mood 
 he had known for months. For once he was genu- 
 inely angry at Marion Curtis and craved, above 
 everything in the world, an opportunity to tell 
 her what he thought. But her jaunty manner and 
 her self-assurance threw him immediately upon a 
 desperate defensive in which he realized that all 
 his self-control would be necessary if he was not
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 133 
 
 to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the 
 others. Marion's sudden and unexpected arrival 
 brought matters quickly to a head. After the 
 necessary introductions had been disposed of in 
 an atmosphere in which Marion alone seemed to be 
 in cool possession of her full powers, there fol- 
 lowed a brief silence while John Allen looked from 
 one to another of his visitors and tried to read in 
 their faces the significance of their unannounced 
 visit. 
 
 "We might as well get to business at once," 
 Paxton finally suggested, and his voice had taken 
 on its accustomed brusqueness. "I've come out 
 to make you another offer on this property, John 
 Allen, and I'm willing to meet you on your own 
 terms if you're willing to talk business." 
 
 Marion Curtis was quick to take advantage of 
 Paxton 's pause. ' ' And I 've come out prepared to 
 bid a little higher than anything Mr. Paxton will 
 offer you, ' ' she replied. 
 
 "You are making a wild statement, Mrs. Cur- 
 tis," Paxton observed with an effort to remain 
 cool. 
 
 "I don't think so, Mr. Paxton," she replied. "If 
 I am I'm willing for once in my life to back up 
 any wild statement I make. But I know pretty 
 well what you are going to offer Mr. Allen, and I 
 know I can better it. There shouldn't be much 
 wildness about that." 
 
 Paxton grunted and turned expectantly to John 
 Allen. Marion Curtis allowed her eyes to rest a
 
 134 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 moment on Paxton and then turned with a smile to 
 look at the white face of the old prospector. From 
 where she sat back from the group Jule Allen 
 could see her father 's face clearly. With the main 
 facts of the case before him, John Allen was more 
 like himself again. The sudden descent of four 
 visitors had seemed so mysterious at first that he 
 was troubled to know what new move he was going 
 to be called upon to check. But here was a simple 
 situation, after all, where two people with money 
 had come to bid against each other for the posses- 
 sion of his property. The troubled look faded 
 gradually from his face. He lifted himself to a 
 more erect position and cleared his voice. Then 
 he hesitated and Jule's heart warmed as she 
 watched her -father's face grow dark with the 
 spirit of the fighter that rose within him. She had 
 feared for her father while he was perplexed. 
 Now that he was growing angry her fear left her 
 suddenly and in its place there came something 
 that was almost rejoicing. 
 
 "Paxton," John Allen said at last, and his voice 
 was cold and very direct, "for three years I have 
 tried to get a square deal from you. At one time 
 I would have sold out to you at a decent figure 
 half, maybe, of what you are ready to offer to me 
 now. For three years I peddled my holdings with- 
 out finding a man with faith enough in this coun- 
 try to put a dollar into it. When I went to yon 
 last year and showed you what the drill had un- 
 covered you offered me just about as much as I'd
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 135 
 
 offer yon for a piece of ground to make a back 
 yard. "When I told yon what I thonght of yonr 
 offer yon told me to come back when I changed my 
 mind." 
 
 Paxton moved nneasily. * ' That was only a way 
 of doing business, John," he said in an effort to 
 calm the old man's rising anger. 
 
 "Yonr way, Paxton ! " John Allen almost shout- 
 ed the words. * ' It isn 't my way it never was my 
 way. I told yon then that I'd never come back 
 and I never have. I never intend to." 
 
 His face was tight-drawn now and his hand 
 trembled as he spoke. 
 
 "It's your way of doing business that has made 
 me lose all the faith I ever had in men of your 
 type. They all do business in the same way. And 
 you couldn't buy The "White Squaw to-day if yon 
 had a cheque with yon for a half million dollars !" 
 
 He turned and looked at Marion Curtis. 
 
 "I don't know how yon do business, Mrs. Cur- 
 tis," he said, a little more quietly. "Some day I 
 might talk to you I don't know. Just now I've 
 made my own plans and I'm going to carry them 
 out." 
 
 "I'm not here to buy unless yon want to sell," 
 she replied frankly. * ' Mr. Paxton knows, and yon 
 may as well know, that I am here to see that he 
 doesn't get The "White Squaw. I shall be perfectly 
 satisfied to see yon carry out your own plans pro- 
 vided, in the end, yon do not find it necessary to
 
 136 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 surrender to the interests we are competing 
 against. ' ' 
 
 "I shall look to that, Mrs. Curtis," John Allen 
 replied. "The fact is I found the property my- 
 self I intend to work it myself." 
 
 There was a murmur of protest from both Pax- 
 ton and Marion Curtis. 
 
 "I know what it means," he hurried to explain. 
 "It'll take money it'll take energy it'll take 
 time. I've got enough money to start on and I'll 
 go as far as it will take me. I've got faith in the 
 country and I have confidence in its future, and, 
 anyhow, I 'm going to live the rest of my days here 
 no matter what happens. My roots have gone 
 down and I can't leave. When I've spent my 
 money, perhaps you'll see better what I have here 
 and then maybe you'll come to me. If I can't 
 show anything the loss will be mine. And whose 
 should it be?" 
 
 From behind Marion Curtis, Kirk Brander 
 looked steadily at John Allen's face. There was 
 much in the old man's eyes and in the lines about 
 his mouth that was deeply pathetic. There was 
 even more of it in his voice. There was energy, 
 even determination there; one might even hope 
 that John Allen would live for years yet and see 
 the day when men of Paxton's type would come 
 to him merely on the basis of good business and 
 meet him on terms of equality. And yet Kirk 
 could not help feeling regret that the old prospec- 
 tor's later years should be spent in a conflict with
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 137 
 
 men of such ruthless methods as Paxton would 
 unhesitatingly employ to serve his own ends. Ul- 
 timately, Kirk knew, John Allen would have to 
 come to terms with the world. It was a pity that 
 he should spend what was left to him of life in a 
 futile struggle against hopeless odds. 
 
 Warren Paxton 's previous dealings with John 
 Allen had 'been enough to convince him on this 
 occasion that there was nothing more to be said 
 on the subject. He looked round at Roche and 
 the latter moved towards the door. 
 
 "I'm going to warn you, John," Paxton said 
 as he got up from his chair, "that you're going to 
 play this fool game just a day too long." 
 
 "Well, it's my game and I'm going to play it 
 my way from now on," John Allen replied. 
 
 "And I'll say the same thing to you, Marion 
 Curtis," Paxton replied, turning to look at her 
 where she was still sitting near Kirk Brander. 
 
 "Mr. Allen's answer is my answer, too," she 
 replied. 
 
 Paxton sniffed a little impatiently as he strode 
 towards the door. He seemed on the point of say- 
 ing something, looked quickly at Kirk, and then, 
 opening the door passed out followed 'by Phil 
 Roche. 
 
 Kirk left Marion Curtis abruptly and went out. 
 He found Paxton standing alone before the door- 
 way. Phil Roche had gone off a short distance to 
 where his dogs were lying curled up in the snow 
 under the trees,
 
 138 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL. 
 
 "And I've got someone who will watch yon, 
 young man/* Paxton said as if he were simply 
 continuing the conversation. 
 
 "I haven't had any trouble lately in looking af- 
 ter myself, " Kirk replied. 
 
 "Well, your trouble's starting." 
 
 He left Kirk and walked quickly to where Roche 
 was standing beside his team. Kirk's eyes were 
 upon Roche but between them there had arisen 
 eince the day of the race a feeling that awaited 
 only the proper time and place to give itself ex- 
 pression. Perhaps Roche felt much as Kirk felt, 
 that when they came to settle their score the issue 
 would be their own, and for that settlement they 
 needed* no audience. He stood watching Paxton 
 and Roche until they had crossed the creek and 
 disappeared among the trees on the other side. 
 Then he turned and went back into the cabin. 
 
 As he closed the door behind him he noticed that 
 Jule had come out of the corner where she had 
 been sitting and was standing now beside Marion 
 Curtis. And for a moment as he looked at them 
 he could not help recognizing the sharp contrast 
 which the two made. Jule was young with a youth 
 that would never grow old. There was warm life 
 in her dark hair and eyes, her rounded cheeks and 
 full lips, and in her young body the easy pose of 
 one whose heart has expanded in quiet places. 
 Hers was the pride of clean blood and simple 
 hopes. Marion Curtis, whose pride was disdain, 
 had come out of a life that had once been his, a
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 139 
 
 life that he tad left because it had begun to stifle 
 him. Jule Allen was in her natural setting here 
 in this simple place where Marion Curtis was an 
 intruder. 
 
 And for the first time it occurred to Kirk Bran- 
 der that perhaps Jule Allen might look upon him 
 also as an intruder and he found the thought 
 strangely disquieting.
 
 CHAPTEE 
 
 THAT night Marion Curtis accepted the hos- 
 pitality of Jule Allen while Kirk took his 
 way through the woods to old John Mac- 
 kay's cabin. On the other side of Eipple Creek, 
 Eoche and Paxton made themselves comfortable 
 in one of the cabins the latter had built on his 
 property the previous summer. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before Kirk turned out the 
 next morning, helped himself liberally to John 
 Mackay's store of provisions, and conscious that 
 Marion Curtis would probably be in no great 
 hurry to leave the comfortable quarters in John 
 Allen's cabin, struck out alone to get his first look 
 at the property, the development of which he was 
 to supervise during the coming months. From the 
 cabin he took his way along the shore of the lake 
 for a short distance and then turning abruptly 
 away from the lake climbed the hill that sloped 
 gradually upwards from the shore. In a few 
 minutes he stood on the crest of the hill where he 
 commanded a view, not only of the property itself 
 with its half dozen deserted cabins huddled to- 
 gether beside the little lake, but of the whole dis- 
 trict with hills shouldering up from the lake shore 
 and covered over with thick growths of spruce. 
 
 140
 
 THE LOBSTICK TEAIL 141 
 
 Here and there where the hills had been swept by 
 fire, white expanses of snow shone in the bright 
 sunlight. The lake itself with its little bays and 
 tree-clad islands held promise of hidden beauties 
 that awaited only the coming of summer to unveil 
 them to the eye. 
 
 But sensitive as Kirk was to the natural beauty 
 of the place his imagination was at work on an- 
 other picture. He saw the hillside just below him 
 quicken into life and activity ; he saw the trees fall 
 back and in their places come houses and streets 
 with people walking about in busy pursuits; h& 
 heard the hum of a great town at work, the cease- 
 less grind of its wheels, the constant rush of its 
 traffic. And he saw himself there, something more 
 than a mere part of it, the embodiment rather of 
 its creative spirit, the inspiration of its enterprise. 
 
 Suddenly from somewhere quite close, it seemed 
 only a few yards away, there came the confused 
 sound of dogs fighting and a girl's voice breaking 
 through with sharp commands. Turning and look- 
 ing off down the hill he saw the dogs tumbling 
 about in the snow near the edge of a clear space 
 on the hillside. Close by stood Jule Allen doing 
 her best to drive them apart but with little success. 
 In a moment Kirk was off down the hill and round- 
 ing a little clump of underbrush came suddenly 
 into the open where he had a full view of the fight. 
 Jule Allen, whip in hand, was doing her best to 
 part the dogs, one of them her own and the other 
 a dog from Kirk's own team that had somehow
 
 142 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 strayed away from the others. Jule's dog had 
 been hitched to a small toboggan but one of the 
 traces had broken during the fight and dangled at 
 his side. 
 
 Stepping in quickly Kirk seized the whip from 
 Jule's hand and pushing her aside seized the col- 
 lar of her dog and throwing him back suddenly 
 struck his own dog sharply on the nose with the 
 butt of the whip. The effect was immediate and 
 Kirk, still gripping the leather collar in one hand, 
 turned to Jule who stood close behind him. 
 
 "Snap!" she cried as the dog growled and 
 struggled to get free from the grip that Kirk held. 
 
 "He doesn't seem to know when he's had 
 enough," Kirk remarked, handing her the whip. 
 
 She moved quickly toward the dog's head and 
 without paying the slightest attention to Kirk's 
 words, raised her whip and spoke again sharply 
 to the dog. Dropping close to the snow the dog 
 slunk towards her whining. 
 
 For a moment Kirk looked at the girl, radiant 
 in her fresh young beauty, her eyes full of danc- 
 ing fires as she spoke to the dog. Then he looked 
 at the dog. He started suddenly. 
 
 "Where where did that dog come from?" he 
 asked abruptly. 
 
 Jule Allen straightened and looked at him 
 sharply. 
 
 "Have you not been long enough in this part of 
 the world, Kirk Brander," she said, "to know bet- 
 ter than to ask questions like that!"
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 143 
 
 But Kirk refused to retreat before her refouke. 
 The fires in her eyes danced angrily but he scarce- 
 ly noticed them. 
 
 "I did know better, Jule Allen, " he replied seri- 
 ously and he returned her look steadily as he 
 spoke. "The fact is I asked because I wanted to 
 know. I'll not bother you about it again but 
 I'm going to find out just the same. That much, 
 at least, is permissible even in this part of the 
 world. " 
 
 She did not reply and he watched her in silence 
 as she pushed the dog into place before the tobog- 
 gan and with one knee on the snow set about mend- 
 ing the broken trace with a bit of string she drew 
 from her pocket. He could not help feeling regret 
 at the unfortunate turn their meeting had taken. 
 There was so much that was attractive in the girl, 
 so much beauty in face and figure, so much music 
 in her voice, and so much spirit in her self-asser- 
 tion that he forgot for the moment the impulse 
 that had moved him to ask a forbidden question. 
 
 Without speaking he knelt beside her and tak- 
 ing the broken trace from her, drew his knife from 
 his pocket and proceeded to splice the broken ends. 
 She did not offer any resistance nor did she speak 
 a word of protest. She acted, rather, as if she was 
 unaware of his presence. And Kirk worked in 
 silence, allowing his eyes to move frequently along 
 the dog's shaggy sides and neck. Twice he looked 
 closely at the dark face with its email, deep-set 
 eyes. Once when the girl lowered her head and
 
 144 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 turned away Kirk ran his hand quickly over the 
 dog's neck and turning one of the ears back, look- 
 ed at it for a moment. As he did so Jule raised 
 her eyes and he turned again quickly to the broken 
 trace. 
 
 When the necessary repairs had been completed 
 Kirk got up and stood back a little from the dog, 
 his eyes fixed upon the dog's head and face. 
 
 "I didn't mean to be offensive," he said, "but 
 I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. It mil 
 avoid misunderstandings in the future. I know 
 your dog and I know where he came from. I 
 don't know just how you got him but I'm going to 
 take the trouble to find out, because it really means 
 something to me." 
 
 But Jule Allen was already leading her dog 
 across the clear space in the direction of a narrow 
 trail that led among the trees and down the hill- 
 side towards the lake. 
 
 Suddenly it came to Kirk's mind to put his sus- 
 picions to the test. He raised his voice quickly. 
 
 "Darkie! Darkie !" he called. 
 
 The dog stopped in his tracks and turned his 
 dark face towards Kirk. His ears were pricked 
 sharply and he stood as if awaiting the sound of 
 the voice again. But Kirk did not speak. 
 
 "Snap!" cried Jule Allen, and the dog headed 
 again into the narrow trail. 
 
 Kirk stood and watched them until they van- 
 ished from sight among the trees. And as he stood 
 alone his mind wandered back to the morning he
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 145 
 
 had found poor old Wally Lamonte sitting upright 
 in the snow, his dogs gone and his face eaten away 
 not by his own huskies, he knew now, but by 
 wolves.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AFTER going over the property hurriedly 
 Kirk returned to John Allen's cabin where 
 Marion Curtis impatiently awaited his 
 coming. When she had heard a brief report on 
 what he had seen she suggested their going at 
 once to The Lucky Strike and looking over the 
 equipment. He got his dogs into their harness im- 
 mediately and after a hurried lunch served at the 
 hands of Jule Allen herself the two left the cabin 
 and arrived at The Lucky Strike shortly after the 
 noon hour. Only three miles separated the two 
 properties and for the greater part of the distance 
 the trail followed the shore of a lake and the 
 crooked course of a narrow creek. For the re- 
 mainder of the distance it ran up the steep hill 
 that lay back of The Micmac and then along the 
 crest to a point directly above the camp where it 
 dropped suddenly down towards the lake. When 
 they had gone hurriedly over the equipment they 
 took the trail back again, going more slowly this 
 time and, with their task in mind, carefully estim- 
 ating the amount of work that would be necessary 
 to put the road in shape. 
 
 They were both utterly weary that night when 
 they entered John Allen 's cabin and begged a sec- 
 
 146
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 147 
 
 ond night's hospitality for Marion. But with all 
 their weariness they were happy in the conviction 
 that, although they could not expect more than two 
 weeks more before the warm weather should make 
 the ice on the lakes and rivers unsafe for travel, 
 they believed the equipment could be moved and 
 put in place on the Micmac before the break-up. 
 They sat late into the night discussing their plans 
 and John Allen himself entered heartily into the 
 conversation, giving them the benefit of his experi- 
 ence. And yet, for all the freedom with which he 
 offered suggestions, there was something re- 
 strained, almost disinterested in his manner. It 
 was quite evident that he looked upon them much 
 as he did upon Paxton. To him they were all out- 
 siders, all intruders. As for Jule Allen, Kirk was 
 at a loss to know how he should interpret her at- 
 titude. There was nothing shy in her manner and 
 no unnatural restraint. There was nothing, even, 
 to indicate that she was the girl whom he had met 
 that morning on the hillside. She preserved an 
 unruffled calm that was almost haughtily indif- 
 ferent but behind it Kirk felt there was a curbed 
 passion that was ready to break loose, awaiting 
 only the occasion. He became aware suddenly 
 that it was going to be hard to live all summer here 
 and be on bad terms with his nearest neighbor. 
 
 The next morning Marion Curtis left with Jule 
 Allen who was taking her out as far as Dags' 
 cabin. They would reach there by noon and Dags 
 would take Marion on to The Pas, allowing Jule
 
 148 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 to return the same evening. During the past two 
 days Marion and Kirk had been so busy with the 
 solution of the practical problems that attended 
 their new venture that their relations had been 
 wholly impersonal. Not once had either of them 
 referred to the episode of the night under the trees 
 by the lake. And when the moment came for 
 Marion Curtis to leave there was nothing in her 
 manner, except in the silent pressure of her hand, 
 that conveyed any hint whatever that she remem- 
 bered. But in the moment while she lingered, her 
 hand clasped firmly in his, Kirk called himself 
 suddenly to account. He glanced quickly at Jule 
 Allen who stood waiting some distance away, then 
 looked steadily into Marion's eyes. 
 
 "We have had a very pleasant as well as very 
 busy time of it," he said slowly. "I regret just 
 one thing." 
 
 "And that?" she asked. 
 
 "That I forgot myself." 
 
 Her face was very serious for a moment. *'I 
 don't want you to regret it," she replied and 
 pressed his hand firmly again before she turned 
 away. 
 
 Kirk watched them until they had passed from 
 sight. Then he went to work. 
 
 For two weeks he strove practically night and 
 day to accomplish the task that Marion Curtis 
 had set. Dags had returned at the end of a week 
 with a dozen men and a couple of teams of horses 
 to assist in moving the equipment. A lucky drop
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 149 
 
 in the temperature gave them a few days more 
 than they had expected and ultimately proved to 
 be the deciding factor in their undertaking. 
 
 "Thank God for those three cold days, Dagsie," 
 Kirk commented when the work was completed. 
 "We'd never have done it if the break-up had 
 come on time. ' ' 
 
 "Thank God if you like," Dags muttered, "and 
 if you have any influence there get an option on 
 His services for at least six months. You're goin* 
 to need Him bad." 
 
 And Dags spoke more truly than he knew. Pax- 
 ton was content to allow Kirk to go ahead without 
 obstructing him in any way. In the first place he 
 had very little confidence in Kirk's ability to get 
 the materials moved and ready to be put in place 
 before the winter broke up. With his eye on the 
 weather he cursed the three days that gave Kirk 
 cause for rejoicing. But his plans were founded 
 upon something deeper and more substantial than 
 the accidents of weather. Day after day he spent 
 in quiet conference with his banker and his law- 
 yer. Twice he made hurried trips to Winnipeg 
 and lunched with men of political influence, or 
 called his clients together while they discussed 
 the most effective means of obstructing Henry 
 Tyne 's efforts. And on each occasion he returned 
 to The Pas beaming with confidence. Generally 
 speaking, things were going very well for Warren 
 K. Paxton. 
 
 For two weeks the prospect of a railway being
 
 150 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 built from The Pas to the mines had occupied his 
 attention almost to the exclusion of everything 
 else. Taking his cue from conversations he had 
 had privately with railroad officials and others, 
 he had sketched roughly the route which the road 
 would probably take. Through a country that was 
 -a veritable network of rivers and lakes the prob- 
 lem of building a railway became largely one of 
 avoiding bodies of water too large to cross. A few 
 minutes' study of the map that hung in Paxton's 
 office made it clear that whatever the exact route 
 of the new railway would be, at one point, at least, 
 there would be no choice of route. Between the 
 Burntwood system of waterways sloping towards 
 the north and the Saskatchewan system draining 
 towards the south there lay, at one point, only a 
 narrow strip of dry ground, scarcely more than a 
 mile in width. To the north of the portage lay 
 Cranberry Lake and to the south Lake Athapa- 
 puskow ; the railway would have to follow the nar- 
 row height of land between them. Whether that 
 narrow gateway to the mines should be opened or 
 closed depended now upon Paxton's wishes in the 
 matter. The ground was his and he would have 
 to be sought out and bargained with before any 
 right-of-way privileges were granted. The deeds 
 showing the transfer of the claims covering the 
 height of land were even now secure in the tight 
 little safe that occupied one corner of his office. 
 All he had to do was wait. In fact Paxton believed 
 in waiting for anything he wanted. He prided
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 151 
 
 himself on having a little more endurance than 
 most men; his experience in the business world 
 had gone far towards justifying the pride he felt. 
 
 Paxton sat with his feet perched on one corner 
 of his desk and looked from his office window. 
 Fully a month had passed since the visit of Marion 
 Curtis and now, with the spring opening and the 
 summer before him, he was calculating to himself 
 just how long it would take for old Henry Tyne 
 to reach the end of his resources and accept de- 
 feat. He knew what the extent of those resources 
 was. He had worked out to his own satisfaction 
 just how far they would go. He was satisfied that 
 long before the end of September, the date that 
 marked the expiration of Tyne's option on the 
 Micmac, more capital would be needed or the de- 
 velopment of the property would have to cease. 
 And he knew, moreover, that Tyne's only hope of 
 raising more capital lay in the development of the 
 property itself during the next three months. If 
 the tests they were to make showed rich bodies of 
 ore, Tyne would have little difficulty. If the mine 
 yielded ore of only a fair grade, the Micmac would 
 have another failure to its credit. Everything, 
 therefore, depended upon the energy with which 
 Henry Tyne pushed his development work. 
 
 As for John Allen, he was beaten before he 
 started. The only thing Paxton feared was how 
 the old fellow would dispose of the White Squaw 
 after all his money had been spent. But that 
 mattered very little, after all, so long as Henry
 
 152 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Tyne was forced to quit the game. John Allen, 
 spiteful old fool though he was, had more sense 
 than to attempt doing business with Henry Tyne 
 until the latter had proven his ability to go ahead 
 with the task he had undertaken. 
 
 The community, generally speaking, did not like 
 Henry Tyne. Paxton had seen to that. Even 
 their liking for Kirk Brander had paled somewhat 
 because of his friendship for the fur-thief, Tuck 
 Koberts. And Paxton had lost no opportunity to 
 play upon the sentiment. Just now, as he sat look- 
 ing from his window, he was awaiting the final 
 word on Tuck's case. Tuck had asked for a speedy 
 trial and the judge had taken an extra day to con- 
 sider the evidence. Paxton had capitalized Tuck 's 
 misfortune and earnestly prayed for a conviction. 
 His only fear was that Kirk Brander might come 
 upon the scene before the case was settled and in- 
 troduce an element of delay. But the few days 
 of cold weather that had meant much to Kirk 
 in his work at the mines had also delayed his 
 coming to The Pas. 
 
 From where Paxton sat he could see the gleam 
 of the water in the flats where the Saskatchewan 
 had overflowed. The river was clear of ice except 
 along its shores where the great blocks had been 
 pushed up into white, glistening heaps that lay 
 melting in the warm sun. Paxton knew that Kirk 
 Brander would be on the ground in a couple of 
 days at most.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 153 
 
 "Let him come we're all set," he said to him- 
 self. 
 
 And yet he knew what Kirk's coming would 
 mean, and he could not help feeling the suspense a 
 little. 
 
 The outside door opened and he swung round 
 in his chair to meet Phil Roche who was entering 
 with Joe Bedard. The expression on Phil's face 
 caused Paxton to sit up suddenly and take his pipe 
 from his mouth. 
 
 "Any news?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 "It's all over," Roche announced coldly. 
 "They let him off." 
 
 "Hell!" Paxton exploded. "Let him off!" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 Roche nodded his head slowly and began to roll 
 a cigarette. 
 
 "On that evidence?" Paxton mused. 
 
 "The girl did it. She's some little witness, I'll 
 say, ' ' Roche continued, half to himself. " If I ever 
 get in wrong with Canadian law, God send me 
 along a girl that '11 love me enough to look a judge 
 in the eye and produce an alibi that would do 
 credit to Judas Iscariot." 
 
 For a long time Paxton sat without speaking. 
 Then he got up and walked to the other side of the 
 office. 
 
 "Were there many out to hear the decision?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "The room was full." 
 
 "How'd they take it?"
 
 154 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Roche shrugged his shoulders. "Just took it 
 that 's all. They know Tuck Roberts stole the furs. 
 The judge knows it, if he 'd just come down to it. ' ' 
 
 "What do you mean the judge knows it?" 
 Paxton asked, and he stopped on his way to the 
 window to look at Roche. 
 
 "He said he couldn't convict the prisoner on the 
 evidence but everybody who heard it knows what 
 he thinks about it himself." 
 
 "Let's go up and see Cavanagh," Paxton said 
 suddenly taking his coat and leading the way to 
 the door. 
 
 Five minutes later they were in Cavanagh *s 
 office. Paxton and Roche took chairs facing Ca- 
 vanagh while Joe Bedard who had come along at 
 Roche 's suggestion stood by the door, cap in hand, 
 looking a little uncomfortable and out of place in 
 the constable's office. 
 
 Paxton threw his coat open brusquely and laid 
 his hand heavily on the desk in front of Cavanagh. 
 
 "What's wrong with law and authority in this 
 place, Cavanagh?" he asked bluntly. 
 
 Cavanagh 's face bore an expression of mingled 
 disappointment and humor. 
 
 "I'd like to have someone answer the same 
 question for me," he said, smiling. 
 
 "I thought you had the evidence to convict this 
 man," Paxton continued. 
 
 Cavanagh turned in his chair and looked from 
 his window. 
 
 "I can't raider stand why you seem to be so
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 155 
 
 anxious to have Tuck Boberts sent down/' lie 
 remarked drily. 
 
 Paxton drew an impatient breath. 
 
 "Tuck Boberts is no concern of mine," he snap- 
 ped. "It would be all the the same to me whether 
 it was Tuck Boberts or Phil Boche. But the se- 
 curity of property and the rights of citizens in this 
 community is my concern. And when a thief is at 
 large in the community it is my concern." 
 
 "It's always better to prove that a man is a 
 thief before you call him one," Cavanagh re- 
 marked casually. 
 
 "Didn't you have the proof?" 
 
 "I thought so never was more sure of it in my 
 life, in fact." 
 
 "What's the matter, then?" 
 
 Cavanagh smiled. "The judge didn't think so." 
 
 "Does he think Boberts is innocent?" 
 
 Cavanagh turned to Paxton and looked at him 
 for a moment without speaking. 
 
 "It would be easy to speak unwisely, Paxton," 
 he said, carefully measuring his words as he spoke. 
 "I am going to take you a little into my confidence 
 knowing you won't make any wrong use of what 
 I tell you. Boberts stole those furs everybody 
 knows it. You can't convict a man because you 
 think he's guilty. The evidence must show it. I 
 thought the evidence was sound enough and it 
 was until Buth Mackay took a hand in it." 
 
 "There's something radically wrong with the 
 
 system or a girl's evidence wouldn't tnrn a man 
 (ii)
 
 156 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 loose on the country when everyone knows he's a 
 
 thief." 
 
 Cavanagh didn't show any resentment at Pax- 
 ton's remark. He turned about again in his chair 
 and looked out the window. 
 
 "The system is about as good as we can make 
 it, Paxton," he remarked quietly. "We're just 
 human beings, after -all. If you think someone 
 else could do the work here better than I am doing 
 it, there is a way to go about getting a change 
 and I won't block you. But while I 'm in this office 
 I'm going to take my orders from higher up." 
 
 Phil Roche had sat without speaking through- 
 out the conversation between Paxton and Cav- 
 anagh. Once or twice he dropped a quiet word to 
 Joe Bedard who stood satisfying a morbid curi- 
 osity by examining a group of small posters on the 
 wall. The fact of so many criminals being at large 
 in spite of the rewards which were offered for 
 their capture held a new fascination for Joe and 
 he laboriously spelled out what he could of the 
 descriptive details and scrutinized the portraits 
 as closely as if he had been looking for a lost 
 brother. 
 
 Paxton got up from his chair, drew his coat 
 about him and turned towards the door. 
 
 "No one wants you out, Cavanagh," he said in 
 an effort to end the conversation pleasantly. "But 
 it does get under a man's hide a bit when the 
 authorities slip a cog. It gives private citizens 
 just that much more to lie awake over and God
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 157 
 
 knows we have enough to think about these days." 
 
 Cavanagh remained seated. Phil Roche stepped 
 for a moment to the side of Joe Bedard, where the 
 two began talking quietly in undertones while 
 Paxton and Cavanagh were bringing their dis- 
 cussion to a close. 
 
 "As for that," Cavanagh was saying, "it might 
 be better not only for Tuck Roberts but for some 
 of his friends as well if he had been sent down for 
 ten years. He 's going to be under suspicion from 
 this time on and we're going to watch him." 
 
 "And his friends!" Paxton suggested. 
 
 ""Well, when a man is under suspicion his 
 friends naturally come in for their share of it." 
 
 Neither of them saw Joe Bedard put his finger 
 on one of the pictures on the wall and smile darkly 
 as he drew Phil Roche's attention to it. They 
 were too intent upon their own conversation to 
 notice the question in Phil's face as he looked 
 closely at the picture and then at Joe's face. 
 
 Joe Bedard did not turn his eyes to Phil. His 
 face wore still the dark slow smile and he grunted 
 rather than spoke the words that were the answer 
 to Phil Roche's questioning look "That's Tuck." 
 
 Phil stepped back and then looked more closely 
 at the picture. Only after he had studied it for a 
 full minute did the features begin to take on some- 
 thing familiar. He was on the point of speaking 
 to Cavanagh hut his own uncertainty made him 
 hesitate. The next moment Paxton was bidding
 
 158 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Cavanagh good-bye and the three left the office 
 and went into the street. 
 
 " We've got these fellows where we want them, 
 Phil," Paxton said as they walked down the street 
 together. "I'm glad Roberts wasn't sent down. 
 He'll be a good man to keep ronnd. Brander'll 
 wish he could send Roberts down himself to get 
 Tiim out of the way. They're discredited here right 
 now and we'll keep 'em there!" 
 
 He stmck his fist into his hand to emphasize his 
 point. Roche's mind was so busy with a new in- 
 terest, however, that he scarcely heard Paxton 's 
 -words. He was impatient to be alone with Joe 
 Bedard for a few moments in order to question the 
 half-breed and search his convictions. 
 
 Ten minutes later they left Paxton and Roche 
 came at once to the question that was in his mind. 
 
 "Do you think that's Tuck's picture, Joe?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Joe Bedard merely smiled in reply. 
 
 Roche grew suddenly impatient with the half- 
 breed's non-communicative manner. "Hell, man, 
 what makes you think so ? " he snapped. 
 
 "Huh!" Joe grunted, the smile never leaving 
 his face. "I know." 
 
 For a minute or so Roche did not speak. Then 
 he laid a hand on Joe Bedard 's arm. 
 
 "Keep this dark, Joe," he warned. 
 
 "Huh!" the half-breed grunted, smiling stilL
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 LATE in the evening of the third day follow- 
 ing Paxton's conversation with Cavanagh, 
 Kirk Brander arrived in his canoe with old 
 man Bags. For Paxton the three days had been 
 filled with effort that gave promise of glorious 
 success. Already Tuck Eoberts was practically 
 outlawed in the community and public opinion 
 with regard to Kirk Brander was simply awaiting 
 his coming and some announcement of his position 
 before it should crystallize either in his favor or 
 against him. In fact Kirk's fate at the hands of 
 the community gossips had practically been set- 
 tled already and for two reasons. In the first 
 place it was generally conceded that he would 
 stand by Tuck Eoberts. He was that kind of a 
 man. In addition to that fact, Paxton had made 
 use of every moment of those three days to dis- 
 credit not only Kirk Brander himself, the bosom 
 friend of a fur-thief, but Henry Tyne and Marion 
 Curtis who were unknown except for their re- 
 ported connection with the new development of the 
 Micmac. Two companies having already failed in 
 their attempts to make the big mine pay, there was 
 a general feeling that another such failure would 
 have a disastrous effect upon the whole district. 
 
 159
 
 160 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 'And Paxton spared no pains to make it clear that 
 a third failure was precisely what they might all 
 look forward to if Henry Tyne should go on with 
 the work. 
 
 It was, consequently, a very different town that 
 Kirk Brander came back to after his absence of 
 about a month. He sensed the difference first 
 when, within fifteen minutes after his arrival with 
 Dags, he entered Wu Long's place in search of 
 something to eat. It was already quite dark and 
 he had come down the street without having been 
 noticed by anyone. "When he threw open the door 
 of the Northern Lights and stepped into the room 
 he saw several of his friends and called out a 
 general greeting. 
 
 "Howdy!" he sang out as he stood and glanced 
 round the room. 
 
 'A half dozen games of cards were in progress 
 and three or four small groups stood about or 
 lounged round on chairs tilted back against the 
 wall. There was a general stir at the sound of his 
 voice and he shook hands with two or three who 
 etood nearest the door. Wu Long was there with 
 his smile and hobbled across to exchange greet- 
 ings with Kirk, after which he hurried away to fill 
 the order Kirk gave him for himself and Dags. 
 
 It was not until they had got well under way 
 with their meal that Kirk found time to inquire 
 concerning Tuck Koberts. He was about to ask 
 the news of some who were sitting at a game of 
 cards round the table immediately 'behind him,
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 161 
 
 font even as he was on the point of framing the 
 question a strange feeling came over him. He 
 realized in a vague, indefinite way that these men 
 whom he had counted among his friends were dif- 
 ferent from the friends of a month or so before. 
 They had done nothing, had said nothing to make 
 him uncomfortable and yet he was uncomfort- 
 able just the same. There had been a certain re- 
 straint in their manner, they showed it even now 
 in the apparent lack of enthusiasm for the games 
 they were playing. And Kirk, with his question in 
 mind, wondered if by any possible chance Tuck 
 Roberts had been sent down and they were keep- 
 ing the news from him, knowing how it would 
 hurt. The thought disturbed him deeply, chilled 
 him almost, for the thought of Tuck's being 
 actually guilty in spite of what he had said, not 
 only to himself but to Ruth Mackay, was far more 
 than he had counted on. 
 
 In the moment while he hesitated the door open- 
 ed and Warren Paxton entered. He stepped 
 briskly through the room looking apparently for 
 a table. When his eyes encountered those of Kirk 
 Brander his thin veneer of smile spread over his 
 face and he came forward to the place opposite 
 Kirk and Dags. It was practically the only 
 vacant place in the room and Paxton sat 
 down with an air of 'accepting the inevitable that 
 showed through the smile in spite of himself. 
 
 Though he did not offer to shake hands with 
 either Kirk or Dags he was evidently determined
 
 162 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 to make their meeting as pleasant as possible at 
 any rate. 
 
 "Back again, eh?" he said in his best manner 
 as he drew his chair close. "How's the big work 
 going?" 
 
 In Kirk's heart there was no real resentment 
 towards Paxton. He regarded him simply as an 
 antagonist in a fair fight where victory wonld go 
 to the man who planned the more wisely, worked 
 the harder, and proved himself the more resource- 
 ful. That Paxton had spoken unpleasantly to him 
 on a couple of occasions did not disturb him in the 
 least. Loud words and warnings of the kind that 
 Paxton had used in talking to Kirk belonged, after 
 all, to certain men's methods of doing business. 
 Above all he harbored no grudge. And in the end, 
 if Paxton succeeded in driving them from the field, 
 Kirk Brander would be the first to congratulate 
 him. He met Paxton 's questions frankly, there- 
 fore, and his voice was pleasant as he spoke. 
 
 "Going fine," he replied with enthusiasm. "In 
 six months it's going to be the most talked-of mine 
 in Canada. In a year and a half well have a rail- 
 road and a smelter. In two years well have a 
 town with electric lights and movies and five 
 thousand people." 
 
 Paxton 's smile widened as Kirk spoke. "You 
 sure are some dreamer, Brander, ' ' he replied. ' ' I 
 could almost feel sorry for you if my time wasn't 
 spent trying to break you." 
 
 Kirk laughed aloud.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 163 
 
 "Keep talking like that," Kirk said, "I like it. 
 So long as we can get it out of our systems like 
 this there won 't be any hard feelings. By the way, 
 what's the latest word about Tuck?" 
 
 The question hit Paxton rather suddenly. The 
 smile vanished from his face 'and his manner be- 
 came at once more cautious and deliberate. 
 
 "You haven't heard!" he asked. 
 
 " Just got in about fifteen minutes ago." 
 
 "They let him off." 
 
 Kirk put down his knife and fork and seized 
 Dags by the shoulders so violently that the latter 
 almost choked on something he was in the act of 
 swallowing. 
 
 "Dagsie, Tuck's off!" he almost shouted. 
 
 "Bo that again," Dags remarked when he had 
 recovered 'his voice, "and I'll have him pinched 
 and sent down." 
 
 "You didn't expect him to be convicted!" Pax- 
 ton asked with a sly upward look across the table 
 at Kirk. 
 
 "I knew he didn't take that fur he's not that 
 kind of a man," Kirk replied with directness. 
 "But you never can tell what a lawyer will prove 
 or what a judge will think." 
 
 "And you never can tell what others will think, 
 either," Paxton remarked very casually. 
 
 Kirk gave no heed to Paxton 's words. He was 
 busy with his own thoughts. "I'll have to find 
 Tuck and give him my blessing," he observed as 
 if he were talking to himself.
 
 164 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "He'll likely drop in here before we're 
 through," Dags suggested, a little unwilling that 
 his first hour in town should be ruffled by any un- 
 necessary excitement. 
 
 "He may," Paxton commented, "but the fact 
 is he hasn't been round much since the first day 
 he came out." 
 
 "Not even for a celebration?" Kirk enquired. 
 
 ' '-Celebration ? There wasn 't any. A man can't 
 hold a celebration by himself. ' ' 
 
 Kirk looked up quickly. Paxton 's face was 
 lowered, his eyes fixed on the food before him. 
 
 "There's something not just right about this, 
 Paxton," Kirk said with a directness that caused 
 Dags to turn and look at him and then nudge him 
 with his knee. 
 
 "Don't nudge me, Dagsie," Kirk commanded 
 abruptly. " I 'm not seeking advice now. I 'm try- 
 ing to get clear on some things that are beginning 
 to worry me some. ' ' 
 
 He turned again to Paxton. 
 
 "You said Tuck Eoberts was let ff, didn't 
 you!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The judge let him off clear?" 
 
 ' ' Sure found him not guilty. ' ' 
 
 Kirk thought a moment with his eyes still on 
 Paxton. 
 
 "Then what's wrong? Why isn't he round the 
 same as always? Why can't he find someone to 
 celebrate ? What 's wrong ? ' '
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 165 
 
 Kirk's voice had risen slightly as he spoke and 
 a number of those who were near him turned their 
 attention to the conversation between him and 
 Paxton. 
 
 "What's wrong?" Kirk repeated. 
 
 "Ask them!" Paxton replied, waving his hand 
 towards the men. 
 
 "I'm asking you." 
 
 Paxton 's anger got the better of him. "Yon 
 can't badger me, young fellow," he said, sitting 
 up and looking across the table at Kirk. "Every- 
 body in this town, including Tuck Roberts him- 
 self, knows who took those furs and if it hadn't 
 been for his little half-breed wench he 'd be doing 
 time right now." 
 
 Kirk battled against the impulses that were ris- 
 ing within him. He got up from his chair and 
 stooping above Paxton with his hands on the table, 
 spoke in a voice that forced itself from between 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 "Paxton, you ought to know better than to take 
 refuge behind your years. If you were fifteen 
 years younger I'd make you eat those words be- 
 fore you left this room. Get up ! " 
 
 Paxton did not move. With a sudden sweep of 
 his hand Kirk threw the table back against the 
 wall and bent above Paxton gripping him by the 
 collar of his coat. 
 
 1 ' Get up, damn you ! " he said and pulled Paxton 
 to his feet.
 
 166 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "Take your hands of me or I'll have yon ar- 
 rested/ ' Paxton roared. 
 
 Kirk gave no heed to the warning, however. 
 Pushing Paxton before him, he made for the door 
 and opening it with one hand, shoved him ont into 
 the street. Kirk stood a moment in the doorway 
 listening to Paxton 's muttered curses. Someone 
 came out with the latter 's hat and coat, and Kirk, 
 turning back, closed the door behind him and 
 faced the men in the room. 
 
 "If anyone has anything to say about this," he 
 said, and his voice was steady as he spoke, "get 
 it off your chest now. Tuck Roberts is my friend 
 so is Ruth Mackay. Now, then ! ' ' 
 
 He waited a moment but no one spoke. 
 
 "Your coffee's gettin* cold, Kirk," Dags an- 
 nounced flatly from his place at the table which 
 he had restored to its position during the excite- 
 ment. 
 
 The door opened behind Kirk suddenly and 
 Tuck Roberts entered. Kirk glanced round, then 
 leaped to his feet. 
 
 "Tuck, you old siwash!" Kirk cried and threw 
 his arms about him. 
 
 And gradually, while the two sat down at the 
 table and talked over the events of the past three 
 or four weeks, the men in the room laid down their 
 cards, got up from the tables and went out. 
 
 During the days that immediately followed, 
 Kirk had ample opportunity to observe Paxton 's 
 methods at first hand. The fact that on the day,
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 167 
 
 after his altercation with Paxton he was called 
 before the local magistrate and made to pay a fine 
 for assaulting him only added to the humor of the 
 situation as Kirk saw it. There was something 
 ludicrous about a man using a police magistrate to 
 fight his Battles for him in a country where magis- 
 trates at best seemed out of place. He paid his 
 fine, accordingly, and proceeded forthwith to 
 make a joke of it. Paxton, on the other hand, in- 
 sisted on taking the matter quite seriously and 
 turning it to account in his efforts to discredit 
 Kirk and go as far as possible towards outlawing 
 him in the community. 
 
 It was not long before Kirk realized precisely 
 what his position was. He suffered no ostracism 
 in a personal way; he went everywhere and was 
 received with the same heartiness as ever. But 
 when he opened a small office and set about the 
 main purpose of his visit to The Pas that of hir- 
 ing a gang of men to take with him to the mine on 
 the first regular trip of the boat to Sturgeon Land- 
 ing he found everywhere a lack of confidence 
 that was maddening. For five years his word had 
 been as good as his oath to these men. It was a 
 new and very disturbing experience to find them 
 ready to question him closely on every statement 
 he made. In the end the majority of them an- 
 nounced simply that they had decided to join 
 Paxton *s gang. 
 
 After three days of disappointment and partial 
 failure, Kirk saw that other tactics would have to
 
 168 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 be employed if he was to have his gang ready and 
 his full equipment together in time for the first 
 boat. He called Dags and Tuck Koberts and to- 
 gether they went over the situation. To Tuck he 
 assigned the task of letting the contract for feed- 
 ing the men and arranging all details connected 
 with it. Dags' practical experience in camp life 
 and his good judgment prompted Kirk to make 
 him responsible for getting the camp equipment 
 together and ready for shipping by boat and, be- 
 yond Sturgeon Landing, by freight canoe. Kirk 
 continued to struggle with the problem of getting 
 competent men to assist in the work of sinking the 
 shafts. Henry Tyne had let the contract for this 
 part of the work and the foreman with a dozen 
 men he had brought with him from Winnipeg 
 were already at The Pas. awaiting the time for 
 their departure for the mines. At least twenty 
 additional men would be required to get the work 
 properly under way and these had to be found in 
 The Pas or brought in from the outside. 
 
 In spite of Paxton's opposition, and in spite of 
 hours of disappointment, Kirk's good nature and 
 the genuine esteem in which he was held in the 
 place made fair progress against all odds. Within 
 three days of the sailing the foreman and Kirk 
 went over their notes together. With ordinary 
 good luck they would be ready when the time came 
 for the boat to leave. Kirk's one anxiety was 
 concerning the work he had set Dags to do. Some- 
 thing had gone wrong there. The camp equipment
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 169 
 
 which Dags was to get together was not nearly 
 ready and during the past two days Kirk had seen 
 very little of the old fellow. After two hours of 
 searching, he finally found Dags drunk as a lord 
 in a room in the hotel. Kirk went immediately 
 for Tuck and returning a few minutes later got 
 Dags out of the room and finally into Kirk's small 
 office. For a half hour they questioned Dags with 
 regard to where he had got his whiskey but the 
 old man was too far gone to give any information 
 that would either confirm Kirk's suspicions or 
 allay them. Both Tuck and Kirk, however, were 
 satisfied that Dags' condition was Paxton's work. 
 There was nothing to do but to relieve Dags of his 
 task and divide his work between them. 
 
 When morning dawned on the day the boat was 
 to sail Kirk and Tuck were in high spirits. Practi- 
 cally the last detail in their preparations had been 
 attended to and little was left to be done except 
 getting the men together at the wharf in time to 
 take the boat. 
 
 At four o'clock in the afternoon, just three 
 hours before the boat was to leave the dock, 
 Cavanagh came to Kirk where he was superin- 
 tending the loading of his equipment. 
 
 "You'd better get your men together, 
 Brander," he advised quietly, "and get them on 
 board." 
 
 Kirk looked at him in surprise. There was some- 
 thing significant in Cavanagh 's manner. The con- 
 stable read the question in Kirk's eyes.
 
 170 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "There's a little party working np and it 11 be 
 harder to get them away if you leave it any 
 longer," he explained. 
 
 Calling Tuck, Kirk explained 'briefly what Cav- 
 anagh had said and the two left the docks im- 
 mediately for up town. In the main street Kirk 
 thought he sensed a feeling of rising excitement, 
 an air of expectancy and suspense. In half an 
 hour, with Tuck's help, he got together about half 
 his men. Inquiries concerning the others led 
 finally to the information that they had fore- 
 gathered earlier in the afternoon in a shack on a 
 side street, bent upon celebrating their last day 
 in town. Kirk sent his men down to the boat with 
 Tuek while he went off up the street, determined 
 upon getting near enough to his men to size up the 
 problem intelligently and decide upon some course 
 of action. 
 
 When he opened the door of the shack without 
 ceremony and stepped inside, his unexpected ap- 
 pearance brought a momentary silence upon the 
 group. Half of them were already so intoxicated 
 that they seemed scarcely aware of his presence. 
 More than half the men in the shack were from 
 Paxton's gang. That the problem was of Paxton's 
 making there was no doubt in Kirk's mind. He 
 controlled his first impulse which was to tear into 
 the crowd single-handed and bring the celebration 
 abruptly to a close. 
 
 Without speaking he turned and went out of the 
 shack. Someone closed the door behind him as he
 
 THE I/OBSTICK TRAIL 171 
 
 stepped into the street. Hurrying to the dock he 
 got Tuck and ordered his men to follow. In fifteen 
 minutes they were before the .shack and Kirk put 
 his hand to the latch to open the door. This time, 
 however, the door did not yield and knocking loud- 
 ly he called for admittance. The noise within died 
 down somewhat at the sound of his voice "but al- 
 most immediately the din increased. Kirk repeat- 
 ed his summons and waited a moment to give them 
 an opportunity to reply. When no response came 
 he stepped back a few feet and leaping forward 
 threw his whole weight against the door. The door 
 gave slightly before him and one of the hinges 
 snapped. A second time he flung himself against 
 it. The door flew back suddenly and dangled from 
 one hinge against the wall. Kirk stepped into the 
 room followed by Tuck and a half dozen of his 
 men. 
 
 "Get out of here!" he commanded seizing one 
 of his men by the shoulder and turning him to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 The fellow went willingly enough and was taken 
 charge of by Kirk's men outside. But Kirk's act 
 was taken as a signal for resistance on the part of 
 the others, especially those who were of Paxton's 
 gang. At a cry of warning from Tuck Eoberts, 
 Kirk turned in time to see one of the latter raising 
 an empty bottle. It was no mere threat; in an- 
 other instant the bottle would have come hurling 
 towards him. But Kirk wa* beside hia assailant
 
 172 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 with a leap and a blow that sent him sprawling 
 against the wall. 
 
 At once the fight became general with Kirk and 
 Tuck and their half dozen men in the thick of it. A 
 table that stood against the wall crashed to the 
 floor under the weight of two lurching assailants. 
 But in little more than five minutes it was all over. 
 Kirk's men, drunken and protesting but consider- 
 ably sobered as a result of the melee, were all out- 
 side the shack and were being hustled off to the 
 boat by the men whom Kirk had brought along 
 with him. 
 
 Kirk stood a moment in the open doorway and 
 looked back at the men who were still in the shack. 
 There was no move on the part of any of them to 
 continue the struggle and Kirk waited long enough 
 to give his men a chance to get safely out of the 
 way. Then he drew the rickety door into place, 
 fastened it as well as he could from the outside 
 and hurried away. 
 
 "When he was half way down the street a shout 
 came to him from the direction of the docks. 
 Sensing more trouble, to which the few minutes 
 in the shack had been merely a curtain-raiser, 
 Kirk quickened his pace to a run until he rounded 
 the corner of the street leading to the dock. What 
 he saw more than justified his fears. Thirty or 
 forty men were engaged in a rough-and-tumble 
 battle close to the dock where the boat was 
 moored. A little way back from the scene of the 
 struggle a crowd of spectators looked on, their
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 173 
 
 numbers "being added to as others came hurrying 
 from all directions. 
 
 For a moment only Kirk stood watching the 
 fight from a distance. He conld distinguish some 
 of his own men sufficiently clearly to realize that 
 they were grappling with men from Paxton's out- 
 fit. It was a gang fight, one gang fighting to keep 
 the other from boarding the boat before it left the 
 dock. The captain and his boat hands looked on 
 from the railing of the upper deck, smoking their 
 pipes and evidently enjoying the action keenly. 
 Kirk looked quickly about to see if Cavanagh or 
 Keene were on hand but they were nowhere in 
 evidence. If they would only stay in the back- 
 ground until the affair was settled, Kirk thought, 
 so much the better. 
 
 Someone brushed past him roughly as he was 
 about to start for the scene of the fight. Old Dags, 
 sober enough now, was making for the docks as 
 fast as his legs could carry him. 
 
 * * Come on, Kirk, ' ' he shouted. * * Let 's give 'em 
 hell!" 
 
 Kirk could not help smiling at the old man's 
 eagerness and followed him into the thick of the 
 fight. For a few minutes there was little to the 
 struggle except indiscriminate whacking and 
 punching and mauling, in which feet as well as 
 hands were brought freely into play. Once or 
 twice Kirk caught sight of Tuck Roberts who, hat 
 off and shirt sleeves in ribbons, was plunging in 
 recklessly and apparently enjoying the time of his
 
 174 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 young life. Dags had disappeared from sight com- 
 pletely. Bnt Kirk was looking for someone else. 
 He knew that somewhere in the tumbling, striking 
 mass Phil Roche was probably giving a willing 
 hand to the support of Paxton's crew. "When he 
 finally caught sight of him, Roche was standing on 
 the far side of the crowd near the edge of the dock, 
 his 'back to the river, leisurely smoking a cigarette 
 and assuming the role of a mere spectator. Be- 
 side him was "Warren Paxton himself, smoking 
 his cigar and apparently enjoying the action as 
 much as anyone though he had not soiled his 
 clothes by taking any active part in it. 
 
 The sight of the two standing apart from the 
 fight that they were undoubtedly responsible for 
 maddened Kirk beyond expression. To reach them 
 he would have to fight his way through the mass. 
 In a moment he had plunged in. Right and left he 
 struck, smashing his way through and leaving any 
 who attempted to bar his progress stretched on 
 the ground before he turned to the next. The re- 
 sult of his entering the fight was noticeable at 
 once. Everywhere Ms men were now sweeping 
 forward towards the boat, breaking down opposi- 
 tion with a movement that quickly gathered speed 
 and in another minute the struggle would have 
 been over. 
 
 But catching sight of Kirk in the centre of the 
 crowd and realizing that affairs were taking an 
 unfavorable turn, Roche stepped in, seized a 
 couple of his men who were being driven back to-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 175 
 
 wards the dock, threw them 'back into the fight 
 and then plunged towards Kirk. They were sev- 
 eral yards apart and every foot of the distance 
 that separated them would have to Tbe fought over 
 before they came within reach of each other. 
 
 Almost at the same moment that Eoche entered 
 the fight, Dags, dishevelled, battered-looking but 
 still fierce, emerged from the crowd and con- 
 fronted Paxton. A few words passed between 
 them while Dags waited to give him time to de- 
 fend himself. Paxton looked scornfully a moment 
 at the old fellow but when Dags stepped suddenly 
 towards him, his expression changed. Kealizing 
 that he was going to be forced to take a hand in 
 the fight, Paxton stepped back quickly and seized 
 a heavy stick that lay on the dock at his feet. Dags 
 was upon him in a moment. Though Paxton raised 
 the club and brought it down again as quickly and 
 as savagely as he could, Dags was too quick for 
 him. Dropping the stick at the same moment that 
 Dags, having crouched suddenly to avoid the blow, 
 seized him round the knees, Paxton began pawing 
 with his hands in a futile effort to get a hold that 
 would give him at least a fair chance of defending 
 himself. Dags lost no time, however, in following 
 up his advantage. For a moment or two he tugged 
 and lifted with all the strength at his command. 
 Then straightening suddenly he struck out almost 
 at once with both hands. When Paxton stepped 
 back from the force of the blows he tottered on the 
 edge of the dock. But Dags was in a fight a
 
 176 THE DOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 fight, moreover, in which his opponent had. at- 
 tacked him with a club heavy enough to have 
 broken his head had the blow landed. With an 
 oath that seemed bitten off between clenched teeth 
 he sprang once more at Paxton. Eealizing the 
 hopelessness of his position Paxton turned away 
 slightly to avoid the blow, collapsed and went over 
 the edge of the dock. Dags did not pause long 
 enough even to hear the splash, to say nothing of 
 the sputtering that followed. Leaving Paxton to 
 his own resources and to the tender mercies of a 
 couple of spectators who came up to offer their 
 aid, he turned back again into the crowd. 
 
 By this time the fight had passed the critical 
 stage. Everywhere Paxton 's men had been beat- 
 en back and half of Kirk's men were already on 
 board. In the space that had thus been cleared 
 of men, Kirk and Phil Koche were pitted against 
 each other in a fight that was more furious than 
 anything that day. A ring of spectators had 
 closed in about the pair, divided in their sympa- 
 thies, but cheering and calling incessantly as the 
 two men threw caution to the winds in their desire 
 to end matters as quickly as possible. 
 
 Suddenly there was a flurry on the outside of 
 the crowd. The ranks of the spectators broke and 
 gave way before Cavanagh and Keene who with a 
 half dozen mounties and deputies pushed their 
 way through and surrounding the two men, tore 
 them apart.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 177 
 
 ' * Quit it, boys ! ' ' Cavanagh said quietly. ' ' Quit 
 it, now, and lay off this stuff!" 
 
 The deputies dispersed the crowd and in less 
 than a minute Kirk was on his way to the boat 
 with Cavanagh while Koche was being led away by 
 Keene and a couple of his men. 
 
 "Come on, Kirk," Tuck called as Kirk stepped 
 up the gang-plank. * ' Some little party, eh ? " 
 
 Kirk grinned. "Oh, boy!" he said, and the 
 two shook hands. 
 
 "Bui did you see Dags!" asked Tuck. 
 
 "Dags? No, what " 
 
 For answer Tuck laughed and turned Kirk 
 about for a look at Paxton where he was walking 
 away dripping from the plunge he had taken off 
 the dock. While they laughed together at Paxton 
 Dags came to them, his face marked and his eyes 
 staring from excitement. 
 
 "Dagsie, old boy, put it there!" Kirk cried giv- 
 ing the old fellow his hand. "But believe me, 
 Dags, youVe started something." 
 
 Half an hour later the boat left its moorings 
 [and moved leisurely into the current of the Sas- 
 katchewan,
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WITHIN a week after Kirk and his men 
 arrived at the Micmac, Paxton, ac- 
 companied by Phil Roche and about 
 twenty men arrived on the Ripple Creek pro- 
 perty and began work. Old John Mackay had 
 come from The Pas and had quietly gone to live 
 in his cabin about a quarter of a mile from Kirk's 
 camp where he could watch the work going on 
 from a comfortable distance and not seem in any 
 way to be interfering. For the old prospector 
 had grown very anxious of late over the future 
 of his mine. He had seen two attempts to de- 
 velop his property end in failure and realized 
 fully what the significance of a third failure 
 would be. And Paxton had left nothing undone 
 to shake John Mackay 's confidence in the future 
 of his property, now that it was in the hands of 
 Henry Tyne. It was with mixed feelings, there- 
 fore, that he got from his bunk and going down to 
 the water's edge to wash in thosw early spring 
 mornings, listened to the sounds of the work that 
 was going on in the two camps. Once out of sheer 
 loneliness and prompted by a feeling of his own 
 helplessness where men like Warren Paxton and 
 Henry Tyne were fighting it out over his head, he 
 
 178
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 179 
 
 swallowed his pride and walked over to see John 
 Allen. They had not met on friendly terms since 
 the day he had left John Allen's cabin and gone 
 to live by himself. But tie felt sure that John 
 Allen shared some of his uneasiness at the pres- 
 ence of outsiders whose power was money and 
 whose sense of values had long been distorted 
 because it had been permitted no expression ex- 
 cept what it could find in terms of dollars and 
 cents. Half an hour later he returned to his 
 cabin disconsolate and out of sorts with the 
 world in general John Allen had gone to The 
 Pas for his outfit. He put his canoe into the 
 water and spent the day moving about from 
 island to island and from bay to bay enjoying 
 the luxury of supreme idleness. He only hoped 
 that John Allen stubborn old fool that he was 
 would not become like one of these outsiders. 
 
 Nor was John Mackay the only one who watch- 
 ed the growth of the two camps with wondering 
 and misgiving. Day after day Jule Allen sat 
 on the great rock above the falls and listened to 
 the sounds that came first from one camp and 
 then from the other. Often she drew her big 
 dog Snap down beside her and confided fears 
 that she scarcely knew how to express*. The 
 world she had known as her own was being in- 
 vaded by strangers. Even now, with the work 
 only beginning, she felt that the place was no 
 longer her own. She had gone about freely for 
 years, had romped and played over ground that
 
 180 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 ehe called her own without finding anyone to dis- 
 pute the claim. Already, she felt, the limits of 
 her freedom were being set by the newcomers. 
 To her it seemed that her sacred rights were 
 being outraged. 
 
 And yet, she told herself, she should be happy 
 at the thought that some day a town with 
 hundreds, even thousands of people would spring 
 up on the very ground she had called hers. Her 
 father had told her so, though she never quite 
 knew whether her father was happy in the pros- 
 pect or not. He only knew that he had de- 
 termined upon a course of action that would 
 make him as strong a man as these who were 
 coming in from the outside. Her father at any 
 rate was no outsider. These others she despised 
 because she knew that they cared no more for the 
 country she loved than people did who had never 
 heard of it. They would come in for what they 
 could get, stay until they had taken it and then 
 disappear as suddenly as they had come. Her 
 father had reminded her of that, too, though she 
 had felt it instinctively before he mentioned it. 
 
 Paxton and Tyne were mere names to Jule 
 Allen, names that she hated equally and without 
 discrimination. Phil Eoche she thought of fre- 
 quently, now that he had come to superintend 
 operations on Paxton 's property, but never with 
 sentiment. The months that had passed since 
 the unfortunate affair at Cumberland House had 
 practically effaced even the memory of what she
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 181 
 
 had once felt towards him. Nor did it ever occur 
 to her to be afraid of him. It was as if he had 
 never existed for her, as if his stories of big 
 cities and crowded streets had never been told. 
 Towards Kirk Brander she was without feeling 
 except annoyance over what had occurred that 
 day on the hillside. Somehow she associated 
 Kirk with Marion Curtis. He was as much a 
 stranger to her as if he had just come from the 
 city to assist in exploiting the mines and to get 
 out again when his work was done. 
 
 And so she watched both camps and listened 
 to the shouts of the men and the grinding of 
 chains and wheels and the cold hard rattle of the 
 ore in the buckets, and felt herself very far 
 from it all. 
 
 Kirk Brander came in from his cold plunge 
 in the lake and began brisk preparations for sup- 
 per. Lying on the bunk in one corner of the 
 cabin was old man Dags taking a few minutes' 
 sleep before the cook house gong should sound. 
 Tuck Roberts in a homemade easy chair sat by 
 the window lazily turning the pages of a maga- 
 zine iwo months old. Bingo lay near the door 
 with his snout between his paws. 
 
 "Booh!" Kirk said as he broke through the 
 open doorway and startled Dags out of his sleep. 
 "That water sure has pep in it. You ought to 
 get into it, Tuck,"
 
 182 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 He began drying Ms hair vigorously with a 
 fresh towel. 
 
 "You can have it," Tuck drawled with his chin 
 on his chest. 
 
 "I wish your damn* lake'd freeze over!" Dags 
 exploded, rolling out of the bunk and preparing 
 to take a modest wash in the basin that stood just 
 outside the door. 
 
 The work in the camp had been in full swing 
 for a month with gangs of men working in double 
 shifts so that not an hour of the twenty-four was 
 lost. Even as they waited for the gong to summon 
 them to supper the ground beneath their feet 
 shook perceptibly from the shock of the ex- 
 plosions in the shafts. The regular puffing that 
 came from the engine house, the noisy rattle of 
 the lifts in the shafts, the metallic roar of the 
 rock tumbling out of the carriers and rolling 
 down the side of the ore dump, all gave evidence 
 of life and activity. From the lake came the 
 laboured chug-chug of a gasoline launch towing 
 in a raft of wood that was almost too much for 
 it. Standing in groups about the camp, within 
 easy distance of the cook camp, the day shift 
 waited the summons to supper. 
 
 Kirk came to the doorway of his cabin and 
 stood for a moment looking across the lake to 
 where the little launch was struggling with its 
 load. 
 
 "If it wasn't a dead calm he'cl never make it 
 with that load," he commented.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 183 
 
 "He thinks he's takin' a rise out of the Al- 
 mighty," Dags replied, wiping his hands dry in 
 the towel as he stood and gazed across the lake. 
 
 Kirk's eyes shifted until they rested upon the 
 camp on the opposite ishore of the lake. A little 
 to the left, Kipple Creek entered the lake and 
 in the brief moments of silence that came oc- 
 casionally unbroken by the noises from the camps, 
 Kirk could hear the muffled roar of the rapida 
 before Jule Allen's cabin. 
 
 For reasons that are best known to the young, 
 Kirk Brander had come to think of the cabin 
 back there among the trees as Jule Allen's 
 cabin. He had seen nothing of either Jule or her 
 father since he had come back from The Pas 
 with his men and had begun work. He knew, 
 only from his own freighters and the men who 
 brought in the mail that John Allen had gone to 
 The Pas nearly a month ago to get his equipment 
 loaled and chipped in. From time to time his 
 men had reported the progress the old English- 
 man was making and he knew that by this time 
 John Allen would be somewhere north of 
 Sturgeon Landing on the most hazardous stages 
 of his journey. Many times during the past month 
 Kirk had thought of going to see Jule Allen. He 
 felt that he should do something to make amends 
 for the unfortunate manner of their first meet- 
 ing. Besides, Tuck Roberts was in the habit of 
 spending a great deal of his time with old John 
 Mackay. Soon Ruth would come to live with her
 
 184 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 father and Kirk knew that from then on he would 
 see little of Tuck except when they were at work 
 during the day. Frequently, more in fun than 
 anything else, he had threatened to leave Tuck 
 and Dags and spend the evening with Jule Allen. 
 But John Allen's absence and the fact that he 
 was not likely to be well received anyhow, made 
 him decide to await a more propitious moment. 
 
 Tuck emerged from the cabin and broke 
 abruptly upon his reveries. 
 
 "Any sign of the mail yet?" he asked, casting 
 his eyes in the same direction as Kirk was look- 
 ing. 
 
 "You ought to -go and meet them," Kirk 
 smiled in reply. 
 
 The sound of the supper gong brought to a 
 sudden end the little scuffle that followed Bark's 
 remark, and they hurried off together with 
 Dags following closely. 
 
 During the supper hour news came of the ar- 
 rival of the mail, and Kirk and Tuck left the 
 table early to go to the little office where the mail 
 was received. When they had opened the sacks 
 and sorted the letters, they took up the bundles 
 of magazines and papers and the letters that 
 were theirs and went into their cabin. 
 
 For an hour they were so absorbed that neither 
 had anything to say to the other. Once Tuck, 
 commanding a manner as casual as possible, an- 
 nounced that Euth Mackay was coming to live 
 with her father in less than a week. Kirk re-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 185 
 
 ceived the announcement with little show of in- 
 terest. A long letter from Marion Curtis and 
 another from Henry Tyne engrossed his atten- 
 tion. Both letters were outwardly optimistic 
 and yet Kirk could not help feeling that they 
 were meeting new difficulties in raising the funds 
 necessary for their enterprise. Nothing, Kirk 
 realized, but the unobstructed development of 
 the mine and, in addition to that, the possible 
 uncovering of new bodies of high grade ore 
 would establish the confidence in their under- 
 taking, without which they would seek substantial 
 credits in vain. The effect of the letters was to 
 make Kirk even more determined than ever to 
 swing his end of the work along smoothly. 
 
 He looked up from his letters suddenly as 
 Dags entered the doorway. 
 
 "John Allen's home," Dags announced. 
 
 "When?" Kirk asked. 
 
 "The boys brought him in with them." 
 
 "The boys?" 
 
 "The mail. The old man's just about done 
 for." 
 
 There was a note of genuine sympathy in 
 Dags ' voice. 
 
 "Something wrong, Dags?" Kirk asked. 
 
 "Lost everything at the upper rapids on Rat 
 Creek," Dags replied. "A cable slipped when 
 
 they were trackin' the rapid and " He made 
 
 a motion with his hands indicating that every- 
 thing had been swept away.
 
 186 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Kirk and Tuck were B truck dumb at the an- 
 nouncement. Dags fiat dawn on the edge of his 
 bunk and lighting his pipe, smoked a moment in 
 silence. 
 
 "He never should 'a' done it," he observed 
 finally. "It's just like temptin' God Almighty." 
 
 "I'm going over to see the old man," Kirk 
 said, going to the doorway and looking out at the 
 lake. 
 
 "It might be a good idea/' Dags remarked. 
 "The boys gay there's nothin' left to him at all. 
 Paxton came back again to-day, too." 
 
 Kirk took his hat from the wall and without 
 a word to either Tuck or Dags left the cabin and 
 when he reached the limits of the camp, followed 
 the narrow trail that ran through the woods to- 
 wards John Allen's cabin. In ten minutes he 
 stood before the open door and with hat in hand 
 spoke John Allen's name. 
 
 Jule Allen came from a small room at the back 
 of the cabin and stood for a moment before TiJTn. 
 It was evident that she expected him to tell her 
 his business if he had any. And yet, in spite of her 
 uninviting demeanor, he could see that in her 
 heart she was deeply troubled and that he was 
 more, welcome at that moment than she was pre- 
 pared to admit, 
 
 "I've come to gee John Allen," Kirk said 
 quietly. 
 
 Jule led tie way into the ro-om out of which 
 she bad just eome. John AJlen lay in bed, his
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 187 
 
 head propped against pillows, his hands lying in 
 listless fashion on the coverlet. He tnrned his 
 face slowly towards Kirk as he entered the room. 
 Dags had reported more truly than he knew. 
 John Allen had come to the end of his physical 
 resources. His experiences of the past few days 
 had broken him so that he was little more than a 
 ghost of his former self. 
 
 "I've come to see you," Kirk said as he ad- 
 vanced and took the old man's hand in his. "And 
 I want to tell you that I'm sorry for what has 
 happened. It was hard luck." 
 
 John Allen motioned Kirk to a seat and then 
 for a moment closed his eyes. After a long sil- 
 ence he turned his head and looked at Kirk. 
 
 "It was more than hard luck, Brander," he 
 said in a broken voice. "It means the end I 
 can't go on any more. I didn't think one blow 
 would take the fight out of a man but it will if 
 it's hard enough." 
 
 "You'll go on again, John Allen," Kirk en- 
 couraged him. "A man doesn't quit until he's 
 all in and you've got something left." 
 
 The old prospector seemeid on the point of 
 making a reply but he hesitated and moved his 
 head impatiently. Thee he looked towards the 
 door of his room. 
 
 " Where's the girl?" he asked. 
 
 Jule appeared immediately at the sound of her 
 father's voice. "What is it, father?" she asked. 
 
 "Jule," he eaid quietly, "I think I'd like to 
 
 (18)
 
 188 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 see John Mackay for a while. It 's e,arly yet. Go 
 and tell him I want him. I'll be all right 
 Brander here will stay till you come back." 
 
 Jule left immediately and Kirk drew his chair 
 closer to the bedside. The old prospector lifted 
 himself a little and took his pipe and tobacco 
 from the stand near the head of his bed. He 
 filled it leisurely and in silence and when he had 
 applied a match and taken a few puffs he turned 
 his eyes towards Kirk. 
 
 "It's all right, Brander, " he said, pointing the 
 stem of his pipe towards Kirk to give emphasis 
 to what he was saying, "it's all right for you to 
 tell me I'm going on again. But it isn't true. 
 You are young and don't know what I know. 
 When a man's done he's done. It's been a fight 
 with me for the last year- but I thought I'd get 
 going again when I started to work the place 
 here. But a man of my age knows pretty well 
 when it's all over with him. I've plugged along 
 and scrambled my way through for years in this 
 country. But life here takes more than it gives/' 
 
 He paused a moment to puff again at his pipe, 
 then he went on again. 
 
 "I had one chance and it's gone. If I could 
 have got in here with the drill and got down to 
 work for the summer I could have shown some 
 of you fellows what I had here. I'd have made 
 you come to me to talk business and you'd have 
 listened to my terms. Now it's gone the only
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 189 
 
 r 
 
 real chance I ever had. I spent my last dollar 
 and I haven't it in me to go on." 
 
 Kirk took advantage of a moment's pause. 
 "Is there anything I could do anything that 
 would helpf" he asked, keenly aware of his own 
 helplessness. 
 
 "There are things some things that might 
 be done," John Allen admitted slowly, "but they 
 can wait. We'll see in a few days just how I'm 
 going to get along. I may be out again and 
 around before very long. If anything should 
 happen if it happened suddenly there 'd be 
 some things to do yes. But the truth is, Brander, 
 I can't trust outsiders. You're all right never 
 heard anything to the contrary but Paxton 
 wouldn't stop at any tiling. I don't know Tyne, 
 but I suspect they're all alike, Brander, and so 
 long as you're one of them you're one of them." 
 
 "I wish you could talk for half an hour to 
 Henry Tyne," Kirk suggested. "He's not " 
 
 "You don't see things as I do, Brander," the 
 old prospector interrupted. "These fellows from 
 the city don't care for this country except for 
 what they can grab and carry away with them. 
 With us it's different. This is the place I've 
 come to live. It's my home and I want to stay 
 here and, when the time comes, die here, to*). 
 That's what makes the difference. That's what 
 makes it hard to put any faith in outsiders. When 
 they are through with the country there will be 
 nothing left to show that we've been here except
 
 190 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 some holes in the ground, some worked-out 
 shafts, a few broken-down cabins, and a few hills 
 stripped bare of trees." 
 
 He paused abruptly and looked towards the 
 door. 
 
 "I thought I heard someone coming," he said. 
 
 As he spoke a knock sounded at the door and 
 to John Allen's summons, "Warren Paxton 
 entered from the outside and found his way to 
 the doorway of the room. When his eyes fell 
 upon Kirk he paused abruptly and waited for 
 John Allen to bid him enter. The old prospector 
 merely spoke Paxton 's name and motioned with 
 his hand. 
 
 Paxton came forward briskly. "I hear youVe 
 had a run of bad luck, John," he said with an 
 evident effort at cheerfulness. 
 
 John Allen didn't reply at once, and Paxton 
 turned to Kirk, his teeth showing through his 
 smile. "Bumps come to the best of us, Brander," 
 he remarked. 
 
 "Even the oldest of us," Kirk replied. 
 
 "Youth or age doesn't really count," Paxton 
 smiled. 
 
 "Except that the younger you are the quicker 
 you are on the come-back," Kirk retorted. 
 
 Paxton laughed a little and turned to John 
 Allen. 
 
 "This will change your plans a bit, John," he 
 remarked drily.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 191 
 
 Though he waited for a reply, John Allen did 
 not speak. 
 
 "As a matter of business, simply, I want you 
 to know that I'm prepared to open the question 
 of the White Squaw any time you feel like it," 
 he continued. 
 
 John Allen made an impatient gesture which 
 Paxton picked up quickly. "We won't talk of 
 that now, of course," he explained. "In the 
 meantime, if there's anything I can do, just call 
 on me. I'd be glad to help you in any way pos- 
 sible." 
 
 "Thanks," murmured John Allen. 
 
 "We're neighbors here, John," Paxton con- 
 tinued, following up what looked like a small ad- 
 vantage, "and in this country neighbors are few 
 and far between. Count on me if I can be of any 
 service." 
 
 "It's neighbors we need in this country, Mr. 
 Paxton," John Allen commented, "need them 
 badly." 
 
 But Paxton did not catch the significance of 
 the remark. Kirk on the other hand found a 
 strange satisfaction in knowing precisely what 
 John Allen meant. 
 
 "I've brought in a bit of fresh news to you," 
 Paxton went on after a pause in the conversa- 
 tion. "I had a trip to Winnipeg this time and 
 secured a lease on the falls to develop power. Be- 
 fore another year we'll have your cabin lighted 
 with electricity, John."
 
 192 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Kirk censed at once the effect the announce- 
 ment would have on the old prospector. He 
 could not understand how Paxton could be so 
 thick-skinned as not to see how the news would be 
 taken. John Allen turned suddenly towards 
 Paxton and his face went white. 
 
 "You don't mean our falls the falls in the 
 creek heref " he asked in a voice that plainly ex- 
 pressed his bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes certainly, " Paxton replied. "Why 
 not?" 
 
 "Why not? Why, man my girl don't yon 
 understand she won't let you do that!" 
 
 Paxton 's smile broadened. "That's just 
 sentiment," he reminded the old man, "and a 
 girl's sentiment, at that. Practical men ' 
 
 "I'm a practical man, Paxton," John Allen 
 interrupted in a voice that was quickly getting 
 out of control, "and I'm going to tell you that as 
 long as I live you're not going to put your hands 
 on the power in that waterfall." 
 
 Paxton 's impatience was quite evident. 
 
 "But I've got the lease I can go ahead when 
 I'm ready," he insisted. 
 
 "Go ahead!" John Allen replied. "Try it! 
 For years my girl has gone there to rest, she has 
 taken her work there and sat for hours above 
 it, it's been to her like a like a house of God, 
 Paxton, and the first man that puts a hand to 
 changing it will have to reckon with me." 
 
 As he spoke there came the sound of footsteps
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 193 
 
 from without and in a moment Jule Allen entered 
 followed by old John Mackay. Paxton got up 
 from where he had been sitting and left abruptly 
 muttering a few words of greeting to the new- 
 comers and a brief word or two of leave-taking 
 that John Allen did not hear. 
 
 For a few moments John Mackay stood in the 
 doorway and looked at John Allen in silence. 
 
 "Something wrong, John?" asked John Mae- 
 kay. 
 
 John Allen put out his hand and the two old 
 prospectors gripped hands in a long and silent 
 reconciliation. 
 
 "I've been hit hard," remarked John Allen. 
 "I don't think there'll be much more to tell." 
 
 "The girl has told me," said John Mackay, 
 sitting down and taking his pipe from his pocket. 
 
 Jule had already withdrawn and Kirk felt 
 that the two old men would be more comfortable 
 if left alone. He got up and with a brief good- 
 bye reminded John Allen that he would help if 
 he could, and went out. 
 
 He found Jule Allen standing alone in the 
 doorway of the cabin. As he approached she 
 stepped out and moved slowly towards the nar- 
 row trail that led from the cabin to the rock above 
 the falls. Kirk watched her for a few moments 
 and then, closing the cabin door behind him 
 quietly, followed after her without speaking. 
 
 When they had come to the rock, they stood a 
 moment and looked down along the creek to
 
 194 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 where the lake showed in the wide opening be- 
 tween the trees on either bank. The sun had 
 gone down and the twilight had already begun to 
 set in. A tint -of purple lay upon the water of the 
 lake, purple and turquoise blue, and beyond 
 stretched the long shore line with its shadows of 
 black-pointed spruce in silhouette against an 
 amber sky. A long way off, the low shore was 
 but a ragged bar of smoky blue and the light on 
 the water a mere dusky gray. The colors had 
 faded from the rocks nearby and they lay dead 
 against the background of shaded shore. 
 
 Kirk turned his eyes from the lake and the 
 wooded shores and looked at Jule. 
 
 "I've come out here to tell you that there's 
 trouble ahead for you, Jule Allen," he said 
 quietly, "and to tell you that I'm going to help 
 you whether you want me to or not. ' ' 
 
 When she turned to him her face was troubled 
 and her glance was searching. 
 
 "Do you think he can't get over it?" she asked. 
 
 "Let's be straight," Kirk replied. "He's too 
 hard hit." 
 
 "I know it," she said, turning away to hide the 
 tears that were rising to her eyes. 
 
 "If it will help any," Kirk went on, "tell him 
 that Paxton will never lay a hand on the water 
 power of Ripple Creek while I'm alive." 
 
 She turned quickly to look at Kirk. 
 
 "I don't understand -I " 
 
 "He'll tell you all about it," Kirk explained.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 195 
 
 "Paxton has been over again. Just tell John 
 Allen what I have said. It may help him to rest 
 a little easier." 
 
 Kirk turned away and followed the trail that 
 led back to camp. He paused a moment just 
 where the trail disappeared among the trees and 
 looked back. Jule Allen was standing still where 
 he had left her. Her face was turned towards 
 him. 
 
 " Good-bye, " he called, as a challenge to the 
 gentler nature that he knew was hers if she only 
 permitted it expression. 
 
 She did not speak but while he waited he saw 
 her lift her hand once towards him and when he 
 turned again into the trail he was lighter at 
 heart than he had been for weeks.
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 
 THOUGH Kirk had regarded from every 
 angle the proposal to develop water power 
 out of the falls on Eipple Creek, he could 
 not bring himself to think that Paxton would 
 actually go forward with the work until, at any 
 rate, the whole question of monopoly in the dis- 
 trict should be settled. The expense necessary 
 to instal a power plant, Kirk knew, could hardly 
 be justified if the power was to be used solely on 
 Paxton 's claims. If Paxton 's holdings could be 
 made to include the White Squaw and the Mic- 
 mac, or even the White Squaw alone, there would 
 be some justification for such an enterprise. The 
 more he thought about it, and the more he talked 
 it over with Tuck and Dags, the more convinced 
 he was that Paxton 's announcement was simply 
 part of the game he was playing to discourage 
 and drive others from the field. That he had 
 secured a lease on the site there was no reason 
 for doubting. The outlay involved would be 
 trifling and the future might easily justify it. But 
 Kirk had little fear that Paxton would make im- 
 mediate use of the privileges he had thus secured. 
 He was content, therefore, to wait until he saw 
 Paxton move before he took any steps to inter- 
 
 196
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 197 
 
 fere. He had quite made up his mind that he 
 would interfere, and in a very direct manner, at 
 the first indication that Paxton was going to 
 promote his interests in that direction. In the 
 meantime he had informed Henry Tyne of Pax- 
 ton's avowed intentions and of his own de- 
 termination to act directly and as he should think 
 fit at the time, if Paxton should take any steps to- 
 wards carrying out his plans. Whenever he 
 thought of the matter Kirk was seized with a 
 spirit of recklessness that caused him to dis- 
 regard the fact that Paxton 's actions would prob- 
 ably have the protection of the law while his own 
 might lead him into difficulty with legal authority. 
 But he was prepared for once in his life to face 
 the consequences. If he could -find grounds in the 
 meantime for bringing the whole matter into 
 court, so much the better. Before a decision 
 could be handed down Henry Tyne would have 
 had an opportunity to show what he could do 
 with the Micmac. If their hopes were realized 
 the future was secure and it would only be a mat- 
 ter of fime before they could push Paxton to one 
 side. If they failed, well, they had done all they 
 could do and nothing else mattered. 
 
 With John Allen, a broken-down invalid, and 
 his daughter, Jule, the case was different. Pax- 
 ton's announcement had touched them both so 
 vitally that they were unable to think quietly or 
 to reason about the matter at all. They were pre- 
 pared simply to fight to the very end, with what-
 
 198 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 ever means they could find, to avert what seemed 
 to them both an unnatural outrage. Day after 
 day John Allen weakened under the strain of his 
 defeat. Every morning he sent Jule out on a 
 little trip of inspection along the creek lest Pax- 
 ton should make any move without his knowing 
 it. Every evening when John Mackay paid his 
 visit, John Allen waxed furious over the affair 
 and when he had exhausted himself, talked long 
 and earnestly about the future, a future in which 
 he was convinced Jule would have to go on alone. 
 Jule herself went often now for comfort and 
 companionship to Euth Mackay, who had come 
 to live with her father. And the two old pros- 
 pectors, nursing their grievances against the 
 ways of the world,, watched the friendship grow 
 and were happy. 
 
 "This can't go on much longer, girl," John 
 Allen murmured one morning while Jule served 
 him with breakfast. "We've got to face things, 
 even the hardest things, with our eyes open." 
 
 Jule came to him and kneeling beside the bed 
 she took his hands in hers. 
 
 "You mustn't talk like that, father," she pro- 
 tested. 
 
 But John Allen shook his head. "I must talk 
 while I can, girl, for there are some things I want 
 you to know. I have dreamed big things for you 
 and the dreams are all gone. But there are some 
 things still that I'd do if I had my strength. I
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 199 
 
 haven't got the strength and I'm not going to 
 have it back, and I want yon to go on. This place 
 is ours yours and mine. It's been home to ns 
 and I'd hoped some day to make it a little more 
 than home, I wanted to see it the place where men 
 would find work to do and be happy in doing it. It 
 doesn't seem possible now. These pirates are 
 pushing in all round us. They're going to snatch 
 what they can and run away with it 'Their 
 homes are somewhere else. Don't let them run 
 off with our home, girl. When the end comes I 
 want to lie here under our trees within sound of 
 the water and you know the rest. I've spoken 
 to John Mackay. He'll advise you and he'll help 
 you. And when the time comes and it will come 
 when someone will find you here and want to 
 take you away, tell him tell him how you love it 
 here and bring him to see that you can't go. We 
 want men here who will stay men who will live 
 their lives here because they have found the place 
 their hearts have been looking for. We don't 
 want the other kind the kind that tear and de- 
 stroy and go away again leaving the place blasted 
 and ugly. This place has been ours. It'll be 
 yours from now on. You must do with it as you 
 please, but you must grow up to do what I would 
 have done if I'd gone on." 
 
 He paused and laid his hand upon Jule's head 
 where it was bowed on the coverlet. She was 
 weeping softly and John Allen stroked her hair 
 very gently for a while before he continued.
 
 200 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "I'm not asking too much, girl," he said 
 haltingly. "I'm only asking you to try. It may 
 be that in the end yon will find what I have 
 found, that the task is too much. Well, don't 
 wait too long don't throw away your life in a 
 fight that can't be won. All I'm asking is that 
 you remember what I've said and that you'll 
 dream about it and fight for it till you know you 
 have to give up. Now, run out and take a look 
 along the creek." 
 
 Jule got up and after kissing her father and 
 holding him close to her for a long time silently, 
 turned away and walked towards the door. When 
 she looked back the tears were gone from her 
 eyes and in their place were the fires that danced 
 there on the afternoon when Kirk had met her 
 on the hillside. She was John Allen's daughter 
 as she stood there and the old man's pride rose 
 at the sight of her. Then she whisked away 
 quickly and was gone. 
 
 And as Jule took her way through the woods, 
 accompanied as usual on such trips by her dog, 
 Snap, she felt very lonely and looked about her 
 at her trees and rocks in the hope that in these 
 friends of her youth she might find some comfort. 
 
 It had rained during the night, a warm, early 
 summer rain that had gone deep down into the 
 roots where they lay bedded in the brown moss. 
 The boughs of the spruce were a clearer green, 
 the black boles standing very rigid, the high 
 points scarcely moving against the gray sky. The
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 201 
 
 birches huddled together in little clumps here and 
 there seemed to dislike the feel of the wet rain 
 on their dainty leaves. Underfoot the mosses 
 were soft and yielding with here and there an 
 uncovered root gleaming white above ground. 
 Now and then Jule stopped and shook the 
 heavy raindrops from the ground-plants or 
 watched a chattering squirrel hurry off at Snap 's 
 approach and mount scolding to a high branch 
 of a tree. 
 
 She left the little path she had been following 
 and picked her way carefully among the low 
 bushes until she reached the stony edge of the 
 creek. Above her hung an aider bush, its soft 
 dark branches leaning towards the water and 
 holding their dark leaves up to the sky as if 
 waiting for the sun to warm them. 
 
 Suddenly from a distance up the creek came the 
 sound of voices and looking out cautiously she 
 caught sight of Paxton and Koche getting from 
 their canoe after having crossed from the other 
 side of the creek. Quickly she turned and ordered 
 Snap back to the cabin. Then she waited under 
 the cover of the alders while the two men drew 
 their canoe out of the water and started towards 
 her. When they had come within a few yards of 
 her she withdrew a little way and crouched low 
 behind a clump of willows until they had gone 
 past. Then, hiding as best she could behind the 
 trunks of spruce-trees, she followed them, keeping 
 almost within hearing distance, Concealment was
 
 202 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 not difficult; Koche and Paxton were so intent 
 upon their own conversation that they had ears 
 for little else. 
 
 Finally when they came within sight of the 
 cabin they paused and stepped down closer to the 
 edge of the creek. She moved close enough to be 
 able to hear their voices quite clearly and then 
 took a position behind a couple of spruce trees 
 that stood together. And while she listened her 
 blood grew warm and she was conscious of the 
 quickened beating of her pulses. Paxton was evi- 
 dently bent upon going on with the power project 
 and had come out to look over the ground on both 
 sides of the creek with Phil Roche. Though she 
 could pick up only an occasional word as they 
 spoke, Jule learned enough to know what had 
 brought them over so early in the day. 
 
 As she thought of her father lying hopelessly 
 ill in the cabin and then of these men laying their 
 plans in total disregard of his helplessness, she 
 found it almost impossible to control herself. But 
 hard as it was to keep her rising anger in check, 
 she would probably have succeeded had it not 
 been for Paxton 's laugh that broke loose suddenly 
 at something Phil Eoche had said. Jule had not 
 heard the remark but Paxton 's laugh was more 
 than she could bear. She stepped quickly from 
 her place of hiding and stood out upon a little 
 moss-covered ledge of rock slightly above them. 
 They did not hear her movements nor did they 
 see her until she spoke.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 203 
 
 "I would have you know you are trespassing 
 on my father 's property, ' ' she said. 
 
 They turned suddenly at the sound of her voice. 
 
 "Oh, good morning, Miss Allen," Paxton re- 
 plied, determined, apparently, to take her words 
 lightly. 
 
 But his greeting only served to kindle Jule's 
 anger the more. She stepped down quickly from 
 where she had addressed them and going up to 
 them faced Paxton, her eyes blazing and her two 
 fists clenched tight at her sides. 
 
 "I don't want your 'good mornings', Mr. Pax- 
 ton," she declared. "You are standing where you 
 have no right to stand without my father's per- 
 
 mission. ' 
 
 Paxton's lips parted in his characteristic smile. 
 
 "We are aware of the fact," he replied, "but 
 now that we're here what's to be done about it?" 
 
 Jule took a step towards him. "You'll go back 
 to where you belong you'll not stay here!" she 
 retorted. 
 
 Paxton turned to Eoche with a look of amused 
 tolerance on his face. Roche's expression did not 
 change. 
 
 "And you'll not touch that waterfall," Jule 
 flashed, going still closer to Paxton and looking 
 at him with her head held high. "It's mine you 
 can't take it you won't, I tell you! You think 
 you can do what you like because he can't help 
 himself. If he can't stop you I will I And I '11 do 
 it my own way but I'll do it!"
 
 204 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Paxton looked at her as she spoke and there 
 dawned gradually in his mind a conviction that 
 Jule Allen meant what she said. He looked at 
 Phil Eoche again and moved uneasily. He could 
 find nothing in Phil 's face, however, to set him at 
 ease. He stepped abruptly past Jule and started 
 off towards the spot where they had left their 
 canoe. 
 
 1 'Come on, Phil," he muttered half to himself, 
 "We've done all we came out for anyhow." 
 
 Phil paused only a moment to look again at Jule 
 Allen and then followed Paxton. Jule did not 
 move from the spot until they had passed out of 
 sight beyond a bend in the creek. Then she turned 
 back towards the trail that led to the cabin. 
 
 She had covered about half the distance from 
 the creek to the trail when she was startled by the 
 sudden appearance of Snap who leaped from the 
 cover of some low bushes and came upon her with- 
 out warning. Instinct prompted her to turn her 
 eyes in the direction from which Snap had come 
 to meet her. As she did so Ruth Mackay's laugh 
 sounded from behind a clump of birches where 
 she had hidden herself from Jule's view. In a mo- 
 ment Euth was beside her. 
 
 "Oh, that was great!" she exclaimed, almost 
 breathless from excitement. "I came just in time 
 to hear it all. If they hadn't gone when they did, 
 I'd have sent Snap in." 
 
 Jule gave Euth a strange look. "I'm glad yon
 
 .THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 205 
 
 didn't, ' ' she said. "It wasn't necessary. We can 
 beat them without dogs." 
 
 ' 'Yes," Kuth persisted, "but wouldn't it be fun 
 to see old Paxton with a dog after him." 
 
 They laughed heartily together at the picture 
 their imagination presented and for a moment 
 Jule forgot her anger. When they had ceased 
 laughing Jule turned again to Kuth and her ex- 
 pression was sober. 
 
 "Joking aside, Ruth," she said with some de- 
 liberateness, "if we ever get into trouble with 
 Paxton you can call Snap to help settle it, but it 
 wouldn't do any good if Phil Roche was there." 
 
 Ruth was in a mood to regard Jule's words 
 lightly. "A dog would bite Phil Roche as quickly 
 ( as anyone else," she said, and there was an odd 
 'expression of coyness in the look she gave Jule 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "Snap wouldn't," Jule replied and although 
 Ruth wondered a little at Jule 's reply there was 
 something in her tone of voice and in her expres- 
 sion when she spoke that made it impossible to 
 pursue the subject any further.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 KIRK stood in the doorway of his cabin, his 
 eyes following the forms of two men who 
 had taken the trail into the woods by the 
 creek. Early that evening he had paid the two 
 men off. Though nothing had been said on the 
 subject, he knew that those two men were on their 
 way to join Paxton's gang. When the men had 
 disappeared among the trees he turned into the 
 cabin and faced Tuck Roberts seriously. 
 
 "We've got to stop this, Tuck," he observed. 
 * ' That makes nine men in the last two weeks, and 
 four of them have gone to work for Paxton." 
 
 "Dags says it's getting worse," Tuck com- 
 mented. 
 
 Kirk thought a moment. "I want you to take 
 a look around the place to-night, Tuck," he said 
 after a moment's silence. "I have an idea there's 
 been something brewing for the last week or so in 
 that bunkhouse at the other end of the row. I'll 
 take a run over to see how old John is 111 be 
 back early." 
 
 Kirk was not groping his way blindly in his ef- 
 forts to find an explanation of the growing dis- 
 content in the camp. The men had been as well 
 fed as men could be, considering all the difficulties 
 
 206
 
 THE LOBSTICK TEAIL 207, 
 
 involved in getting sufficient food into the camp 
 by freight canoes. Their quarters were just as 
 comfortable as those supplied by Paxton for his 
 men. It was a clear case of interference from the 
 outside. Kirk had discharged two men who had 
 lain off work for no apparent cause and had spent 
 the greater part of a week lying around in the dif- 
 ferent bunkhouses and visiting the camp on the 
 other side of the lake. They had gone to work for 
 Paxton and for a while Kirk's men seemed to 
 have settled back again to work. The relief was 
 only temporary, however. In a few days mutter- 
 ings began coming to Kirk's ears again and daily 
 Tuck Roberts and old Dags brought in fresh re- 
 ports of stirring discontent. 
 
 Kirk covered the trail to John Allen's cabin in 
 long resolute strides. During more than three 
 weeks since the old prospector had come home 
 broken from his defeat in the rapids, Kirk had 
 been a frequent visitor at his bedside. His visits 
 had been of necessity brief, but the old man was 
 failing very fast, and Kirk rarely let a day pass 
 without spending a few minutes with him. Jule 
 seldom put in an appearance when he was around 
 and when she did it was usually in the company 
 of Euth Mackay. 
 
 As he came and stood in the open door of the 
 cabin he saw Ruth and Jule sitting back in the 
 shadows in one corner of the large room, very 
 close together. Hearing the voice of John Mackay 
 within, Kirk spoke a word of greeting and then
 
 208 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 went into the room where John Allen lay. For a 
 long time Kirk and John Mackay talked that night, 
 their voices so low that they could hear the heavy 
 breathing of John Allen. The old man himself did 
 not speak but lay for the most part with his eyes 
 closed and his hands motionless at his sides. In 
 spite of his promise to Tuck, Kirk found it impos- 
 sible to hurry away. In the face of John Allen 
 there was something so wistful, so weary, that he 
 could not find it in his heart to leave. 
 
 When at last he got np from his chair and step- 
 ped closer to the side of the bed to bid good-night, 
 John Allen lifted his hand slightly and let it fall 
 again as if the effort was too much for him. Kirk 
 leaned and took his twitching fingers in his hand. 
 As he did so he felt the old man's hand close lin- 
 geringly in a weak grip that plainly expressed 
 what he would have said had he been able to speak 
 the words. A moment later Kirk turned away 
 with a great heaviness at his heart. 
 
 At the door he came upon Jule and Euth stand- 
 ing together in silence, their arms about each 
 other, looking out into the night. Prompted by an 
 impulse of the moment, Kirk paused before Jule 
 and offered her his hand in parting. She re- 
 sponded with a light pressure Off her fingers 
 and Kirk turned away filled with a great tender- 
 ness for the girl who, he felt sure, would soon be 
 alone in the world. 
 
 Tuck was already waiting for him when he got 
 back to the cabin.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 209 
 
 "Well, what's the word?" he asked. 
 
 "Phil has been over since you left," Tuck re- 
 plied. 
 
 Kirk stopped .suddenly and looked at Tuck. 
 "You saw him?" 
 
 "Just as he was leaving." 
 
 "What did he want?" 
 
 "Didn't seem to want much of anything." 
 
 4 1 Didn 't you speak to him ? ' ' 
 
 "He was in his canoe before I caught sight of 
 him." 
 
 Kirk smiled a little. "You've got to hand it to 
 that boy for nerve," he said appreciatively. 
 "Anything else doing?" 
 
 "They're nearly all crowded into the bunkhouse 
 np there," Tuck replied. "There's been trouble 
 of some kind and a fight or two just to sweeten 
 things a little." 
 
 Kirk buttoned his coat about him, pulled his hat 
 down on his head and went to the door. "I'm 
 going to take a stroll up there and see what it's 
 all about. We've got to clean this up." 
 
 Tuck followed him out and together the two 
 took the way that led between the two rows of 
 cabins in which the men were quartered. The 
 doors of the cabins were open and Kirk noticed as 
 they passed that all the houses were empty. As 
 they approached the large bunkhouse at the upper 
 end of the row they caught the sound of the men's 
 voices, half a dozen speaking at once in vain at- 
 tempts to make themselves heard.
 
 210 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Just as they came to the doorway one voice, a 
 little louder than the others, shouted, "To hell 
 with the company ! ' ' 
 
 "Wait," said Kirk, pausing a moment in the 
 darkness outside and laying a hand on Tuck's 
 arm. 
 
 "To hell with Brander !" the same voice shout- 
 ed and Kirk made a bound forward. 
 
 Hurling the door open he stopped on the door- 
 step and looked round at the men. 
 
 "Who says 'To hell with Brander '!" he asked 
 in a voice that broke so suddenly upon the men 
 that they were struck silent. 
 
 A few feet away Kirk noticed one of the men 
 he had paid off that very evening and had seen 
 take the trail towards Paxton's camp. He reached 
 down and seized him by the collar. 
 
 "What are you doing here? " he asked. "I paid 
 you off get out of here !" 
 
 He lurched backwards through the doorway, 
 dragging the fellow with him and almost threw 
 him at Tuck. 
 
 "Here, Tuck," he said, "boot this out of camp." 
 
 Then he stepped back again and faced the men. 
 "Who says, 'To hell with Brander?' he repeated 
 looking down on the men in the dimly lighted in- 
 terior of the cabin. 
 
 There was no immediate reply to his challenge 
 and Bark stepped down from the doorway, moved 
 slowly along the narrow aisle between the bunks 
 where the men were sitting, and paused for a
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 211 
 
 fraction of a second to look each man in the eye as 
 he passed. 
 
 "When he had gone the full length of the cabin 
 he turned and let his eyes move over the whole 
 crowd. 
 
 "Now, what's it all about?" he asked. "If 
 you've any real kick coming on the treatment 
 you're getting here let's have it and get it over 
 with." 
 
 The discussion that ensued 'began slowly at 
 first but before long it became apparent that the 
 men were in two factions. When one man spoke 
 there was someone of the opposing side ready to 
 reply and in less than ten minutes Kirk had all 
 he could do to control the situation so that one 
 man might speak at a time and be heard. At the 
 end of half an hour Kirk had learned all he wanted 
 to know concerning the part Paxton had been tak- 
 ing in creating a feeling of discontent among the 
 men. He brought the discussion suddenly to an 
 end by offering to pay off any who were not satis- 
 fied with the work and the pay they were getting 
 or could find better quarters or food anywhere 
 else. When no one expressed any desire to accept 
 his offer he told them that the work on the Micmac 
 was going to go ahead in spite of the reports that 
 Paxton 's hirelings had circulated to the contrary 
 and that Paxton would be made to tell them a 
 straight story before the night was over, if they 
 would only wait where they were. 
 
 Kirk left the farther end of the aisle and came
 
 212 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 to Tuck where lie stood leaning in the doorway. 
 "Come on, Tuck," he said. "We're going to put 
 a good big crimp in this game." 
 
 He led the way down the hill towards the shore 
 of the lake where the canoes were lying upside 
 down near the water. They slipped a canoe into 
 the water without speaking and pushed away from 
 the shore. When a dozen vigorous strokes of the 
 paddle had sent the canoe darting towards the 
 camp on the other shore, Tuck ventured to ask 
 Kirk what he was going to do. 
 
 "I'm going for Paxton," he said, "and I'm 
 going to bring the old geezer back dead or alive, 
 or you can make arrangements for my funeral. 
 He started this thing and he's going to finish it, 
 only I 'm going to take a hand in telling him how 
 to do it." 
 
 Tuck laughed to himself and sent his paddle into 
 the water with redoubled energy. A little less than 
 ten minutes brought them to the other side of the 
 bay and Kirk got quickly from his place in the bow 
 of the canoe and ran up the narrow path leading 
 into Paxton 's camp. 
 
 When he had gone a few yards he turned to 
 Tuck who was hurrying to overtake him. ' * Stay 
 in the canoe, Tuck, and be ready when I bring him 
 down," he advised. 
 
 When Tuck protested, Kirk laughed. "Don't 
 get worried," he chuckled. "I'm not going to 
 start anything I can't finish. Just wait for me." 
 
 He turned and strode off towards the cabins
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 213 
 
 that stood among the trees some distance from the 
 shore. When he came to the first cabin he recog- 
 nized it as one of the bunkhouses. Looking about 
 him in the darkness he could see the lighted win- 
 dows of the other cabins and for a moment he 
 stood trying to work out for himself the ground 
 plan of the camp. Only a few yards away stood 
 three cabins apart from the others, two of them 
 without any light, the third with a bright light in 
 the window. Instinct prompted him to go and 
 take a closer look at the cabin with the bright 
 light. Something convinced him that Paxton was 
 there. 
 
 Quietly he approached the window and glanced 
 within. Seated at a table, his face turned towards 
 the window through which Kirk was looking, Pax- 
 ton sat, his mind evidently intent upon some 
 papers he had spread out before him. Had he 
 looked up at that moment he would have seen 
 Kirk's face in the bright light from the lamp that 
 stood on the table. Beside him, leaning over his 
 shoulder was a thin, well-dressed man whom Kirk 
 knew as the youth Paxton had brought in from 
 Winnipeg to look after his office and stores. No 
 one else was in the cabin. 
 
 In a moment Kirk was at the door. Lifting the 
 latch quickly he threw the door open and jumping 
 inside closed the door after him. With his back 
 to the door he looked at Paxton who had leaped 
 from his chair at the sudden interruption and was 
 now on his feet, startled and white looking.
 
 214 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "What do you mean by this outrage?" Paxton 
 asked in a voice that was anything but even. 
 
 "I want you, Warren Paxton," Kirk announced 
 directly, "and I want you without anything rough. 
 Put on your hat and coat and come with me." 
 
 " What's the game, young fellow?" he asked, 
 struggling to regain control of his nerves. 
 
 "There's no game at all, except the one you're 
 playing," Kirk replied, "and I'm going to make 
 you play it through. Get into your hat and coat 
 you're going to visit my camp and talk to my 
 men." 
 
 "Not if I know it!" Paxton retorted. "Now 
 you get out!" 
 
 "Are you going to come or " 
 
 "Get out!" 
 
 "You're wasting time, Paxton," Kirk reminded 
 Tiim. 
 
 For reply Paxton turned and leaned above the 
 table, putting his hand out at the same time to- 
 wards a leather holster that hung on a belt from 
 a nail in the wall. With a leap Kirk was beside 
 him. Seizing him round the neck, he drew his arm 
 up so that Paxton 's throat was in the crook of his 
 elbow. At the same moment he seized the clerk 
 with his other hand. 
 
 "Not a word from either of you, now," he 
 warned. 
 
 He knew he had nothing to fear from the youth- 
 ful clerk who had been practically helpless from 
 the first shock of his sudden entrance. Had Pax-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 215 
 
 ton attempted to call for help a little tightening of 
 the arm about his neck would have sufficed. 
 
 "Now we'll go but quietly, and nothing 
 rough," Kirk said in a low voice. "You don't 
 really need your coat it's warm and you won't 
 be long." 
 
 He stooped and blew out the light and then the 
 three moved awkwardly towards the door. When 
 they had got outside Kirk paused a moment and 
 peered about him in the darkness. There was no 
 one in sight. He released Ms hold upon the two 
 men. 
 
 "If either of you makes a false move or 
 speaks," he warned, "well don't do it! Come 
 on." 
 
 With his hands gripping the collars of the two 
 men he faced them towards the lake and urged 
 them forward. Tuck was waiting in the stern of 
 the canoe when they came to the water's edge. 
 Silently Kirk directed Paxton to his place in the 
 middle of the canoe and then spoke to the clerk. 
 
 "We'd take you along too if there was room," 
 he said, "Just wait here till we get away and then 
 you can go on back." 
 
 He put one foot into the canoe and pushed off 
 with the other. As he settled himself and took 
 his paddle, Paxton protested. "Do you think I'm 
 going to submit to this ? " he asked angrily. 
 
 Kirk paid no attention to the question. "If he 
 makes a false move, Tuck," he said without look-
 
 216 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 ing around, " chuck him over. We'll swim for it. 
 Now, dig in ! " 
 
 "This is a damned outrage!'* Paxton muttered, 
 but Kirk and Tuck were fairly lifting the canoe 
 out of the water. 
 
 They found the men waiting for them on the 
 shore when they landed and Kirk lost no time in 
 getting Paxton from the canoe and, with the men 
 following close behind, hurrying him off to the 
 large bunkhouse where only a few minutes before 
 he had been in conference with the malcontents of 
 his gang. Others of the camp hands had gathered 
 during Kirk's absence so that when they had 
 crowded through the doorway there was not a 
 square foot of space left either in the bunks or in 
 the aisle between. 
 
 Helpless to resist, Paxton accepted the inevit- 
 able and although his manner was anything but 
 gracious he made no real attempt to retard the 
 carrying out of the plans that Kirk had laid. Kirk 
 led the way to the farther end of the cabin and 
 getting up on a bench that stood close to the wall, 
 reached down and helped Paxton to get up along- 
 side him. Then he waited while the noise sub- 
 sided. 
 
 "Here," Kirk said at last, "is the man who has 
 been causing all the trouble in camp. I Ve brought 
 him over to clear the air. Let's hurry it along 
 there'll be more to do in a little while when they've 
 had time over there to hear about the kid- 
 napping."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 217 
 
 Kirk's questions followed one another in quick 
 order and Paxton, anxious to get out of his em- 
 barrassing position as quickly as possible gave his 
 replies with a directness and a despatch that sur- 
 prised Kirk. He admitted his responsibility for 
 the reports that had been going the rounds to the 
 effect that Henry Tyne was practically insolvent 
 and would be wrecked financially before another 
 two months. Under pressure he even declared 
 that Henry Tyne and he were competitors in a 
 field where anything was regarded as fair that 
 worked for the other's undoing, so long as it was 
 not outside the law. Then his ill-temper got the 
 better of him. 
 
 "But this kind of thing is outside the law," he 
 stormed, turning to Kirk. "It is rank interfer- 
 ence with a man's personal rights, and I'm going 
 to make you pay for it. It's an outrage of the 
 worst " 
 
 But Kirk had heard all he wished to hear. 
 "Let's get out," he said stepping down from the 
 bench and pulling Paxton after him. 
 
 Paxton 's protests suffered a rude interruption 
 and Kirk hurried him through the crowd and out 
 of the cabin. Outside he found Tuck Roberts 
 waiting for him and beside him old man Dags who 
 had just come up from one of the shafts where he 
 had been at work since early evening. 
 
 "Let me give him another wettin', Kirk," he 
 said as he saw the two emerge from the cabin. 
 
 Kirk hurried down the slope to the lake and in
 
 218 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 another minute they were on their way back again 
 to Paxton 's camp. That the clerk would have lost 
 no time in spreading the news of what had hap- 
 pened, Kirk had no doubt. He knew, moreover, 
 that Eoche would probably act quickly. But Kirk 
 had carried off the whole affair without a mo- 
 ment's interruption and Paxton had played his 
 part with such little hesitation that Eoche would 
 have had barely enough time to get away before 
 Kirk was on his way back. Just now excited 
 voices came from the shore ahead, and the rattle 
 of paddles being thrown into canoes. Kirk lis- 
 tened, without speaking, to the light scraping of 
 a canoe on the ground and the soft swish as it 
 took the water. Some of Paxton 's men, Phil 
 Eoche among them probably, were on their way 
 across the bay. 
 
 The prospect of a fight on the water with the 
 darkness making success depend largely upon 
 chance did not appeal to Kirk, particularly since 
 Paxton 's men were in all probability bringing 
 three or four canoes. Had it been man for man 
 he would have relished the experience for the 
 sheer novelty of it. But with the odds so over- 
 whelmingly against him he decided to curb some- 
 what the spirit of recklessness that had prompted 
 his actions during the past couple of hours and 
 proceed with more caution. 
 
 "More to the right, Tuck," he directed. "Give 
 them room to pass. We don't want to mix it 
 here"
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 219 
 
 Tuck sent the canoe off to the side out of line of 
 the approaching canoes. For a minute or more 
 they paddled very quietly and listened. There 
 were at least three canoes. Gradually they be- 
 came visible, three darker shadows emerging from 
 the pale shadow of sky and water. The men were 
 talking and plying their paddles busily. When 
 they were abreast of the leading canoe, Kirk de- 
 tected Phil Eoche y s voice. Paxton heard it at the 
 same moment and cleared his throat as if prepar- 
 ing to call. 
 
 Kirk turned quickly. * ' You wouldn 't be so fool- 
 ish as that," he said very quietly. "The water's 
 cold and besides you'd never make it from 
 here." 
 
 They stopped paddling until the three canoes 
 were behind them on their left, then they put their 
 paddles into the water again and headed directly 
 for the landing. As they approached the shore 
 they heard the voices of men at the edge of the 
 water. With three canoes filled with men behind 
 them and half Paxton 's gang on the shore ahead 
 of them, Kirk realized suddenly the disadvantage 
 of his position. Paxton, apparently, was as alert 
 to the change in advantage as he. With only a 
 few yards to go he got upon his knees in the 
 canoe and shouted. 
 
 "Hey, you! Phil! Help, here!" 
 
 Kirk lifted his paddle out of the water and 
 swung it round threateningly but he was too late. 
 Already the men on the shore had caught sight of 
 
 (15)
 
 220 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 the approaching canoe and recognized Paxton's 
 voice. Immediately they set up a shouting that 
 could have been heard to the farthest point on the 
 lake. Kirk knew that in a few minutes the three 
 canoes would be back again and escape would be 
 impossible. To throw Paxton into the water and 
 let him make shore as best he could would have 
 been the most gratifying way out of the difficulty. 
 They could then have put off in the darkness and 
 trusted to their paddles. But Paxton's bulk and 
 the unstability of a canoe made such a course 
 practically impossible. Moreover, Paxton would 
 put up a strenuous fight and make any such solu- 
 tion at least difficult. It was, above all, important 
 that they should not lose the use of their canoe if 
 they were to get safely out of the situation. 
 Ahead of them, a crowd of miners made the prob- 
 lem of landing Paxton an extremely difficult one 
 to solve with any hope of getting away again 
 safely. And yet, it was the only course left open. 
 
 With a word to Tuck, Kirk reached out with his 
 paddle and the canoe leaped forward. Paxton 
 continued giving commands to the men on the 
 shore, 'but Kirk gave them no heed. What he had 
 to do now could be accomplished only by giving 
 it his whole attention. Acting on suggestions 
 from Paxton, a half dozen of his men came close 
 to the water's edge to receive the canoe as it ap- 
 proached. Within a few feet of the shore Kirk 
 spoke to Tuck. 
 
 "Drive her!"
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 221 
 
 He put all the strength he had into one stroke of 
 his own paddle then jumping to his feet he swung 
 his paddle about his head. 
 
 "Get back, get back, or 111 knock your brains 
 out ! " he cried and brought the heavy birch paddle 
 round in front of him. 
 
 The men, taken by surprise, fell back in a half 
 circle before Kirk's furious sweeps and kept at a 
 safe distance while Tuck shoved the point of the 
 canoe into the shore. Paxton 's urging had little 
 visible effect. Only one was reckless enough to 
 attempt to get under the paddle and rush in. As 
 he plunged towards the bow of the canoe, Kirk 
 put his foot out and sent him sprawling upon the 
 ground. 
 
 In the meantime Tuck had forced Paxton over 
 the side of the canoe and with the use of his own 
 paddle had sent him wading to the shore. 
 
 "All right," Tuck cried, and Kirk put the point 
 of his paddle against the shore and pushed off. 
 As they turned the canoe about in the water and 
 headed it back towards the camp, Kirk and Tuck 
 heard the voices of Phil Eoche and his men com- 
 ing back. They had had time to cross the bay and 
 come back again. They had probably gone all the 
 way over before the summons shouted by Paxton 
 and the men on shore reached them. From the 
 sound of their voices Kirk judged that they had 
 covered half the distance in return by the time he 
 and Tuck had landed Paxton and were ready to 
 put back.
 
 222 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Taking a course to the left they had paddled 
 along parallel to the shore for a hundred yards or 
 so in the hope that they might give Roche and his 
 men the slip. But Paxton was watching their 
 movements from the shore and although the water 
 was dark, Kirk and Tuck were not far enough out 
 to take full advantage of the cover the night af- 
 forded. Realizing what they were trying to do, 
 Paxton began to shout new directions to Roche. 
 Only a few minutes more, Kirk knew, and the 
 three canoes would be closing in on them. The 
 only possible escape lay in striking out boldly 
 away from the shore until they should get beyond 
 Paxton 's sight. Once they were free from his in- 
 terference they could trust to a chance opening 
 and Break through. If no such opening offered 
 itself they could at least do their best to force 
 Roche and his men to come at them one at a time. 
 
 A half dozen quick strokes brought them out of 
 Paxton 's sight. They knew that from the changed 
 tone of Paxton 's instructions. But almost at the 
 same instant as they gained this advantage, Kirk, 
 from his position in the bow of the canoe, saw the 
 three dark shapes on the water directly ahead of 
 him. They were spread out in a manner that 
 made it practically impossible to get round one 
 end of the line. Confident that they had not been 
 observed as yet, they ceased paddling and watched 
 the movements of the other canoes. They were 
 coming down directly on top of them as if led by 
 some instinct in the darkness.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 223 
 
 the left," Kirk whispered, "and straight 
 
 at 
 
 A shout arose from the other canoes at the first 
 dip of their paddles. They were discovered and 
 would have to fight it out. 
 
 Following Kirk's directions precisely, Tuck 
 kept the canoe pointed straight towards the dark 
 shadow at the extreme left, glancing cautiously 
 from time to time at the movements of the one in 
 the centre and the one on the right. They had 
 already gained some advantage as a result of 
 their greater speed and the decisiveness with 
 which they had moved. So long as they were able 
 to force the fight the others would have to take 
 their positions accordingly. Instead of falling back 
 to give their companions an opportunity of coming 
 around into position to assist, the canoe towards 
 which they were hurrying moved farther away 
 from the centre and widened the gap. For a mo- 
 ment it appeared to Kirk as if the opening would 
 become large enough to give them a chance to 
 break through. But just as he thought of chang- 
 ing his tactics the centre canoe closed in suddenly 
 and the voice of Phil Roche cursed the men in the 
 other canoe and ordered them back. 
 
 But the men in the canoe on the left saw what 
 neither Kirk nor Phil Roche for the moment saw. 
 Behind them and only a few yards away another 
 canoe was coming out of the darkness. Just as 
 Roche swore a second time, KirK saw the canoe 
 with two men in it creeping up gradually into the
 
 224 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 gap. His first thought was that this was a fourth 
 canoe with Paxton's men in it, but Eoche's ex- 
 clamation corrected that impression. Kirk's next 
 guess was correct old Dags was in the stern of 
 the canoe with one of the camp hands in the bow. 
 
 * ' Go on straight ahead ! ' ' Kirk cried to Tuck 
 and the two canoes bore down upon the men on the 
 left with Eoche's canoe following some thirty or 
 forty yards behind. 
 
 Eealizing the difficulty of their position with a 
 canoe attacking them on each flank and Eoche's 
 assistance too far off to be of any immediate value, 
 the men in the canoe towards which Kirk was rac- 
 ing chose a course straight away from the others 
 and began paddling furiously to escape the attack. 
 But Kirk and Dags had gained their full speed 
 before they had decided upon their course of ac- 
 tion. Within a half dozen yards of the mart 
 in the stern of the canoe Kirk sent his paddle down 
 for five or six quick strokes that brought him 
 within reach. There was really no fight to it at 
 all. At the first push from Kirk's paddle the 
 men sprawled over the side of their canoe, their 
 only thought being to extrciate their legs as 
 quickly as possible from beneath the thwarts of 
 the canoe and take to the water with their limbs 
 unhampered. 
 
 Kirk paused long enough to make sure that both 
 men could swim and then turned to face Eoche's 
 canoe. Dags and his companion made the turn at 
 the same moment and their canoes came close
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 225 
 
 enough for them to distinguish each other quite 
 clearly in the darkness. At the sight of the two 
 canoes facing him and ready for action, Roche 
 brought his own canoe to a standstill suddenly 
 and waited for the canoe from behind to come up. 
 The four canoes moved cautiously across the gap 
 that separated them. Kirk and Dags moved apart 
 slowly and their opponents followed their example. 
 There was going to be nothing reckless in this 
 fight. Foot by foot they crept closer, the man in 
 the stern of each canoe doing all the paddling, 
 the men in front waiting with their paddles ready. 
 Dags and his opponents engaged first, but Roche 
 was so close now that Kirk gave the old fellow no 
 attention. Behind Roche sat Joe Bedard whose 
 wizardry as a canoeman Kirk and Tuck both knew 
 only too well. Kirk and Roche knelt close to the 
 bows with their paddle gripped in both hands and 
 resting across the gunwales. The canoes were of 
 the same size and matched well for shape. When 
 the points of the canoes were not more than three 
 feet apart, Roche reached forward and swung his 
 paddle for Kirk's head. Kirk warded the blow 
 with his own paddle and dropping the blade quick- 
 ly, shot it forward towards the nose of Roche's 
 canoe. At the same moment Tuck gave his paddle 
 a vigorous dip and Kirk 'braced himself for the 
 shove. But Roche's paddle swung back and down 
 and Kirk's blow glanced along the side of the 
 canoe. The action had sent both canoes several 
 feet apart and when Kirk and Roche had re-
 
 226 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 covered themselves sufficiently to make another 
 attempt the craft lay side by side so far away 
 from each other that for the next few moments 
 the fight was between Tuck and Joe Bedard for 
 position. 
 
 Once again they came together cautiously and 
 with an air of determination to end the fight. 
 This time the points slipped past each other so 
 closely that the sides of the two canoes rubbed. 
 Tuck and Bedard put all the power of their arms 
 and shoulders into keeping the two canoes to- 
 gether while Kirk and Roche rose up in their 
 places. The first exchanges of blows with the 
 paddles were parried and realizing that they were 
 too close now to use their paddles, the two men 
 lurched over the sides of the canoes, seized each 
 other and clung together in a fierce struggle to 
 drag each other into the water. 
 
 With footing so uncertain the fight could not 
 continue for any great length of time. It might 
 have gone on for minutes, however, for the men 
 were locked so firmly in each other's arms that the 
 canoes were bound together as if they had been 
 roped. But Tuck reached wide and drew his 
 paddle straight towards him from the side. The 
 bow swung out and drove the sharp nose into the 
 side of the other canoe. Flipping his paddle 
 quickly to the other side he drove the canoe for- 
 ward with all his strength. The effect was not 
 great nor was it immediate, but it was sufficient. 
 Realizing what Tuck was doing Kirk struggled to
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 227 
 
 free himself from Roche's grip. Then lurching 
 forward suddenly he threw his whole weight high 
 up against Roche's shoulders. The hold was 
 broken, the balance lost and Roche, his hands 
 sprawling before him went over with the canoe 
 into the water. Tuck gave his paddle a few back- 
 ward strokes and withdrew out of reach of the 
 plunging figures in the water. 
 
 Lying back in the darkness was the canoe with 
 Dags and his companion. A row-boat was already 
 in sight coming to the rescue of Paxton's men. 
 
 "Let's go," said Kirk, and the two canoes shot 
 away in the darkness together leaving Roche and 
 his companions clinging to their canoes. 
 
 For the next few minutes while they paddled 
 to camp they reviewed the events of the evening 
 and laughed heartily over the outcome. 
 
 Standing on the shore Ruth Mackay awaited 
 their return and Kirk felt his heart sink as he 
 realized the meaning of her late visit to the camp. 
 When the canoe had touched the shore he looked 
 up at her without moving and waited for her to 
 speak. 
 
 "John Allen is dead." she announced simply. 
 
 And Kirk who had never known his own father 
 felt something of the pangs of grief he might have 
 felt had he been the son of old John Allen.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 JDLE ALLEN stood in the doorway of her 
 cabin and looked out at the early morning. 
 It was August and the fresh green of the out- 
 of-doors shone in the full glory of sunlight. She 
 loved those summer mornings. They were hers. 
 Sometimes Ruth Mackay came to stay the night 
 with her and then they went together to bathe 
 in the creek in a little hidden place below the falls 
 and romped until noon in the woods or dreamed 
 lazily on the rocks beside the creek. But her 
 mornings were seldom shared even with Ruth, 
 and no one else ever came to the cabin so early in 
 the day. 
 
 She was up even earlier than usual this morn- 
 ing. Some stirring in her veins made her long to 
 be out, to be abroad in her world and to drink in 
 the glory of it. With a word to the Indian woman 
 who had been her sole companion in the cabin since 
 the death of old John Allen, she left the cabin 
 and calling Snap to her, raced off along the path 
 to the top of the rock. Face downwards she lay 
 in the full flood of the sunlight and gazed long at 
 the swirling water breaking against the rocks be- 
 low. A little pathway dropped down from above 
 by slow degrees to the level of the water beneath 
 
 228
 
 THE LOBSTICK; TRAIL 229 
 
 the falls and ran into the hidden corner that held 
 the little eddying pool in which she took her morn- 
 ing plunge. Back a little way from the rock's 
 head, quiet under the soft shadows of the trees 
 that leaned above it was the sacred spot where 
 they had laid her father. Above it, like a great 
 dark sentinel above the falls, stood a lobstick that 
 had been trimmed by John Mackay to mark the 
 place. Jule had grown to look upon the spot now 
 without much sadness. It made her wistful some- 
 times when she thought of the hopes that lay 
 buried there. But she thought with pride of her 
 father's faith in her. 
 
 One thing only disturbed her as she lay and 
 looked at the water tumbling beneath her. Ever 
 since those dark days in June when her father had 
 lingered and gone, Phil Koche had been a frequent 
 visitor in the evenings. Often he had come when 
 Ruth was there, and sometimes Joe Bedard came 
 too. Often, too, whether by design or accident 
 she never knew, Bedard and Euth went off to- 
 gether and she found herself alone with Phil 
 Eoche. She didn't like the idea of Euth's being 
 thrown into the company of Joe Bedard. Once 
 she mentioned it but Euth's black eyes deepened 
 and Jule was reminded again of the mixed blood 
 that flowed in her veins. Her feeling for Phil 
 Eoche, however, caused her much uneasiness. Was 
 she foolish to close her heart to the appeals of a 
 man who, after all, had much that the youth in her 
 admired? He was strong, he was clean and he
 
 230 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 had acted fairly. Not once had he referred to the 
 affair of the previous summer, or showed any hint 
 of his dislike for what she had done. And yet, 
 something was wanting, something too subtle for 
 her power of analysis to discern. Sometimes she 
 had felt that something when she saw Kirk Bran- 
 der going about among his men at the Micmac. 
 But he was of the outside, he was for Marion 
 Curtis and the difficult ways of that other world 
 that she did not know. 
 
 Slowly she crawled forward and allowed her 
 body to slip over the edge of the rock. Laughing 
 at Snap who stood whining above her she let her- 
 self down to a lower ledge. When Snap turned 
 and raced up the shore to where the pathway 
 started down towards the pool, she scrambled 
 quickly from one narrow ledge to another down 
 the face of the rock in a mad race to reach the 
 bottom ahead of Snap. Her pulse bounded with 
 excitement as she heard the dog's bark and she 
 became almost reckless in her haste. Four feet 
 from the pathway that skirted the water's edge 
 she leaped down just as Snap broke round a jut- 
 ting ledge of rock and the two raced along to- 
 gether to the pool. 
 
 Five minutes later she plunged into the eddy 
 and struggled gloriously against the swirling cur- 
 rent. On the rock from which she had taken her 
 plunge, Snap lay stretched out, his front paws al- 
 most touching the water. Fifteen minutes of 
 plunging and laughing and she was out again on
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 231 
 
 the rock beside Snap, shaking her hair free in the 
 morning air. 
 
 When she reached the upper end of the pathway 
 on her way back to the cabin she stopped sudden- 
 ly. Standing in the doorway of the cabin was Kirk 
 Brander, waiting, evidently, for her return. She 
 gathered her hair together in her two hands and 
 shook it free again in the warm sunlight. Then 
 walking slowly towards the cabin she twisted her 
 hair slowly into a knot at the back of her neck 
 where she held it with one hand as she came to 
 the doorway. 
 
 There was something shy, almost self-conscious 
 in her manner that Kirk could not help detect at 
 once. He looked at her and smiled. 
 
 "I like it better the way it was," he said glan- 
 cing at her hair. 
 
 There was no suggestion of familiarity in his 
 voice or manner. He was simply expressing an 
 opinion, quietly and almost without knowing what 
 he did, and Jule was far from feeling any dis- 
 pleasure at his words. A mischievous impulse 
 seized her suddenly and she took her hand from 
 the knot and let her hair fall in -a riotous shower 
 about her shoulders. At the same moment her 
 self-consciousness vanished and she laughed as 
 she stood before him and looked up at his bronzed 
 face and his quiet eyes grown suddenly serious. 
 
 "I thought you were much too busy to visit your 
 neighbors," she said without realizing the full 
 significance of her words.
 
 232 TE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 ' ' During the day yes, ' ' Kirk replied. ' ' In the 
 evenings when I have time, my neighbors haven't 
 any." 
 
 She knew he had Phil Roche in mind as he spoke 
 and wondered vaguely whether he was serious or 
 bantering. When she looked at him, however, his 
 face was very serious. She felt herself prompted 
 to make a mischievous reply. 
 
 "You prefer to do your fighting on water rather 
 than on land," she suggested. 
 
 Kirk's face brightened and he laughed in spite 
 of himself. 
 
 "I don't mind the fighting," he admitted. "I 
 rather like it, in fact, but I like to think there's 
 some chance of winning." 
 
 She walked past him and went into the cabin 
 and Kirk followed her in. He sat down on a small 
 bench beside the door while Jule sat in to the table 
 where her breakfast awaited her. 
 
 1 1 1 'm going to eat my breakfast, ' ' she said, ' ' I 'm 
 as hungry as a wolf." 
 
 "Go ahead," Kirk replied. "I have only a 
 minute to stay anyhow. I had a letter from my 
 uncle in last night's mail and he and Marion Cur- 
 tis are coming to the Micmac for a few days. I 
 really came over to find out if you could put her 
 up here for her stay. "We can look after Henry 
 Tyne all right but we have no accommodation for 
 a lady." 
 
 Jule called to her Indian woman and told her
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 233 
 
 the news. The only response was a smile that 
 spread over her face and a granted, "Huh!" 
 
 "Tell her we'll be pleased to have her come and 
 stay with us as long as she wishes to," Jnle said 
 by way of interpreting her housekeeper's res- 
 ponse. 
 
 "That'll be fine," Kirk replied getting up and 
 moving to go. "We'll make your losses good 
 pay you for broken dishes and so on." 
 
 Jule smiled. ' ' This will be my chance to replace 
 some cracked cups and a chipped saucer or two 
 that I have had for weeks," she said. 
 
 "Your list will be checked over very carefully," 
 he reminded her as he stepped to the doorway. 
 "But I must be getting back." 
 
 "Perhaps we'll see you occasionally when our 
 city visitor comes," Jule remarked pointedly, get- 
 ting up and going to the door. 
 
 There was something in Kirk Brander that al- 
 most angered her. Even when he was joking he 
 seemed casual and disinterested. When he spoke 
 of his work it was as if he had no other care in the 
 world. Instinctively she knew that she could not 
 be casual in her regard for him and it vexed her. 
 
 "The city visitor will not be permitted to inter- 
 fere with my work any more than my my coun- 
 try neighbors," he retorted. 
 
 "It must be wonderful to Have worE of that 
 kind," she smiled. 
 
 Jule knew that she was acting tEe part of a 
 young coquette and yef it pleased her more than
 
 234 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 anything that had ever occurred between her and 
 this strange mixture of seriousness and good 
 humor that she had come to know as Kirk 
 Brander. But if coquetry was pleasing to her it 
 seemed out of place to Kirk. He paid no heed to 
 the little thrust in her last remark. The smile 
 passed from his countenance and he turned to face 
 her squarely. 
 
 " Jule Allen/' he said slowly and in a voice from 
 which all the pleasantry had gone, "I'd like to 
 come here sometime. I'd like to see you and talk 
 to you. It isn't my work that keeps me away. 
 And it isn't our our city visitor. And it isn't 
 Phil Boehe." 
 
 She stood in the doorway looking at him and 
 waiting. Though he paused she did not speak. 
 She felt sure she knew what was in his mind, had 
 been in his mind, in fact, ever since the day they 
 had met on the hillside. 
 
 "And I'm not stubborn," he put in suddenly 
 as if he had forgotten to include it in his last 
 speech. 
 
 "I half believe you are," Jule replied. She suc- 
 ceeded in playing the part she had set out to play 
 but in her heart a vague feeling of resentment was 
 rising. 
 
 Kirk looked from her to the dog that lay a few 
 feet away in the shade of the cabin wall. "I had 
 a friend once, Jule Allen," he said boldly, "the 
 first real friend I ever had in this country and 
 the best friend I ever had anywhere. That dog
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 235 
 
 was his dog," lie said, pointing to Snap. "Some 
 day, when I have found out where you got him, 
 I'll tell you what happened to my friend. I know 
 you don't know anything about it. Once I asked 
 you a question about that dog. Perhaps I should- 
 n't have asked it. I'm not quite sure even yet. 
 But you refused to answer. Well I'm going to 
 find out if it takes five years." 
 
 Jule's eyes had lost all their witchery. In its 
 place were the dark fires mingled of pride and 
 anger. 
 
 ' ' And you '11 never find it out from me never ! ' ' 
 she retorted angrily. 
 
 "Just now I can't feel easy coming over here," 
 Kirk continued. "When I've got that all cleared 
 up, Jule Allen " 
 
 She interrupted him quickly. "I'll ask you to 
 stay away." 
 
 "I'll come anyhow," Kirk replied and his good- 
 humored smile was returning. 
 
 "Then I'll order you off the property." 
 
 Kirk's laugh placed her at a most uncomfort- 
 able disadvantage. ' ' Then I '11 buy the property, ' ' 
 he boasted. 
 
 "You'll not!" she flashed, and turned back into 
 the cabin. 
 
 "Well," Kirk commented, "we certainly seem 
 to hit it off well together whenever we do meet." 
 
 But the door of the cabin closed on his words 
 and he was left alone. For a moment he stood
 
 236 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 smiling to himself and then turned back towards 
 the camp. 
 
 When she was quite sure that Kirk had left, 
 Jnle opened the door of her cabin again and let 
 the sunshine stream in. Before going back to the 
 table she stepped ontside and glanced furtively in 
 the direction of the trail leading to the Micmac. 
 There was no sign of Kirk as far as she could see. 
 When she turned back again into the cabin she 
 felt like laughing to herself. 
 
 She probably would have done eo had not a 
 sharp bark from Snap warned her that someone 
 was coming. Half expecting that Kirk Brander 
 had returned she checked her desire to laugh and 
 assumed as best she could an air of haughty in- 
 difference as she went to the door. Coming down 
 the trail from a little way up the creek were 
 Warren Paxton and Phil Boche. Somehow she 
 resented their coming just then. Paxton she 
 heartily disliked. As for Phil Koche she just 
 didn't want to see him. She turned from the door- 
 way and going back again into the cabin, sat 
 down af the table. She had all the appearance 
 of being very much preoccupied when the shadows 
 of the two men darkened the doorway. 
 
 She looked up and received Paxton 's smile. 
 
 "I hope we are not interrupting so early in 
 the day," he apologized. 
 
 Phil Roche remained in the background and al- 
 lowed Paxton to enter as he spoke. Jule got up 
 and stood beside her chair.
 
 THE LOBSTJCK TRAIL 237 
 
 "I've just finished my breakfast," she ex- 
 claimed. "But it's all right. Yon aren't the first 
 caller IVe had this morning." 
 
 "So?" Paxton raised his eyebrows question- 
 ingly. "We thought we would have the honor of 
 being first on the ground. But sit down, Miss 
 Allen, and go on with your breakfast. Our call is 
 very informal purely business and needn't dis- 
 turb you in the least." 
 
 Jule resumed her seat and continued eating. 
 Paxton chose the small bench on which Kirk had 
 been sitting only a few minutes before, and sat 
 down with his hat in his hand. Phil Koche stood 
 a moment in the doorway and then, entering 
 slowly, sauntered to a seat near Paxton. 
 
 "You won't mind if I talk business while you 
 eat your breakfast, Miss Allen?" Paxton began. 
 
 "Not at all," Jule rVplied rather shortly. There 
 was something so unpleasant in the prospect of 
 hearing Paxton talk business that she could not 
 help her abrupt manner. She had heard him talk 
 business before, had seen him sit in much the same 
 attitude before her father, and had seen her fath- 
 er 's face grow hard as he listened to Paxton 's 
 talk. 
 
 "I have just had word that Henry Tyne is on 
 his way here will arrive in the next day or so, in 
 fact," Paxton informed her. "IVe come over to 
 strike a little bargain with you. Marion Curtis 
 will be with him and together they are going to 
 make another bid for your claims here. I don't
 
 238 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 think there 's any doubt of that. I happen to know 
 pretty well the position Henry Tyne and his as- 
 sociates are facing at the present time. The Mic- 
 mac isn't showing up as they hoped it would. 
 Henry Tyne is going to stake everything on this 
 one throw he won't live long enough to play an- 
 other game of this size. If he gets hold of the 
 White Squaw claims it will help. He's bringing 
 a couple of men with him to make an exhaustive, 
 perhaps a final, report on the showings in the Mic- 
 mac. We happen to know pretty well now what 
 they will report. The last month has shown 
 pretty well where the high grade stuff is going to 
 be found." 
 
 Jule moved a little impatiently. "Perhaps if 
 yon would just tell me " she began. 
 
 "Certainly," Paxton submitted apologetically. 
 "Well, this is my proposition. Tyne and I are in 
 this field because we hope to make money out of it. 
 It's a business proposition, Miss Allen, and com- 
 petition is pretty keen these days. He wants this 
 property so do I. He can't make a bid that I'm 
 not prepared to match. But he may come to you 
 with inducements that I don't know anything 
 about. Contrary to my intentions or wishes in 
 the matter, your father and I had differences. 
 That was unfortunate and I have always regretted 
 it. I regret even more that you should have fallen 
 heir to his resentment for I assure you I harbor 
 nothing of the land. Now, then I have had cer- 
 tain plans in mind for developing water-power on
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 239 
 
 the creek. I did not realize at the time that you 
 had a a kind of sentiment for the falls that made 
 my plans extremely objectionable to you. Here's 
 my proposition, Miss Allen. I realize you will not 
 talk business to me concerning the White Squaw 
 claims. All right. I come now, not to ask any- 
 thing. I want to make you an offer. I shall re- 
 spect your sentiment for the falls in the creek. 
 It may be a little hard to understand but I don't 
 ask you to understand it. I simply respect it. 
 Out of consideration for that sentiment I will 
 leave the falls just as they are as long as you re- 
 fuse to sell to Henry Tyne. Now, I've gone a long 
 way round to give you my offer. But you have it. 
 It's simple enough, surely. "What is your answer?" 
 
 Jule had finished her breakfast while Paxton 
 was speaking. When he ceased she got up from 
 the table and walked thoughtfully to the open 
 doorway and stood in the sunshine. She made a 
 beautiful picture there with her hair loose aboiit 
 her shoulders and the sun flooding it with gold. 
 Paxton waited for her to answer his question. 
 
 When she finally spoke she continued to look out 
 of doors, but her words came slowly and very de- 
 liberately. "When I refuse to sell the White 
 Squaw, Mr. Paxton, " she said, "it will not be 
 because you have it in your power to take away 
 the beauty from the place that has been mine for 
 the best part of my life. The first man who lays 
 a hand on that I believe I'd kill him. If I sell 
 the White Squaw it will be because I want to and
 
 240 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 I'll choose my own buyer. I shall not sell to yon 
 and I shall not sell to Henry Tyne. That much I 
 know now. And I shall not change my mind. ' ' 
 
 "You are your father's daughter," Paxton re- 
 marked, getting up from his seat and preparing 
 to leave. "For the present, at any rate, I can 
 accept that understanding. It is quite agreeable 
 to me." 
 
 Jule stepped out in order to allow Paxton to 
 pass. Phil Roche followed immediately and the 
 two men paused for a moment near the door. 
 
 "I have to go on down and leave a message for 
 John Mackay," Paxton said to Koche. "You can 
 go on back if you like, or wait here until I come 
 back." 
 
 He bowed to Jule and went off along the path- 
 way into the woods, leaving Roche alone with 
 Jule. They exchanged no word until Paxton was 
 out of sight and hearing. Then Roche turned from 
 looking after Paxton and faced Jule suddenly. 
 
 "Brander was here this morning," he said 
 abruptly. 
 
 Jule saw from the expression on his face that 
 he was having a struggle to control himself. Her 
 talk with Paxton had left her in a very serious 
 mood. 
 
 "What of it?" she challenged. 
 
 Roche looked at her for some time before he 
 spoke. 
 
 "I'm goin* to be serious with you, Jule Allen," 
 he said at last.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 241 
 
 Jule turned away impatiently and walked away 
 towards the rock above the falls. Eoche watched 
 her from 'before the cabin, his anger rising as the 
 distance between them grew. He watched Snap 
 get up from his place near the doorway and trot 
 off to join her. Then with a mnttered ejaculation 
 he followed and came behind her where she stood 
 looking from the top of the rock towards the lake 
 shining in the distance. 
 
 "You're goin' to listen to me," he said sudden- 
 ly. "You think I care for these things Paxton 
 and the rest of them? I'm here because you're 
 here because I want to take you away with me. 
 I've waited an' I can wait but I've got to know 
 you're goin' to come." 
 
 There was a note of pleading in his voice that 
 almost touched Jule's heart. She turned to him 
 quietly. 
 
 "But I have told you," she reminded him, "and 
 you know. I can 't help it if if I don 't feel as you 
 want me to." 
 
 "But I could make yon feel " he began to 
 
 protest. 
 
 "No one could do that," she replied. 
 
 Eoche's manner changed instantly. "No?" he 
 retorted. "We'll see. You got away last summer 
 because I let you go. You won't do that again. 
 I'm goin' to stay here until we go away together. 
 An' I'm goin' to teach you to feel the way I want 
 you to feel teach you before someone else 
 starts."
 
 242 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 She moved back from him. " You can't teach me 
 that, Phil Eoche," she said defiantly, "and you 
 know it." 
 
 When he took a step towards her she spoke a 
 word to the dog and seizing him by the collar 
 pulled him towards her and crouched behind him. 
 The dog showed his teeth and Eoche paused. 
 
 "Come another step/' she threatened, "and 
 I '11 let him loose." 
 
 Eoche 's smile was cynical. He stooped a little 
 and put out his hand speaking gently to the dog as 
 he did so. Snap 's ears dropped suddenly and his 
 snarl vanished. Eoche took another step to- 
 wards them. 
 
 "Snap!" Jule cried. 
 
 At once the dog's teeth bared in a white snarl. 
 Again Eoche stopped suddenly. 
 
 "Lie down, you fool!" he commanded and the 
 dog turned its face towards Jule, licking his jaws 
 uneasily and whining. 
 
 For the next few minutes Jule and Eoche bat- 
 tled to control the dog's mood and then, without 
 warning, Eoche stepped suddenly close and hurled 
 the dog to one side. Jule sprang back from him 
 and stood close to the edge of the rock. 
 
 "Come away from there," Eoche ordered. 
 
 But Jule, white with anger, faced him. "Phil 
 Eoche, ' ' she said, ' ' go away from here. Go away ! 
 I'm not afraid of you. I thought you were a man 
 I hoped you had something in you that was 
 straight. But I know I know now." She pointed
 
 THE LOBSTICK TEAIL 243 
 
 at Snap who was standing at Roche's legs.. "You 
 gave me that dog because you couldn't keep him. 
 You stole him I wouldn't believe it, but I know 
 it." 
 
 Roche grinned and looked at her darkly. "So 
 Brander's been talkin'," he said. "Well, we'll 
 fix that/' 
 
 He seized the dog by the collar and lifting him 
 from the ground stepped towards the edge of the 
 rock. Jule's scream awoke the savage instincts 
 in the dog. With a sudden gathering up of his 
 shaggy body and a twisting of his powerful neck 
 he freed himself from the grip that held him and 
 his jaws closed upon Roche's wrist in a vicious 
 snap. With an oath Roche leaped back and the 
 dog dropped to the ground, his angry fangs bared 
 and his hair bristling. 
 
 Jule stepped close to the dog and crouched again 
 behind him, her two hands gripping his collar. 
 
 ' * Go away from here, ' ' she commanded. ' ' You 
 can't frighten us. Go away, or I'll let nim 
 loose!" 
 
 Roche looked at his wounded wrist and laid a 
 hand over it. "Sure, I'll go," he said. "I'll go 
 but I'm comrn' back, and when I do the dog won't 
 count." 
 
 He turned away slowly and took the pathway 
 leading along the creek to where the canoe was 
 waiting close to the water.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AT noon the next day Henry Tyne and 
 Marion Cnrtis arrived. Kirk's first 
 glimpse of his uncle was from the window 
 of the sampling room where, with Tuck Koberts, 
 he was crushing samples from a new body of ore 
 they had drifted into during the week. Henry 
 Tyne, accompanied by the two engineers he had 
 brought in with him, was emerging from the woods 
 along the trail from Ripple Creek. Kirk looked 
 at the approaching figures absent-mindedly a 
 moment, so engrossed was he in the sampling of 
 the new ore, and then suddenly awakening, he 
 dropped the two pans holding the sample he had 
 just divided and ran to the door. From the open 
 doorway he looked down the slope towards the 
 three approaching figures. 
 
 "Here they are, Tuck I" he cried and rushing 
 out, hurried away to meet his uncle. 
 
 Henry Tyne did not appear to recognize Kirk 
 until they had come within a few yards of each 
 other. Then suddenly the old man's face lighted 
 up and he almost ran towards Kirk with both 
 hands outstretched. 
 
 "Oh, you husky young devil!" Henry Tyne 
 
 244
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 245 
 
 panted under the vigorous reception his prodigal 
 ward was giving him. 
 
 But Kirk could say nothing in reply. After the 
 first words of greeting, he held his uncle's hands 
 in his and looked at him without speaking. If 
 five years in the open had meant the storing up of 
 strength and energy in his young frame, they had 
 brought Henry Tyne so close to the end of his 
 physical resources that Kirk scarcely recognized 
 his uncle in the man that stood before him. 
 
 "What have they done to you!" Kirk's heart 
 framed the question a half dozen times as he 
 stood looking at his uncle but he hesitated to put 
 it into words. He heard his uncle's voice intro- 
 ducing the two men who had come to look over the 
 .mine, but he remembered later that the men's 
 voices, even the grip of their hands, had not been 
 sufficient to bring him to himself. He could think 
 only of the old man whose arm he held as they 
 walked together to the camp and of that other 
 man, the man who had sat across from him at the 
 breakfast table five years before. 
 
 "Poor old Unk!" he said aloud as they walked 
 slowly up the hill. 
 
 Henry Tyne smiled a little. "I guess they've 
 mussed me up a bit since you saw me last," he 
 commented. 
 
 "If I'd known," Kirk replied, "I'd have gone 
 back to you long ago. I 'd never have left. ' ' 
 
 "You'd have left, all right, you young hot- 
 head," Henry Tyne protested. "And you'd better
 
 246 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 leave out this eleventh hour seeking forgiveness. 
 It doesn't suit you. Besides, anything that would 
 make a man of you is is worth it. You look like 
 a young giant, Kirk, and God knows you hadn't 
 much to go on. Have you developed any sense 
 with all your muscle." 
 
 Kirk laughed. "Too much ever to take an old 
 man at his word again, " he retorted. "Next time 
 you tell me to get out I '11 stick ! ' ' 
 
 "You thought you were putting one over on the 
 old man, didn't you?" Henry Tyne chuckled. 
 "Well, I hope you've paid for it, you young 
 profligate." 
 
 "I have, Unk," Kirk confessed and they entered 
 Kirk's cabin together. 
 
 They found Dags in the cabin drying his hands 
 in a fbwel as they entered. * ' This is Dags, Unk, ' ' 
 Kirk continued, "my self-appointed guardian." 
 
 The two men shook hands cordially. "Heard of 
 you from Marion Curtis," Henry Tyne said. "I've 
 come up to give you a hand with this young scrub 
 nephew of mine." 
 
 "I wish you'd take the job off my hands," Dags 
 returned. 
 
 "Settle that after you've had something to 
 eat," Kirk interrupted. "There goes the gong." 
 
 "How's every thing in the shafts to-day, Dags?" 
 Kirk asked as they made their way to the cook- 
 house a few minutes later. 
 
 Dags did not reply at once. Kirk glanced at him
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 247 
 
 and caught the half troubled, half -amused ex- 
 pression in his face. 
 
 "Not so good, eh?" 
 
 "Six men stayed in their bunks this morning," 
 Dags announced. "What did turn out would V 
 been better if they 'd stayed in bed. When a man 's 
 drunk he can't do anything, but when he's got a 
 hang-over he 's no good an ' he 's ugly besides. ' ' 
 
 "That's the third time in three weeks," Kirk 
 commented. 
 
 "An' it's goin' to happen again," Dags de- 
 clared, "unless we get the man that's dishin' the 
 stuff out. It sure has some poke to it. For home- 
 brew it's got anything beat I ever saw. They 
 don't get back into shape for three days. Some 
 o' them haven't been real sober for two weeks." 
 
 "And you haven't got a line on who's bringing 
 it in?" 
 
 "Just who don't matter much," Dags replied. 
 "It's bein' made across the lake an' peddled in. 
 We're goin' to have some time gettin' it." 
 
 For an hour or more Kirk and Henry Tyne sat 
 at the table in the cook-house, eating leisurely 
 and giving each other hurried accounts of what 
 had happened during the five years of their 
 reparation. When they left the table they went 
 together to Kirk's cabin and sat down for a half 
 hour of leisure over their pipes. Marion Curtis 
 had stayed at Jule Allen's cabin and although 
 Kirk was anxious to see her, he wished to hear 
 first of all from his uncle's own lips something of
 
 248 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 the condition of their affairs. When Dags had 
 taken the two engineers away with him to visit one 
 of the shafts in which work was going on, Kirk 
 .settled into a chair opposite Henry Tyne and pre- 
 pared to ask the question that was uppermost in 
 his mind at the moment. But his uncle anticipated 
 him. 
 
 "You're wondering just where we stand," he 
 said, half musing as he looked at Kirk and drew 
 slowly at his pipe. 
 
 "Perhaps you'd better not talk much about 
 that, Unk, until you've had a little while to rest," 
 Kirk suggested. "The trip in must have tired 
 you." 
 
 Henry Tyne cleared his voice a little nervously. 
 "It did tire me, Kirk," he admitted, "but not so 
 much as that. You've got to know all there is to 
 know, and I want you to hear it from me. Marion 
 will tell you but there are a few things we might 
 just as well face together." 
 
 Kirk had had an uneasy presentiment for some 
 weeks, a feeling that everything was not well with 
 Henry Tyne. Now, in the tone of his uncle's 
 voice, in the expression of his face, and in the 
 words themselves there was a meaning that made 
 his heart sink. 
 
 "You've done good work here, Kirk," Henry 
 Tyne went on, "good work and work that de- 
 serves to be rewarded with success. But the truth 
 is, the thing is too big for me, it has got beyond 
 me. I've got together just about everything I can,
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 249 
 
 and it isn't enough. It would have been all right if 
 I 'd had the fight in me that I once had. But that 's 
 gone, Kirk, and I may as well admit it to you. 
 P'axton and his gang have closed every door. I Ve 
 banked with old man Wilton, for example, for 
 years. He stood behind me when I hadn't a cent 
 of my own. But we talked together the other day. 
 Wilton's getting on in years. He may be retired 
 any day. And Wilton wants to retire with a clean 
 record. He would advance money on good 
 securities but well, a copper mine that's all 
 under the ground isn't exactly a safe security for 
 a bank manager to work on." 
 
 Henry Tyne paused a minute and puffed slowly 
 at his pipe. 
 
 "And that isn't the only thing, Kirk," he con- 
 tinued. " Paxton 's gang have bought up that ridge 
 at the divide. We must have a railway here if 
 we're going to develop the property at a profit. 
 We can't lug all this stuff out by barge, handle 
 it four or five times and then ship it out to 
 make it pay. The company was ready to 
 begin their survey just as soon as we closed 
 the deal. But they're not going to pay by 
 the square foot for a right-of-way. And Paxton 
 has that staked off in gold claims. The fact is, 
 Paxton has been out for my scalp ever since I 
 cleaned him out in Consolidated Pulp four years 
 ago. He was beaten then and he's been waiting 
 ever since for a chance to even up the score. I'm 
 not squealing it's in the game. He couldn't
 
 250 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 get back at me while I was going strong. He's 
 willing to wait till I'm old and the fight's gone out 
 of me. He's got the idea I'm about ripe enough 
 to drop now anytime! and he's making a big 
 stroke/' 
 
 "Paxton can't put yon out!" Kirk interrupted 
 suddenly. 
 
 Henry Tyne smiled a little. * * Paxton has timed 
 everything pretty well, Kirk," he replied. "He 
 knows I'm done. I 'm up here now to play my last 
 card and he knows that, too." 
 
 "Has Marion Curtis given up, too?" Kirk 
 asked. 
 
 He could not associate any idea of defeat with 
 Marion Curtis. On the other hand, however, he 
 haS never thought of Henry Tyne admitting de- 
 feat. 
 
 "Marion Curtis doesn't tell all she knows," the 
 old man replied. "I believe she has some plans of 
 her own that she wants to try as a last resort. I've 
 come in to see Paxton. If we can meet on some 
 kind of a fair deal, we '11 withdraw and leave him 
 on'the ground. If not it'll be for Marion to fight 
 it out with Paxton. I'll look on." 
 
 "I'll not look on I'll fight!" Kirk protested. 
 
 "I'd like you the better for that, Kirk, if there 
 was any way out of it, or any hope of winning in 
 the end. "What I'd rather see you do would be to 
 leave this God-forsaken place, a thousand miles 
 from nowhere, ano^come out with us. We'll be 
 able to start you at something where you can live
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 251 
 
 like a human being in a civilized community that'll 
 offer a young man a future." 
 
 Some hidden resentment sprang unbidden to the 
 surface as Kirk heard his uncle's description of 
 the country as "God-forsaken." He glanced 
 through the open doorway at the smooth surface 
 of the lake, rimmed with jagged spruce and dotted 
 wfth islands, and above, the clear blue of the after- 
 noon sky flecked with bits of white cloud. Henry 
 Tyne had spoken slander. Kirk forced back the 
 words that came suddenly to mind. He got up 
 from his chair a little impatiently and tapped his 
 pipe lightly on the edge of the stove. 
 
 "There's no accounting for tastes, Unk," he 
 said casually. "Let me take you down and show 
 you over the works." 
 
 They spent the afternoon leisurely going over 
 the property, inspecting the work itself, visiting 
 for a few minutes in the deepest shaft where the 
 water trickled down the walls faintly visible in 
 the light from the little carbide lamps they car- 
 ried. Henry Tyne stood behind the men at their 
 work and listened to the roar of the drill working 
 its way into the solid rock until he felt the chill 
 of the place reaching him through the heavy rub- 
 ber coat Kirk had belted about him before they 
 entered the shaft. Later they walked slowly over 
 the property itself, skirted the lake in one direc- 
 tion and noted the outcroppings of ore, clambered 
 up the hill and rested here and there in the shade 
 jvhile they talked more often about matters pf 
 
 (17)
 
 252 THE LOBSTICK TRAII^ 
 
 purely personal concern than about the enterprise 
 upon which Henry Tyne's last hopes hnng. 
 
 But for both of them that afternoon, the busi- 
 ness of tearing the wealth out of the secret corners 
 of the earth was as nothing compared to the glory 
 of reunion. And that glory for Kirk Brander 
 was touched with deep pity for the worn man who 
 had been his ideal of strength in his younger days ; 
 While the glory for Henry Tyne was heightened 
 with pride for the man that Kirk Brander had 
 become. 
 
 Late that evening Kirk sat beside Marion Curtis 
 on the high rock above the falls. They had left 
 Henry Tyne with Jule Allen and had gone there 
 while it was still light to talk together over what 
 had occurred since their last meeting. Marion had 
 told him the whole story of Henry Tyne's strug- 
 gles against odds that daily had become greater 
 nntil they had been forced, practically to accept 
 defeat. Kirk had told everything of interest that 
 had happened during the summer months and they 
 had finally lapsed into a long silence. 
 
 "But I can't think we're done," Kirk protested, 
 seeking almost despairingly for some ray of hope 
 from Marion Curtis. 
 
 "We're not done no," she replied. "But we 
 can exhaust every remaining possibility by to- 
 morrow night. We must talk to Paxton. Your 
 uncle and you will have to do that. Our friend 
 Warren wouldn't see me for a minute. There's
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 253 
 
 just a possibility of his being willing to meet us 
 half way in a deal to consolidate the two pro- 
 perties. Failing that we can seek an extension of 
 the option with John Mackay." 
 
 "He's been away on another cruise," Kirk 
 interrupted. 
 
 "But he's expected back soon, according to 
 Jule. If John Mackay proves stubborn there 's not 
 much more to it." 
 
 "But there's money in the country it isn't all 
 behind doors that Warren Paxton has locked." 
 
 "There is money, yes, and investors looking 
 for opportunities; but we can't raise capital on 
 the reports we have had to date from the Mic- 
 mac. We've done our best but the prospect isn't 
 rich enough." 
 
 "I believe two more weeks would have done it," 
 Kirk said impatiently. "That new body of ore is 
 starting in just like the old Lucky Strike." 
 
 "Get John Mackay to extend the option another 
 six weeks and there may be a way out," Marion 
 Curtis observed. 
 
 For a moment there was silence again as they 
 sat and thought of the problem they were facing. 
 
 "How about the White Squaw?" Kirk asked. 
 "It should be good for a few thousand." 
 
 "In the first place we'd have to have a few 
 thousand to buy it, and even if we had we couldn't 
 get it." 
 
 "She wouldn't sell to me but has Jule Allen 
 refused to sell to you?"
 
 254 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "Not exactly," Marion Curtis replied evasively. 
 
 ' * Not exactly f What, then f ' ' 
 
 "Jule Allen has sold the White Squaw," she 
 announced. 
 
 Kirk sat np suddenly and looked at her, "Sold 
 the White Squaw? " he exclaimed. 
 
 "It was a secret, but I thought you ought to 
 know. Sooner or later everyone will know about 
 it anyhow. And don't get any foolish ideas in your 
 head, either I didn't buy it." 
 
 "NotPaxton?" 
 
 " I 'd like to know. I tried to find out but Miss 
 Jule keeps her secrets very well." 
 
 Kirk put his head in his hands. "Jove, this is 
 going to be hard to take," he said regretfully. 
 "It'll just about do for Unk. And it's going to 
 take all I've got in me to stand by and see him 
 take it. By gad, I won't do it either ! Something's 
 got to break!" 
 
 "Kirk Brander," said Marion Curtis pensively, 
 "you'll never know what this is costing me. I'm 
 not afraid of being beaten. I have been beaten 
 before. But sometimes we have dreams that mean 
 as much to us as life itself. I'm going to tell you 
 now what you will know sooner or later anyhow. 
 I dreamed of putting this thing over in a big way 
 partly for the satisfaction of beating a man who 
 has been out to beat me ever since I have known 
 him; partly, too, for Henry Tyne, one of the very 
 few men I have known who play the business game 
 clean and above the table all the time. But most
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 255 
 
 of all I wanted the satisfaction of doing something 
 really big in a big way to prove to myself that 
 I still had the power I once had " 
 
 She hesitated and looked down at the water 
 rushing over the rocks in the rapids. Kirk waited, 
 not knowing whether to speak or remain silent. 
 
 ' ' Oh, don 't yon see ? " she broke ont finally. ' ' I 
 have not come here for this success is nothing 
 money doesn't mean anything. What does a wo- 
 man want with all this this scrambling after dol- 
 lars? There's only one failure in the life of any 
 woman only one defeat and I I can't bah!" 
 
 She ceased speaking suddenly and got to her 
 feet. For a moment she stood looking at the 
 rapids, her hands clasped tightly before her. Then 
 turning abruptly, she started down the path. 
 
 "Let's go in," she said. 
 
 Kirk got np and followed her down the path to 
 the door of the cabin without speaking. When 
 they opened the door and entered the cabin they 
 found Henry Tyne and Jule Allen sitting close to 
 each other by the table. Before them, lying open 
 on the table, was a large catalogue with pictures 
 of a score of varieties of perennial blooms. As 
 Jule looked up the light from the lamp fell full 
 upon Her face and Kirk saw there an expression 
 that he had not seen since the days when she used 
 to sit beside her father. 
 
 "I'm choosing my next year's flowers," she 
 said cheerfully as Marion Curtis came to her and 
 looked over her shoulder.
 
 256 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "By Jove, she's going to make a gardener out 
 of me," Henry Tyne laughed. 
 
 Then the girl and the old man langhed together 
 as heartily as if they had known each other for 
 years. 
 
 When Henry Tyne and Kirk left the cabin a 
 few minntes later, Jnle Allen went to the door and 
 stepped outside to bid them good-night. Kirk 
 paused a moment while his uncle went on. 
 
 "Your secret is out, Jule Allen," Kirk accosted 
 her suddenly. ' * The White Squaw " 
 
 ft lt was no secret," she protested. "You might 
 have known a week ago if you had asked me." 
 
 Kirk smiled at her pretty deception. "There's 
 one consolation you can't order me off the pro- 
 perty, anyhow." 
 
 "I istill have my rights as tenant," she count- 
 ered. 
 
 Kirk turned away. "Look out," he warned. 
 "I'm going to turn outlaw one of these days! 
 Coming, Unk!" 
 
 He hurried off to join Henry Tyne awaiting 
 him where the trail turned into the woods.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 * AELY the next morning Warren K. Paxton 
 sat in the little cabin that did service as an 
 office in his camp. Paxton was in good spirits 
 better spirits than usual. The world without was 
 steeped in August sunshine but even if the skies 
 had been gray, Paxton 's optimistic mood would 
 have been sufficient to spread the place with good 
 cheer. When a man sees his fondest dreams being 
 realized before his very eyes he has cause to be 
 happy. The arrival of Henry Tyne the day be- 
 fore was the first scene in the closing act of the 
 drama in which he was playing an important role. 
 In three weeks or less the curtain would go down 
 on Henry Tyne and his business associates and 
 Warren K. Paxton could write the moral to the 
 story. 
 
 The fact that John Mackay had been absent for 
 several days, with no word of his whereabouts and 
 no certainty as to when he should return, gave 
 Paxton cause for further satisfaction. Every 
 day that passed now was a day lost to Henry 
 Tyne. The last day of August would bring Tyne 's 
 option on the Micmac to an end, and with less than 
 three weeks to go, Paxton could wait. He was 
 ready to act when the day and the hour arrived. 
 
 257
 
 258 .THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "If we could only keep John Mack'ay out of the 
 way for a few days longer," he thought to him- 
 self, "it would help to wear Henry down. Poor 
 old Henry never was much good at waiting. That 
 was his chief fault. ' ' 
 
 His mind took a sudden turn in another direc- 
 tion. Coming up the pathway from the creek was 
 Jule Allen, walking alone and with very resolute 
 step. Almost unconsciously he 'brushed his 
 clothes quickly with his hand, straightened his 
 vest and the collar of his coat and became very 
 busy with the papers that lay on his table. He 
 did not look up again until the girl's shadow 
 darkened the doorway. 
 
 He greeted her with his thin smile and Jule 
 came towards the table. 
 
 "Can I see you alone for a few minutes, Mr. 
 Paxton?" she asked and her manner was very 
 direct and impersonal. 
 
 "Sit down," he replied going for a chair and 
 placing it near his table. "We '11 not be disturbed 
 here." 
 
 "I have come to talk business with you, Mr. 1 
 Paxton," Jule proceeded. "It's about the water 
 power and Mr. Tyne." 
 
 Paxton placed the fingers of his two hands to- 1 
 gether very thoughtfully and looked at her with 
 searching eyes. He did not know whether to be 
 suspicious or not. 
 
 "Yes!" he prompted when she paused a mom- 
 ent.
 
 THE LOBST1CK TRAIL 259 
 
 Jule looked up at him, her eyes gazing straight 
 into his. "One man already has been broken and 
 laid away, Mr. Paxton, because because men in 
 a fight never know when to quit. I'm not going 
 to blame anyone for my father's death, Mr. Pax- 
 ton. Don't misunderstand me. He may have 
 been as much to blame for it "himself as anyone 
 else. He never would give in. " 
 
 She paused and Paxton nodded his head slowly 
 as if assenting in a general way to what she had 
 said. 
 
 "But I don't think it should have been neces- 
 sary," Jule went on. "There should have been 
 some way for my father and you and others to 
 work together." 
 
 Again Paxtpn nodded his head slowly. 
 
 "I've come to tell you that another man is going 
 to be broken in the same way and to tell you that 
 it isn't right. I never saw Mr. Tyne until yester- 
 day. I thought he was strong and like you. But 
 he isn't. He can't fight any more. He's like my 
 father was when he came home after losing every- 
 thing in the rapids. He can't go on if he has to 
 fight his way through." 
 
 She paused and looked away a moment before 
 she continued. 
 
 "And I've come," she said at last in a voice 
 that was very much softer, "I've come to ask you 
 something. Isn't there room enough here for us 
 all"? Can't we work together and live together 
 and and make it pay?"
 
 260 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Her last words seemed pathetically weak but 
 she waited, nevertheless, to see what response 
 Paxton would make. 
 
 "I'm afraid you don't understand, Miss Allen," 
 he began. 
 
 "I do understand," she protested. "I under- 
 stand all there is that's worth understanding 
 about it. I understand he wants to beat you and 
 I understand you want to beat him." 
 
 Paxton laughed lightly. "Well that's putting 
 it in very simple language, Miss Allen," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Well, isn't there room for both of you if you 
 only thought so ? " she urged. 
 
 "The difficulty is in getting people to think so," 
 Paxton explained. 
 
 "Mr. Tyne thinks so now." 
 
 Paxton laughed aloud. "I know he does, but 
 he didn't think so three months ago." 
 
 "Well, I want to propose something," Jule 
 said without attempting to reply to Paxton 's 
 observation. " You came to me only a few days ago 
 about the water power on Kipple Creek. You said 
 you would respect my wishes regarding the 
 rapids. I'm afraid I wasn't very nice about it, but 
 I couldn't think of anyone spoiling the most 
 beautiful thing I have ever known. And I wouldn't 
 have let you do it, in spite of your lease and law 
 and everything. But I have changed my mind. I 
 know you will think it isn't in my power to change 
 your plans, But anyhow I'll be willing to see
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 261 
 
 anything done to the rapids and I won't say a 
 word if you'll leave Henry Tyne free if you'll 
 be content to do your work here and let him do his 
 over there. That's my business, Mr. Paxton." 
 
 Paxton turned to her with his most patronizing 
 air. "My dear Miss Allen, you should not call 
 this business. It isn't business. It's sentiment, 
 and the two don't mix." 
 
 Jule's eyes deepened and her lips tightened as 
 she listened to him. 
 
 "I don't think it is good business, in this case, 
 for you to say that to me." 
 
 "I was merely expressing my opinion an 
 opinion I have formed after years in the world of 
 business." 
 
 She got up abruptly and turned to go. "I had 
 thought that even in the business world men would 
 listen to what was reasonable." 
 
 Through the window of his cabin Paxton caught 
 the reflection of the sun glancing from a wet pad- 
 dle. Lifting his head he peered in the direction 
 of the bay. Two men were approaching the land- 
 ing just below the slope on which Paxton 's camp 
 stood. 
 
 "Here's Tyne now," Paxton announced and 
 Jule paused only long enough to glance towards 
 the bay before hurrying out of the office. 
 
 "You will at least not tell them I have been 
 here," she requested and was gone before he had 
 time to make reply. 
 
 Paxton may be forgiven for the feeling of
 
 262 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 nervousness he experienced as he turned again 
 and busied himself with the papers scattered about 
 on his table. He had looked forward to this 
 moment for months and had often wondered just 
 where and under what circumstances the big event 
 of his business career should occur. 
 
 He looked up at the sound of Kirk Brander's 
 voice in the doorway. With all the dignity the oc- 
 casion seemed to call for and with much more 
 show of cordiality than it warranted, he got to his 
 feet and, disregarding Kirk, advanced to meet 
 Henry Tyne, offering his hand in greeting. Tyne 
 accepted the hand with a word of quiet greeting 
 and taking off his hat went to the chair that Jule 
 had vacated only a few minutes previously. Kirk 
 sat on a bench not far from the doorway where 
 he could see the faces of both Paxton and his 
 uncle. 
 
 Henry Tyne lost no time in getting to the busi- 
 ness of his visit. 
 
 ''I'll not take your time, "Warren," he said in 
 the manner and tone of voice he had used for 
 years whenever he had talked to Paxton. 
 
 "We're never rushed in this country," Paxton 
 smiled. 
 
 "Well, an unpleasant task is best over with," 
 Tyne replied. "Besides, Kirk, here, has to get 
 back to the mine." 
 
 He cleared his voice and straightened up in his 
 chair. ' ' You seel Ve come to you at last, ' ' he pro-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 263 
 
 ceeded. ' ' One of us had to come sooner or later. 
 I guess it's my turn this time." 
 
 "I've done my share of it, Henry," Paxton re- 
 plied, and for a moment it was as if the two men 
 had met to settle a little wager on a friendly game. 
 
 "There's no use trying to conceal anything," 
 Tyne continued. "We have known pretty well 
 where we stood all along. I could have swung 
 this ten years ago and five men of your size, War- 
 ren, couldn't have stopped me. But when a man 
 has had his day, he's done. You'll have yours 
 just like the rest of us." 
 
 Paxton stroked his chin slowly in contemplation 
 of Tyne 's remark, but he offered no reply. 
 
 "I've come all the way in here to see if I 
 could save some of the pieces. I had a talk with 
 Bradley and Collins before I left and one or two 
 of the others. It's all in your hands, Warren 
 just where you wanted it. It looks as if I'm going 
 to have to pull out and leave the field to you. I'm 
 going to make no bones about it. If I'm forced to 
 quit I 'm practically cleaned out. I 'm not whining 
 about it. I'm simply telling you what's true. If 
 we can reach some sort of understanding I may 
 make it go even yet." 
 
 Paxton shook his head. ' 'It can 't be made to go, 
 Henry," he protested, "unless the whole property 
 is worked as one. There isn 't enough ore in either 
 mine to make it worth while. I didn't know that 
 when I started work here or I wouldn't liave spent 
 a dollar on the place. The grade is low and the
 
 264 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 whole body can be run ont in ten years. With 
 our problem of transportation it would be a dead 
 loss. There's only one possible way out, and I 
 think you know what it is. Our two properties 
 and the White Squaw claims must be consolidated 
 under one company." 
 
 "That's really my proposition, Warren," Tyne 
 put in suddenly. "I'll admit I'm trying to save 
 my own scalp when I make the suggestion but I'm 
 here to work out a basis on which we can con- 
 solidate our interests and work the two pro- 
 perties as one." 
 
 "That might have been possible six months 
 ago," Paxton remarked. 
 
 "What's the barrier now?" 
 
 "The usual thing, I suppose. You entered the 
 field as a competitor without any warning. ' ' 
 
 "I couldn't have got in any other way," Tyne 
 explained. 
 
 "That's true, but it doesn't alter the fact that 
 we have lost practically a year and a few thous- 
 and of valuable capital besides as a result of the 
 competition. When you consider, in addition to 
 that fact, that we are on the eve of taking the 
 Micmac over anyhow we 're prepared to go ahead 
 where you leave off your plan wouldn't improve 
 our position. I don't think you would get them to 
 listen to the suggestion." 
 
 "You mean, of course, I can't get you to listen 
 to the suggestion, ' ' Tyne corrected.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 265 
 
 "You can be very outspoken sometimes/' Pax- 
 ton smiled. 
 
 Paxton 's air of condescension was so apparent 
 that Kirk Brander, sitting a few feet away, felt it 
 difficult to control himself. It became even more 
 difficult when Paxton turned his thin smile to- 
 wards Kirk as if he wished to tell him that at last 
 he was beginning to make good his boast. But 
 when Henry Tyne, unable to say more, got up 
 from his chair and looked about him in a be- 
 wildered fashion as if he did not know the way to 
 the door, Kirk sprang to his feet and faced Pax- 
 ton, leaning towards him with his two hands be- 
 fore him on the table. 
 
 "Then perhaps you'll listen to this suggestion," 
 he said, bringing his face down close to Paxton 's. 
 "You think you're going to put this over because 
 Henry Tyne is done. Well, listen to this, Warren 
 K. Paxton. I've been developing a hunch for about 
 two weeks. Now I'm going to play it. Before an- 
 other week Henry Tyne will show you some of his 
 old form. By the first of September he'll tell yon 
 to go to hell. I'll not say any more just now ex- 
 cept this keep that bootlegging gang of yours out 
 of my camp or I'll drown them in the lake. Do 
 you get that?" 
 
 Paxton sniffed a little and moved to get p. 
 
 "Do you get that?" Kirk repeated and leaned 
 so close that Paxton settled back again into his 
 chair. 
 
 "I think Warren got that, all right," Henry
 
 266 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Tyne observed in a tone that expressed much of 
 the enjoyment he was getting from the situation. 
 
 "Come on, Unk," said Kirk, turning quickly 
 and pulling his hat down on his head. " Let's get 
 out we're busy." 
 
 A few minutes later Phil Roche, having by 
 chance seen Kirk and Henry Tyne on their way 
 back across the bay, came into the office to learn 
 the outcome of their visit. 
 
 Paxton looked up at him as he entered. "It 
 looks as if they have struck it," he remarked, in 
 answer to Roche's questioning look. 
 
 "Struck it?" 
 
 ' ' The high grade stuff, ' ' Paxton explained. ' ' I 
 always knew they'd come to it if they had long 
 enough to do it. Brander gave a hint. ' ' 
 
 "Are you sure they're into it? Brander may 
 be bluffin'." 
 
 Paxton sniffed a little. 
 
 "We'd better play him the same as if he held 
 the highest hand in the deck," he advised.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 PAXTON'S gness was not far from the point. 
 At a depth of two hundred feet Kirk's men 
 had drifted into a new body of ore that early 
 promised to equal the high grade of the Lncky 
 Strike. Day after day, and night after night Kirk 
 followed the process of uncovering the new vein 
 and sampled the rich ore frequently. With Henry 
 Tyne and Marion Curtis he went over the results 
 of each day's drilling and with the help of the 
 two visiting engineers made rough estimates based 
 upon the showings of the day. 
 
 "There's nothing to it," Kirk exclaimed one 
 evening as he looked at a half dozen flakes of free 
 copper that lay on the table before him. "We've 
 got it here and you can tell the world whenever 
 you feel like it." 
 
 "Two weeks is a short time to tell the world 
 about it and get results that will be worth any- 
 thing to us," Henry Tyne observed. 
 
 "Two weeks is long enough to make a try," 
 Marion Curtis commented. "I'd have a whole 
 week in Winnipeg." 
 
 "It isn't much," Tyne observed. 
 
 "A week is a week," Marion Curtis declared. 
 "I'm going to leave in the morning." 
 
 267 
 
 (18)
 
 268 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "I'll send Tuck out with you," Kirk suggested. 
 ''We'll keep Unk here to talk to John Mackay 
 when he gets back. If he gets tired sitting around 
 we'll give him a day now and then with the 
 muckers." 
 
 Marion left immediately for Jule Allen's cabin, 
 Kirk accompanying her. As they passed the door 
 of the sampling room Kirk paused a moment be- 
 fore the open doorway to speak to Tuck Roberts. 
 
 "You'd better get on in and have a little sleep, 
 Tuck," he said. "I want you to go to The Pas in 
 the morning. Don't bother going down the shaft 
 to-night. Ill go down and look things over myself 
 on 'the way back. ' ' 
 
 Tuck received the announcement without com- 
 ment and prepared at once to leave the work he 
 was doing. And as they walked along in the dark- 
 ness, Kirk and Marion Curtis hurriedly arranged 
 the details of the plans which the new discovery 
 had set into motion. Kirk paused at the door of 
 the cabin and took his leave hurriedly in order to 
 get back again to the mine for an hour with Dags 
 before turning in for the night. 
 
 "You'll be back again in two weeks," Kirk 
 said, shaking hands with her when he was ready 
 to leave, 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "and, by George, this thing 
 is going to go over!" 
 
 They shook hands and Kirk strode towards the 
 
 As he approached the door of the engine-house
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 269 
 
 someone came out suddenly and disappeared in 
 the darkness. Kirk paused for a moment and then 
 entered. He took his rubber coat from the wall and 
 belting it round him, took down a carbide lamp 
 from a shelf, shook it once, and lighted it. No 
 one was about at the moment and he stepped 
 through the small doorway into the outer shed 
 that stood above Shaft Number One. It did not 
 occur to him as strange that neither Dags nor the 
 hoist man was anywhere in sight. It was already 
 past midnight and the men were probably resting 
 somewhere during the hour 'a recess. But he 
 could not help feeling a little curious about the 
 figure he had merely had a glimpse of as he en- 
 tered the engine-house. 
 
 "Without waiting to be lowered mto the shaft, 
 he turned the little pencil of flame from his car- 
 bide lamp towards the square timbered hole in the 
 ground. The water on the rungs of the ladder 
 glistened faintly in the light. Slowly he made his 
 way down the shaft, his feet feeling for the slip- 
 pery rungs in the darkness. As the light from his 
 lamp dimmed he shook it until the flame spurted 
 brightly and lighted up the wet glistening walls of 
 the shaft. As he descended the sound of water 
 trickling down the walls grew more distinct. 
 
 When he came to the last rung of the ladder 
 he put one foot down in the darkness and felt for 
 the bottom of the shaft. He touched water and 
 withdrawing his foot again, shook his lamp and 
 held it beneath him, A pool of black water sev-
 
 270 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 eral inches deep filled the depression in the rock 
 where the shaft ended. The heavy steel 'bucket 
 stood nearly half submerged and empty at the end 
 of its cable. Close to the shaft stood an ore car 
 with no ore in it. 
 
 "Jove, you'd think these fellows had gone off 
 on a week's vacation," he muttered to himself. 
 
 Then suddenly it struck him that the place was 
 unusually quiet. "What's the matter?" he said 
 aloud. "The pumps aren't working." 
 
 He heard the voices of the men at the far end of 
 the tunnel. Placing a foot on the edge of the big 
 steel bucket and seizing the cable to steady him- 
 self, he leaped across the shaft and landed on solid 
 footing between the rails. Giving his lamp another 
 shake he started off along the narrow track, his 
 eyes peering before him into the pitchy blackness 
 of underground. A hundred feet or so from the 
 shaft he saw a point of light approaching him out 
 of the darkness ahead. It was coming very quick- 
 ly and Kirk's ears caught the sound of running 
 feet clumsily stumbling over the uneven floor of 
 the tunnel. The light from his own lamp was very 
 low. He shook it again gently, then violently 
 the pencil of flame shortened to a mere point and 
 went out. He gave the little wheel at the side of 
 the reflector a sharp turn. A little shower of 
 sparks flew from the flint but there was no light. 
 Again he shook the lamp, holding it close to his 
 ear. 
 
 "Hang it it's empty!" he muttered.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 271 
 
 He looked again towards the point of light com- 
 ing towards him. It was only a few yards away, 
 its bearer stumbling forward in clumsy haste. 
 
 "Hello," Kirk called. "What's the hurry?" 
 
 The point of light stopped suddenly. Then as 
 Kirk moved forward it moved slowly, cautiously, 
 Kirk thought, to one side. Suddenly it went out 
 and they were in pitchy darkness. To Kirk's 
 challenging question there came no reply. He 
 moved back a little on the defensive. Away at the 
 other end of the tunnel four or five pin-points of 
 light moved about against the blackness. Though 
 the lights were almost invisible, nothing could 
 pass between them and Kirk without being dis- 
 covered. He crouched low against one wall, hug- 
 ging the jagged angles of slimy rock in an effort 
 to get a glimpse of the man who was using the 
 darkness of the tunnel to hide his identity. 
 
 He had waited less than a minute when the 
 points of light were shut from his view. From the 
 suddenness with which all the lights vanished 
 at once he knew the obstruction was very close. 
 Suddenly a bit of rock clanked lightly against the 
 steel rail of the track that ran along the floor of 
 the tunnel. The noise sounded not more than three 
 or four feet away. With a bound forward Kirk 
 threw his arms out before him ready to seize 
 whatever they encountered or to defend himself 
 against any attack. For a fraction of a second 
 he had the feeling ol throwing himself over the 
 side of a precipice, on the mere chance of coining
 
 272 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 to rest in a tree just a few feet over the edge. 
 Then, even before he expected it, his rush was 
 stopped suddenly and the next moment he was 
 grappling blindly with an opponent whose awk- 
 ward strength and sheer desperation gave Kirk 
 all he could do to keep the advantage he had 
 gained in the first shock of his attack. After a 
 brief moment of uncertainty, however, Kirk 
 secured a hold about the man's waist and by sheer 
 strength of muscle bent him backwards until he 
 relaxed and went down. Holding him with both 
 hands Kirk felt around in the darkness with his 
 two feet for the carbide lamp his antagonist had 
 dropped. When ho encountered it only a few feet 
 away he reached for it with one hand, shook it a 
 little and gave the little wheel a quick turn. The 
 tiny flame shot from the lamp suddenly and Kirk 
 turned the light on the face of the man beneath 
 him. It was Joe Bedard. 
 
 "Without speaking Kirk got up and dragged the 
 half-breed to his feet. His eyes were half closed 
 and his expression was that of a man in a half 
 stupor. From somewhere above his forehead a 
 stream of blood ran from under his hair and down 
 his face. He looked stupidly at Kirk for a moment 
 and then put out his hands as if to save himself 
 from falling. Eealizing that Bedard was prob- 
 ably badly hurt Kirk put one arm about him to 
 steady him. The haL'-breed relaxed eickerifngly 
 and would have gone to the ground had Kirk not 
 kept him on his feet.
 
 THE JjOBSTICK TRAIL 273 
 
 "What's the matter, Joe?" he asked, but Be- 
 dard offered no word of reply. 
 
 "Jove, you've got yours somewhere," he re- 
 marked to himself. 
 
 Then suddenly he was aware of the voice of old 
 Dags, lifted in lurid profanity as he came down 
 the tunnel, lamp in hand, driving a couple of men 
 before him. Kirk turned and held his light towards 
 Dags. The effect was to heighten the old man's 
 anger. When Kirk held the lamp high so as to 
 throw the light on his own face Dags halted sud- 
 denly and commanded his two prisoners to do like- 
 wise. 
 
 "Take these bums out o' here an' throw them 
 into the lake," he said as he recognized Kirk. 
 Then as his eyes fell upon Joe Bedard he rushed 
 towards him. * ' There you are, you half-caste son 
 of a dog!" he cried and Kirk had all he could do 
 to keep Bedard on his feet and hold Dags off. 
 
 "Just a minute, Dagsie," he protested, "he's 
 all in can't stand on his own feet." 
 
 "Take him out and throw him into the lake," 
 Dags persisted. 
 
 "What's the matter, Dagsie?" Kirk asked, still 
 holding him away from Bedard. 
 
 "Matter?" roared Dags. "The bootleggin' 
 mongrels stopped the works knocked the whole 
 shift cold two of 'em got away Phil Roche an' 
 that " 
 
 He broke off suddenly and made a desperate 
 attempt to get at Bedard. But Kirk swung Bedard
 
 274 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 out of the way and stood between him and Dags. 
 
 "You've done enough for now," Kirk said 
 quietly. "We don't want to kill him I'm going 
 to use him if he gets his senses back. ' ' 
 
 Dags caught a glimpse of the half-breed's face 
 marked with its stream of blood. 
 
 ' * Holy mackinaw ! " he exclaimed. * ' You pretty 
 near fixed him, eh?" 
 
 "I did?" Kirk asked in surprise. 
 
 "Yes look!" 
 
 Kirk looked at Dags in surprise. "I didn't do 
 that," he said. "I thought you " 
 
 "Who hit you?" Dags interrupted, addressing 
 Bedard suddenly. 
 
 But Joe Bedard drew his grimy hand across 
 his face and laid his fingers over the wound in his 
 scalp and remained silent. 
 
 "Let's get them out of here," Kirk said leading 
 the way and taking Bedard along with him. 
 "Come along, Joe, you're going to stay with me 
 for a few days. " 
 
 Bedard offered no protest but shuffled along 
 willingly enough behind Kirk. The two miners 
 followed, Dags bringing up the rear 
 
 "But where in blazes is Tuck?" Dags asked as 
 they filed down the tunnel. "Isn't he workin' 
 here anymore?" 
 
 "I took him off to-night," Kirk replied briefly. 
 * l Special duty, Dags. ' ' 
 
 Dags grunted. "He picked a fine night for 
 special dutyiny he growled.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THEY made their way slowly up the long lad- 
 ders to the top of the shaft, resting here 
 and there on the way to give Bedard an 
 opportunity to gather strength enough to con- 
 tinue the climb. Although the half-breed pre- 
 served complete silence before their questionings 
 and offered no voluntary word of his own to ac- 
 count for his battered condition, it was quite ap- 
 parent that it required all the remaining strength 
 he could command to get to the top of the shaft. 
 More than once Kirk had to assist him and their 
 pauseis for rest were frequent and sometimes 
 lengthy. 
 
 "When they finally stepped one after another in- 
 to the boiler room and came out into the light 
 from one of the large lamps, Kirk left Dags to 
 look after the two miners for a moment while he 
 led Bedard into the best light the place afforded 
 and, parting the matted black hair very carefully, 
 examined the wound. 
 
 " Jove, this will have to get attention for a few 
 days," he remarked as he looked closely at the 
 ugly gash from which the blood flowed freely. 
 
 Then he stepped back and looked at Bedard, 
 
 275
 
 276 THE LOBSTICK TRAJL 
 
 holding him at arm's length with his two hands on 
 his shoulders. 
 
 Again Bedard 's silence greeted Kirk's question 
 and his face was as expressionless as if he had not 
 heard his voice. 
 
 "Phil Eoche did it!" Dags snapped angrily. 
 " Joe knows that and I know it." 
 
 "Did Eoche hit you!" Kirk asked. 
 
 But the half-breed's silence remained un- 
 broken. Only this time his face twitched slightly 
 as from the pain in the wound and he turned about 
 in a dazed manner as if looking for an opportunity 
 to get out into the air. 
 
 "You're going to stay with me for a few days," 
 Kirk said taking his arm and going towards the 
 door. "Come on, Dags. We'll go up to the office 
 and straighten things out a little." 
 
 They climbed the trail from the engine-house to 
 the cabins on the ridge above, Kirk supporting 
 Bedard with the help of one of the miners. When 
 they had laid the half-breed on a mattress, Kirk 
 gave him a cup of water and then turned to the 
 two miners. 
 
 "You two fellows go and get your stuff together 
 and bring it down here," he said. "Dags, go with 
 them and bring them back. See that they don 't talk 
 to anyone." 
 
 Dags and the two men went out and Kirk turned 
 at once to the task of bathing Bedard 's wound. At 
 the end of half an hour Dags and his men entered 
 the door to find Bedard 's head dressed in a clean
 
 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 277 
 
 white towel and his face washed of all the grime 
 and blood with which it had been smeared. Bedard 
 was resting quietly, his eyes closed and his face 
 relaxed and expressionless. 
 
 "Now, yon fellows,'' Kirk said suddenly ad- 
 dressing the two miners, "you come with us and 
 stay where we can keep an eye on you. To-mor- 
 row afternoon you can get away with the freight- 
 ers. But if I catch either of you speaking a word 
 to anyone, God have mercy on you. We've started 
 in now and we'll do murder if necessary before 
 this thing is done. Do you get that ? ' ' 
 
 The men made no audible reply but Kirk knew 
 from the expressions on their faces that they 
 understood. He was not bluffing and they knew 
 it. 
 
 "Leave your stuff here," he said, taking their 
 packs and throwing them into a corner. "Now, 
 get down." 
 
 He looked once again at Joe Bedard. He'll be 
 all right there till we come back," he said to Dags. 
 "He couldn't move away if he wanted to." 
 
 But as a precaution he locked the store-room 
 door before turning away to join Dags and the 
 two miners on their way back to the engine-house. 
 
 When Kirk emerged from the shaft an hour or 
 so before sunrise he was grime from head to foot 
 and weary beyond description. But the work was 
 going on again almost as smoothly as if nothing 
 had happened. 
 
 When he got to the cabin he found Tuck Roberts
 
 278 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 already busy with preparations for his trip to The 
 Pas. Giving him only the most meagre account of 
 what had happened during the night, he joined in 
 the work of getting things in readiness for the 
 trip. One of the freighters, a half-breed packer, 
 was selected to accompany Tuck and by the time 
 the sun was showing through the trees the three 
 were on their way to Jule Allen's cabin. Henry 
 Tyne they left enjoying the luxury of his early 
 morning sleep. He had said all he could the night 
 before and Kirk slipped away without waking 
 him. 
 
 They found Jule and Marion Curtis finishing 
 their breakfast, preparations for Marion's depart- 
 ure having been completed. Despatching Tuck 
 and the packer to get the canoe loaded and into 
 the water, Kirk entered the cabin and seated him- 
 self near the doorway. Marion's smile grew into 
 laughter as she looked at him, grime-covered from 
 head to foot. 
 
 Kirk explained briefly his appearance and made 
 due apologies. A few minutes later they went 
 down to where the men were waiting in the canoe. 
 Marion's leave-taking was hurried and very im- 
 personal, except that she could not resist a smile 
 as she looked at Kirk, more grimy than ever, it 
 seemed, in the fresh light of the morning sun. And 
 for some reason that he could not clearly explain 
 her smile roused in him a feeling of resentment. 
 
 "I guess I should have cleaned up a little," he 
 said as he turned away with Jule after they had
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 279 
 
 watched until the canoe had vanished round a 
 bend in the creek. * < But I r eaUy hadn 't time. ' ' 
 
 Jule looked at him out of eyes that showed how 
 completely she shared his feeling of resentment. 
 ' ' I don 't think it matters, ' ' she said quietly. * ' In 
 fact I think I rather like you better the way you 
 are." 
 
 "I shall never look at water again," Kirk 
 laughed and left her to hurry back again to the 
 camp. 
 
 It was almost noon before Kirk could leave the 
 work at the mine long enough to give any attention 
 to Joe Bedard. He had left word with his clerk 
 to go to him in case he should call and to look in 
 on him two or three times during the morning but 
 under no circumstances to let him out or allow 
 anyone to see him. 
 
 When at last he unlocked the store-room door, 
 opened it and looked in, Bedard turned his head 
 slightly and made an effort to sit up. 
 
 "Better stay where you are, Joe," Kirk ad- 
 vised, seeing how difficult it was for him to move. 
 
 Bedard lay back again and allowed Kirk to take 
 the dressing from the wpund and examine it. He 
 spent nearly half an hour bathing it and dressing 
 it afresh. Then he sat back and looked for a mom- 
 ent at the stolid face that was beginning to show 
 the marks of suffering. After all, he thought, 
 Bedard was human. He had been the willing tool 
 of Phil Roche but he had been a mere tool, after 
 all. And Kirk was moved almost to pity for him
 
 280 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 now that he lay helpless and deserted by the men 
 who had used him as a means to the end they 
 sought. 
 
 "YouVe got to have more attention than I can 
 give you, Joe," he said finally, "more attention 
 and better attention." 
 
 Bedard 's face was towards the door. Suddenly 
 it lighted and Kirk saw his eyes brighten. 
 
 "Can I get you anything?" he asked. 
 
 "See her Kuth," the half-breed grunted and 
 Kirk turned to see Ruth Mackay entering the 
 doorway. 
 
 On seeing Joe Bedard, Euth came forward 
 x quietly and looked down at him. There passed 
 over her face a look of surprise mingled with pity 
 and Kirk got up as she pressed closer and looked 
 into fhe half-breed's face. Kirk saw more in that 
 look than he had ever seen in Euth Mackay 's face 
 before. He had always seen sympathy and sin- 
 cerity there. Now there was an expression half 
 furtive, half savage, that spoke volumes. Before 
 her was a man bred, like herself, of two races, and 
 suffering largely because of his mixed blood. Only 
 she, or someone else of her kind, could feel for 
 Joe Bedard as she felt. 
 
 Even as Kirk explained hastily and as best he 
 could all that had happened the night before, Euth 
 Mackay was busy doing what she could to make 
 Bedard more comfortable. And as Kirk watched 
 them he realized that the half-breed's face was 
 less stolid and his expression less indifferent.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 281 
 
 When Kirk had explained Tuck's hurried depart- 
 ure for The Pas, he went off to get a little rest and 
 left Ruth alone with Bedard. 
 
 From that time forward Joe Bedard was under 
 the care of Ruth Mackay. He had developed a 
 high fever and was in need of constant attention. 
 
 Late that afternoon John Mackay returned 
 home. He had met Tuck Roberts and Marion 
 Curtis on the way and lost no time in looking up 
 Henry Tyne after he drew his canoe out of the 
 water before his cabin. The first conference be- 
 tween the two men was brief and very pointed. 
 John Mckay was in his usual silent mood. He 
 heard Tyne's statement. He expressed his own 
 doubts in as few words as necessary. He listened 
 to Tyne's reply. Then he walked off towards Jule 
 Allen's cabin where Jie had business that needed 
 attention. He would wait for a few days to think 
 it over. Perhaps Mrs. Curtis would be back be- 
 fore the last day of August, in which case their 
 course of action would be clear. Perhaps she 
 wouldn't come in time to take up the option before 
 it expired. In that case the situation would be 
 altered. At any rate he had business just now, 
 and off he went leaving Henry Tyne to curse the 
 old man's attitude of independence. 
 
 Kirk laughed. * ' They 're nearly all alike, Unk, ' ' 
 he said. "The old-timers act as if they didn't 
 care a tinker's hoot whether they sold their claims 
 or not. But they have their human side as well." 
 
 That John Mackay, at least, had his human side
 
 282 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 was proven later that evening when he came back 
 in his canoe with his daughter and, while Ruth 
 attended to Joe Bedard in the store-room, went 
 to Kirk's cabin where he chatted pleasantly and 
 told stories of the wilds that made Henry Tyne 
 forget there was such a thing as a copper mine in 
 existence. And then he told of old John Allen and 
 his loss. 
 
 "An* I've been figurin' a bit on that same 
 event, ' ' he concluded meditatively. ' ' John Allen 's 
 loss wasn't all an accident. Though we'll never 
 know but it was, old John was too damn' per- 
 tickler to put cables on trees jist to have 'em 
 slip off again." 
 
 Old Dags had been lying in his bunk listening 
 without comment to the talk that had been going 
 round. Suddenly he sat up and put his feet out 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "That's what I said the day it happened, 
 John," he declared. 
 
 "That's what I told John Allen himself before 
 he died," John Mackay admitted. 
 
 As if to give embodiment to the suspicions that 
 arose vaguely in the minds of them all, a step 
 sounded outdoors and they looked up to see 
 Warren Paxton's form filling the doorway. He 
 came in just far enough to see Kirk Brander and 
 Henry Tyne. There was no suspicion of a smile 
 on his face. He was serious, if not angry. 
 
 "Brander," he said abruptly, "you have one of 
 my men in your camp, held here against his will"
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 283 
 
 "Did he say sot" Kirk asked. 
 "It doesn't matter a damn whether he said so 
 
 g 
 
 or not/' Paxton snapped. "I'm here to bring 
 him back where he belongs." 
 
 "You're right, Paxton," Kirk replied, "it 
 doesn't matter. Joe Bedard isn't going back anv- 
 how." 
 
 " He isn't, eh ?" 
 
 Paxton turned and spoke to someone waiting 
 in the darkness behind him. Another figure came 
 forward and stepped into the doorway. Kirk 
 recognized Willoughby of the Saskatchewan Pro- 
 vincial Constabulary. 
 
 "Hello, Willoughby," he greeted him. 
 
 Willoughby 's manner was pleasant. "Hello, 
 Brander," he replied quietly. "Don't you think 
 you'd better hand over Joe and save trouble for 
 everybody I ' ' 
 
 Kirk's face expressed his consternation. "Since 
 when did the Saskatchewan police get power to act 
 in Manitoba, Willoughby?" he asked. "You're 
 about five hundred yards from Saskatchewan." 
 
 Willoughby 's manner was unchanged. ' 1 1 know 
 all about that, Brander," he said quietly. "We 
 don't get round our patrols more than two or three 
 times in a season and we're always willing to help 
 settle disputes. If Bedard is here against his 
 will you're breaking the law and sooner or later 
 we'll get you anyhow. I just want to save 
 trouble." 
 
 "If you don't hand him over, I'll bring enough 
 
 (19)
 
 284 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 men over here to clean ont your camp," Paxton 
 threatened. 
 
 ''Seems to me, Paxton, your feet aren't track- 
 ing straight to-night," Kirk replied. "If Wil- 
 loughby allows that kind of thing to happen with 
 him on the ground, there ought to be some way of 
 putting both you and him into a whole peck of 
 trouble." 
 
 ' ' Trouble be damned, ' ' Paxton roared. ' * I want 
 Joe Bedard back where he belongs or I'm coming 
 to take him ! ' ' 
 
 Suddenly John Mackay got up from where he 
 had been sitting and moved into the range of Pax- 
 ton's vision. 
 
 "An' I say nobody's goin' to lay a hand on 
 Joe Bedard till he plumb well wants to go," he 
 said in a voice that was maddening in its finality. 
 "My girl has come over to get Joe an' bring him 
 back where he can get the right kind of attention. 
 An' she's goin' to get him." 
 
 Paxton stepped back suddenly as if he had been 
 hit. After a moment or two of silence his thin 
 smile gradually got the better of a look of pained 
 surprise and he stepped towards John Mackay. 
 
 "I'm glad you're back," he said, offering his 
 hand. 
 
 John Mackay accepted the greeting non-com- 
 mittally. Paxton turned to Willoughby, his man- 
 ner completely changed. 
 
 "Willoughby I want you to meet John Mac-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 285 
 
 kay, ' ' lie said pleasantly. l ' This is Mr. Willough- 
 by of the Saskatchewan force, John." 
 
 "Is it ? " John Mackay retorted without moving. 
 
 "And, of course, if Mr. Mackay wants Joe to 
 stay with him for a day or so, the case is alto- 
 gether different. There won't be any trouble 
 over that." 
 
 He turned and seemed on the point of leaving. 
 "I'm coming over to talk business with you as 
 soon as you get rested up from your cruise, John," 
 he said. 
 
 "I don't get tired, Mr. Paxton," John Mackay 
 replied. "If I did I'd think I was gettin* old or 
 something." 
 
 Paxton 's laugh seemed genuine enough even if 
 it was a little forced. " I '11 come over in the morn- 
 ing, then," he suggested. 
 
 John Mackay spat into the ashes in front of the 
 stove that stood in the middle of the room. 
 
 "I'm not talkin' business till the last day of 
 August or maybe the first of September," he 
 said casually. 
 
 Paxton turned his smile upon Kirk and Henry 
 ^Tyne. 
 
 "We can wait," he said drily.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FOR the days that followed, Joe Bedard re- 
 mained under John Mackay's roof and re- 
 ceived care at the hands of his daughter. 
 With Tuck Roberts gone Kirk had little time to 
 spend away from the work in the mine but oc- 
 casionally he made his way to Mackay's cabin to 
 enquire concerning Bedard 's condition. That his 
 visits should have been timed for the most part 
 to coincide exactly with those of Jule Allen, 
 whether by accident or design, may be taken 
 merely as a matter of record. 
 
 For a few days, at least, Bedard 's condition 
 was almost serious. But Ruth Mackay's patience 
 and her native instincts won out in the end. Kirk 
 was careful not to interfere in any way with 
 Ruth's work but when the last sign of the fever 
 had subsided Kirk faced Bedard with the de- 
 liberate intention of carrying out the plan that 
 had been in his mind for some days. Joe Bedard, 
 he felt sure, had secrets, the revelation of which 
 might be of value either in dismissing or in 
 vindicating suspicions that he held concerning not 
 only Phil Roche but Warren Paxton as well. Two 
 nights in succession he strove merely to get the 
 halfbreed to talk. On the second evening he suc- 
 
 286
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 287 
 
 ceeded in learning that Roche had struck the blow 
 that had laid Bedard out that night in the tunnel. 
 They had quarrelled over some miscarriage of 
 plans for which Eoche had held Bedard re- 
 sponsible. When Kirk pressed for more details 
 concerning the nature of the plans, Bedard looked 
 once at Euth Mackay and lapsed into silence. Kirk 
 resolved to wait until the next night before he 
 asked any more questions. 
 
 As he approached John Mackay 's cabin the fol- 
 lowing night he saw Phil Eoche pushing off in his 
 canoe. He could not have seen Kirk who was hid- 
 den by the close undergrowth through which he 
 was walking, and Kirk permitted him to get well 
 away before he approached the cabin. That 
 night Joe Bedard was silent to all his questions. 
 Growing impatient, Kirk tried threats with much 
 the same result. The half-breed was not going to 
 be forced either into making confessions on his 
 own part or into revealing secrets in the lives of 
 others. 
 
 "You'd better leave him," John Mackay sug- 
 gested. ' ' One drop o ' Cree blood in a man's veins 
 an' if he don't want to talk you couldn't make him 
 if you set him on hot coals." 
 
 Before Kirk left that evening, John Mackay 
 called him outside on the pretext of looking at 
 some samples of ore he had picked up on a recent 
 expedition. 
 
 "There's no use tryin' to get that boy to talk," 
 the old prospector said when they were alone.
 
 288 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "Phil was here this evening an* they had a few 
 words in private. From this time on, Joe Bedard 
 isn't speakin' to anyone, unless maybe, the girl. 
 But you're not goin' to get anything out o' her. 
 She's a lot of her mother in her." 
 
 "I'd never ask Euth," Kirk replied. 
 
 "Something's been on the girl's mind lately," 
 John Mackay continued. "It's been worryin' her 
 bad an' she won't talk. She's changed just in 
 the last few days or so an' I don't like it. She's 
 troubled." 
 
 "It may be all right again when Tuck comes 
 back," Kirk suggested. 
 
 * ' That 's it, ' ' Mackay replied quickly. * ' Are you 
 sure the lad is comin' back. Men have queer ways 
 with them sometimes." 
 
 Kirk was startled at the suggestion. * ' Tuck will 
 be back," he said with confidence. "And he's 
 going to be back on or before the last day of 
 August. I'm banking on Tuck and Tuck has 
 never failed me yet." 
 
 "He'll come if he can," John Mackay replied, 
 "I feel sure of that too." 
 
 "Sure," Kirk declared. 
 
 But on the way back to camp that night he could 
 not free himself from the feeling of uneasiness 
 that John Mackay 's words had given him. And 
 through the days that followed the feeling per- 
 sisted until something like dark presentiment 
 seized him and he found himself longing for
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 289 
 
 Tuck's return as if not only the fate of their 
 enterprise but life itself hung on his coming. 
 
 But the days passed and Tuck did not come, 
 though throughout the last week in August they 
 watched constantly every approach to the camp 
 to catch the first glimpse of him. And in the 
 meanwhile Joe Bedard slipped away from Mac- 
 kay 's cabin without Kirk's knowing and disap- 
 peared from the district without speaking a word 
 to anyone unless to Euth Mackay but Euth said 
 nothing. 
 
 It was a crestfallen pair of men that took the 
 trail to John Mackay 's cabin in the late afternoon 
 of that last day in August. They had waited im- 
 patiently all day, confident that Tuck and Marion 
 Curtis would arrive any minute. Henry Tyne had 
 spent most of the day with Jule Allen at her cabin, 
 to be on hand in case Tuck should come. Bark 
 had done his best to carry on the work he had at 
 hand to do, though most of his efforts had been 
 ineffective and blundering. For once he found 
 himself hopelessly dependent upon others. Though 
 he refused to allow his confidence in Marion Curtis 
 and Tuck Eoberts to wane, he had begun vaguely 
 to anticipate what it would be like if within the 
 next day or two he should be forced to leave the 
 country, beaten and a failure, as he had come into 
 it. A few minutes before, they had seen Pax- 
 ton's canoe leave the landing and start across the 
 lake towards Mackay 's cabin. And now, as Kirk 
 followed his uncle along the pathway he thought
 
 290 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 the old man's shoulders drooped more and his 
 step was more labored than it had been for days. 
 
 They found Paxton in the cabin with John Mac- 
 kay. Sitting on the lakeshore where the canoe 
 waited, was Paxton 's young clerk. Kirk had ex- 
 pected to see Phil Roche and his surprise made 
 him wonder what had kept Roche away. Ruth 
 Mackay got up from where she had been Bitticg 
 when Kirk and Henry Tyne entered and turning 
 a troubled look upon Kirk, went out. 
 
 John Mackay was in a very reticent mood. He 
 received the greetings of Kirk and his uncle with 
 little show of cordiality and invited them to seats 
 at a comfortable distance from where Paxton was 
 sitting. Then he set aside the pipe he had been 
 smoking and settled down in his chair, a little ill 
 at ease. The place he had been in the habit of re- 
 garding as his home was now a place of business, 
 where sentiment, for the time being, should not be 
 allowed to enter. Men whom he had treated 
 always as friends, even if his treatment had been 
 anything but familiar, were now merely the mov- 
 ing figures in a contest in which he was referee. 
 The fact did not please him any too well and yet 
 it was precisely the situation his imagination 
 had pictured for days and he did not shrink from 
 the unpleasantness of it. 
 
 "I have no wish to waste either your time or 
 my own, John," Paxton said suddenly and in a 
 tone that clearly indicated his increasing con- 
 fidence in the final outcome of the whole affair.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 291 
 
 "I am ready to go on anytime," John Mackay 
 said simply. 
 
 "There need be no delay on onr account," 
 Henry Tyne observed. 
 
 Paxton assumed a manner that was almost 
 pompous. "I can state my business in a very 
 few words," he said. "I had hoped to have had 
 a few minutes with you privately so that " 
 
 "We'll be glad to withdraw " Henry Tyne 
 
 began. 
 
 "I think it would be as well to say what you 
 have to say in each other's hearin'," John Mac- 
 kay interrupted. "There'll be no misunder- 
 standin', then, one way or another. Anyhow it's 
 business, an' business that we're not ashamed of. 
 We can afford to talk about it among ourselves 
 openly and without keepin' anything back. Go 
 on, Mr. Paxton. 
 
 "You will remember," Paxton went on, "that 
 I was in the field for the Micmac before Mr. Tyne 
 secured the present option on the property. Con- 
 ditions I couldn't control made it possible for Mr. 
 Tyne to establish his position before I could com- 
 plete the arrangements I had in mind. To-day we 
 have reached the time when Mr. Tyne's option 
 expires. I am in the field again and am ready to 
 make my offer as soon as I know that the pro- 
 perty is on the market again. It is just as well, 
 perhaps, that Mr. Tyne is here. He can tell us 
 pretty definitely what his intentions are." 
 
 . "Mr. Tyne has until midnight to-night to tell
 
 292 THE LOBSTICK TEAIL 
 
 what His intentions are," John Mackay reminded 
 Paxton. 
 
 ' ' There is no need of reminding Mr. Paxton of 
 that," Henry Tyne observed quietly. "The time 
 is getting short now it's only a matter of a few 
 hours till we know what our position will be. Mrs. 
 Curtis may be back yet, of course, but I am not 
 sure what will be the nature of the news she will 
 have for us. It may not be favorable when she 
 does come." 
 
 <r Have you any proposition to make, Mr. 
 Tyne f ' ' John Mackay asked. 
 
 "I have. The work has gone on steadily on the 
 Micmac since the day we secured an option on the 
 property. We have suffered some little setbacks 
 and a few obstructions but we have not only lived 
 up to the letter of our contract we have done 
 more, actually, than the contract called for. We 
 have done more work, we have spent more money, 
 because we have had confidence in the property 
 and wanted to make it show up. ' ' 
 
 "What is your proposition, Mr. Tyne?" John 
 Mackay urged. 
 
 "It's this. I believe we are entitled to some con- 
 cession, Mr. Mackay. The property has begun to 
 show high grade ore in quantities that we think 
 will bear out our expectations. We ought to have 
 an opportunity of developing the property, say, 
 for another six weeks, or until the freeze-up. If 
 the showing continues good we could then be given 
 an opportunity of taking up the option and buy- 
 ing the property outright."
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 293 
 
 "You mean, then, to have the option extended 
 for another six weeks or so," John Mackay re- 
 marked. 
 
 "If such an arrangement could be reached," 
 Henry Tyne replied. 
 
 "And yon," John Mackay said turning towards 
 Paxton, "you are lookin' to a year's option on the 
 place." 
 
 "That's what we're seeking and we're ready 
 to make payment as soon as we know the pro- 
 perty has been released," Paxton affirmed. 
 
 John Mackay sat a moment in uneasy silence. 
 "It seems to me, Mr. Tyne," he said at last, "that 
 as a matter of mere business Mr. Paxton 's pro- 
 position goes a little farther than yours and ought 
 to be worth more." 
 
 He thought a moment longer. "Suppose we 
 could arrange another six weeks, Mr. Tyne, can 
 you pay me the money for the extension before 
 the expiration of our present contract?" 
 
 "That will depend again upon the arrival of 
 Mrs. Curtis," Henry Tyne admitted. 
 
 "While I don't wish to influence your judg- 
 ment unduly," Paxton offered, "it must be clear 
 that Mr. Tyne's position is a very uncertain one. 
 It seems to me that in matters of this kind the man 
 with the ready money has the argument." 
 
 Kirk, who had listened to the discussion in sil- 
 ence, a silence in which hope and despair battled 
 within him, realized the full weight of Paxton 's
 
 294 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 statements. Money, after all, made the argument. 
 If Marion Curtis did not return, or if she re- 
 turned without sufficient money to renew the con- 
 tract, their case would be hopeless, the game would 
 be up for them. And then it came to Kirk as 
 clearly as if a voice within him had spoken, that 
 the value he had placed on the property was not 
 a money value at all. Here in the task itself he 
 had found what his heart had hungered for. 
 Should he be forced to quit, the future and the 
 dreams he had had would become as nothing. He 
 could not bear the thought. He got to his feet. He 
 stepped towards John Mackay and stood a mom- 
 ent before him in silence while his mind seized 
 more clearly the idea that had suddenly blossomed 
 there. 
 
 "Money, John Mackay money is not the whole 
 argument/* he said. "For you who have lived 
 in the north for years, even for me, this is not 
 altogether a case of money. This is your country 
 it is my country I never realized that till just 
 now. You have lived here. You don't want to go 
 away from here. I have lived here. I want to go 
 on living here. I want to make this place a better 
 place for human beings to live not a worse place. 
 I don't want to take the wealth out of here and 
 spend it in the big cities. I want to bring people 
 here I want to see men and women here and 
 busy streets and human life in the making. I 
 want to see some of our dreams your dreams and 
 my dreams become facts. And that's why I
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 295 
 
 want another chance to make good. "We haven't 
 
 failed not yet. It'll take time. But he " 
 
 Kirk pointed towards Baxton, " he'll fail even 
 when he makes the biggest success he ever dream- 
 ed of making. He'll fail because because he 
 doesn't care for our kind of success." 
 
 Kirk's impassioned appeal brought John Mac- 
 kay out of his uneasy attitude. He sat forward 
 and reached again for his pipe. He began filling 
 it leisurely, looking at Kirk and then at Henry 
 Tyne and Warren Paxton as if he wished to see if 
 they heard what he did. 
 
 "And what is your proposition, Brander?" he 
 asked as Kirk made a pause. 
 
 "I have nothing to give, John Mackay," he re- 
 plied, "nothing but a promise a promise to go on 
 working as I have worked to show the world 
 what we have and to tell them we don't go beg- 
 ging that they can come to us. And when we 've 
 got what we are working for to keep it here, to 
 build our own city and make our own homes and 
 and live our own lives." 
 
 "Seems to me we're getting away from the 
 point," Paxton suggested. 
 
 John Mackay placed the match to his pipe and 
 puffed a moment. "Either that or we haven't 
 been on the point an' are gettin' to it now," he 
 said slowly. "It's either one or th' other that's 
 certain." 
 
 Paxton was clearly growing impatient. "I've 
 made a proposition," he said, "and Henry Tyne
 
 296 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 has made a proposition. It's for yon to decide 
 between us, John." 
 
 "Or leave yon both ont of it," John Mackay 
 emiled, "an' talk business with Brander." 
 
 ^Brander hasn't put a business proposition, at 
 all," Paxton protested. "He's got a lot of poor 
 eentiment that isn't worth a dollar and senti- 
 ment won 't run a mine. ' ' 
 
 "Well," John Mackay observed, getting up 
 from his chair as a signal that the discussion was 
 at an end for the present at least, "a man must 
 have time to think. Nothing can be done about it 
 till midnight anyhow that's some hours off. By 
 that time I'll be asleep an' won't be movin' round 
 much before sun-up to-morrow mornin'. When 
 I've slept on it for a night thought it over in my 
 own bed and on my own place there'll be time 
 enough to talk about it." 
 
 He went to the door of his cabin and looking out, 
 drew a deep breath as if he wished to brace him- 
 self to meet the problem he was facing. 
 
 "There's some of your men waitin' outside, Mr. 
 Paxton," he said, looking at Paxton with 
 questioning eyes. * ' Are they lookin ' for you f ' ' 
 
 Paxton went to the doorway and glanced out. 
 "I'll be going now," he said without seeming to 
 notice the four men who were standing between 
 the cabin and the water's edge. 
 
 Kirk turned suddenly from where he had been 
 standing and following Paxton, cast his eyes 
 about him, A vague suspicion arose in his mind.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 297 
 
 He stepped quickly towards Paxton and laid his 
 hand heavily on his shoulder. 
 
 Paxton turned and gave him a vicious look. 
 ' ' Take your hands off me, ' ' he commanded. 
 
 Kirk's grip tightened. "What are these men 
 doing here?" he asked. 
 
 *' Young fellow, it's none of your damn' busi- 
 ness," Paxton snapped. "They're not on your 
 property." 
 
 Suddenly from the bushes into which ran the 
 trail to the Micmac, old man Bags emerged. Even 
 at a distance Kirk could see that the old man was 
 excited. When he saw Kirk he stopped suddenly. 
 
 ' l Come on, Kirk ! " he called. * ' Get back to the 
 creek!" 
 
 Paxton placed himself between Kirk and Dags. 
 "Take a word of advice from me, Brander," he 
 said, "and stay where you are." 
 
 Paxton 's men moved up from the shore of the 
 lake and loitered near the trail. Their movements 
 were casual and showed no outward indication 
 that they were fulfilling any prearranged plan. 
 But Kirk was taking no chances. 
 
 "I'm going down that trail, Paxton," he said 
 quietly. * ' Get your men out of my way. ' 
 
 He swept Paxton to one side, observing as he 
 did so that the attitude of the men standing be- 
 fore him had suddenly changed. Their movements 
 plainly expressed their purpose. Kirk leaped to 
 one side to avoid Paxton 's rush and seizing a 
 double-bitted axe that stood against a log where
 
 298 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 John Mackay prepared his fuel, lifted it and turn- 
 ed to face them. For a moment only he pansed 
 and set himself for the rush. When they came at 
 him he leaped towards them swinging the axe and 
 shouting his warning. The suddenness of his at- 
 tack and the fierceness with which he came down 
 upon them was more than they could be expected 
 to withstand. As he leaped first at one and then 
 at another they fell back and left the trail clear 
 before him. 
 
 Dropping the axe he ran towards Dags and to- 
 gether they hurried off down the trail. "When they 
 had come within a hundred yards of their own 
 camp Dags spoke, his words coming hurriedly 
 and brokenly as he struggled for breath. 
 
 "Get down to the cabin Allen's cabin/' he 
 said. ' * She was up Jule came up here. They 're 
 goin* to get Tuck there's something down there 
 they're goin' to stop him he can't get through. 
 She had to go back Phil has her watched get 
 down." 
 
 What Dags had tried to tell Kirk in his in- 
 coherent and excited manner Kirk himself veri- 
 fied a few minutes later. Hurrying through the 
 woods, he heard men talking and when he emerged 
 into the open space in which stood Jule Allen's 
 cabin, he realized that a deliberate plan had been 
 worked out to make it impossible for Tuck Roberts 
 to get through to the camp, provided he should 
 make the attempt any time before midnight. If 
 he did not arrive before midnight, it didn't matter
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 299 
 
 whether he came at all. But Paxton had done all 
 in his power to provide against Tuck's coming at 
 the last moment and upsetting his hopes just when 
 they seemed on the point of being realized. 
 
 He ran to the cabin, threw the door open sud- 
 denly and stepped inside. As he did so Phil 
 Eoche and Jule turned to face him. The look of 
 surprise in Eoche 's face changed suddenly to a 
 scowl of anger. But Kirk's eyes were upon Jule 
 Allen's face. There was pain there and pleading, 
 and then, suddenly, defiance. 
 
 " Kirk! "she cried. 
 
 Eoehe turned on her with a look that com- 
 manded silence. Jule moved into a position where 
 the table in the centre of the floor stood between 
 her and Roche. 
 
 "Ill speak if I wish," she said, her eyes flash- 
 ing defiantly at Eoche. Then, turning to Kirk she 
 continued. * ' They are going to stop Tuck Eoberts 
 they are not going to let him come something 
 is happening something that is terrible. Euth 
 has been here and has told me. But you mustn't 
 
 let them touch him for Euth's sake, Kirk, for 
 
 Euth 's sake!" 
 
 Kirk looked at Eoche. "You can't do that, 
 Phil," he said, going towards Jule and standing 
 beside her. 
 
 Eoche leaned across the table towards Kirk. 
 "We're goin' to do it and we're doin' it now," 
 he said. 
 
 (20)
 
 300 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 
 
 " What's the idea?" Kirk asked struggling to 
 retain his self-control. 
 
 Boche 's face darkened. * * What 's the idea f " he 
 retorted. "You're the idea you and him and 
 your whole gang! You think you can get away 
 with it all the time you think no on6 will stop 
 you. Well, I'll stop you! You've won I've lost. 
 Here's where we call a show-down, Brander." 
 
 Kirk was not the kind of man to hold a grudge. 
 Boche 's foul tactics in the dog Derby and his inter- 
 ference on behalf of Paxton's interests during the 
 summer would have been sufficient cause for 
 anger. But in these things, after all, Kirk had 
 been victor. The suspicion, however, that Eoche 
 had been at least indirectly responsible for the 
 death of Wally Lament made his blood hot as he 
 stood and faced him. And Boche was now carry- 
 ing out his plans directed against Tuck Boberts. 
 What those plans were he could only guess. Jule 
 Allen's warning had made him wonder. 
 
 "But where does Tuck come into this?" he ask- 
 ed Boche. 
 
 Boche leaned closer across the table. "You 
 might just as well get this straight now as later," 
 he said. "Tuck Boberts is playin' into our hands. 
 Tuck's wanted outside wanted bad an' they've 
 got " 
 
 "Wanted for what!" Kirk asked In bewildered 
 fashion. 
 
 "Ask Willoughby," Boche replied, "he knows. 
 What I've got to tell you is that if he tries comin'
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 301 
 
 in here now an' spoilin' onr plans, we're goin* to 
 spoil some things for Mm." 
 
 For a moment Kirk was struck dnnib. He tnrned 
 to Jule with a look of appeal bnt she tnrned away 
 and pnt her hands over her face. Suddenly the 
 simple facts of the case came npon him in full 
 force. Somewhere, in all probability, Tnck in his 
 eagerness to reach the camp before it was too late, 
 was at that moment hurrying into the trap that 
 Paxton and Eoche had set for him. Outside the 
 cabin, waiting on the shores of the creek, were men 
 of Paxton ? s gang and just across the creek, with- 
 in his own province, Willoughby waited with the 
 authority of the law behind him. For the moment 
 he forgot the mission upon which Tuck had em- 
 barked. He forgot Henry Tyne and the Micmac. 
 He forgot the vision he had had that afternoon, 
 the vision of his own future. He thought only of 
 the man that had been his friend. He turned from 
 Jule and started for the open doorway. But Roche, 
 anticipating his move, sprang ahead of him and 
 throwing the door shut stood with his back 
 against it. 
 
 * * Get back, Brander, ' ' he commanded. "Here 's 
 where the game goes on without you." 
 
 Kirk recoiled, stepped back a couple of paces 
 and looked at Roche. The look of quick anger left 
 his face. In its place there came something dark, 
 grim, resolute. This was not the Kirk Brander of 
 the dog race and of the fight at the dock. It was 
 not the Kirk Brander who had met Phil Koche on
 
 302 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 the water and had given battle in a canoe more for 
 the sheer love of fighting and the sport of it than 
 anything else. He was rather the man who had 
 gazed upon the frozen form of Wally Lamonte and 
 had gone almost mad from the sight. He raised 
 himself to his full height and then crouched low as 
 he regarded the face of the man who stood between 
 him and the help he wanted to give Tuck Roberts. 
 
 "Roche," he said between set teeth, "get back 
 from that door. " 
 
 For reply Roche moved a step towards him and 
 stood on the defensive. Kirk moved back a couple 
 of paces until he stood beside Jule Allen. 
 
 "See him," he said without looking at her. 
 "That man killed Wally Lamonte." 
 
 Roche's face became vicious as he looked at Jule 
 and then back again at Kirk. "That's a lie," he 
 hissed. 
 
 But Kirk did not seem to hear the denial. "He 
 left him on the trail without dogs," he went on. 
 "Isn't that killing I He knows. Now he's after 
 Tuck." 
 
 Roche came towards him sullenly. 
 
 "Back, Jule," Kirk said sternly, "back out of 
 the way." 
 
 He put one hand out to push her away and for 
 a moment he felt her hands close over his fingers. 
 
 "Kirk, Kirk," she said in a voice that was little 
 more than a whisper. 
 
 At the sound of her voice Roche sprang forward 
 and Kirk stepped back quickly, "With a sweep of
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 303 
 
 his arms lie cleared the table and a couple of 
 chairs from the centre of the floor and turned with 
 the same movement to meet Roche who was bear- 
 ing down on him. As they closed suddenly with a 
 rush, the door opened and Henry Tyne entered. A 
 cry from Jule brought the old man to her side. In 
 that one tense moment Kirk's ears caught the 
 sound of the girl's voice and then the sound of 
 his old uncle 's voice calling his name. From then 
 on he heard nothing, saw nothing but the man 
 whose rushes he met with his own, knew nothing 
 but the stern business he had in hand. Once in 
 a moment's pause he looked over Eoche 's shoulder 
 and saw Paxton's form near the door. Already 
 it was nearing sunset and the bulky figure in the 
 half dusk of the cabin's interior looked to Kirk 
 like an evil ghost that had entered without sound 
 or movement. 
 
 But the one glimpse he had of Paxton awakened 
 the instinct of primitive hate. He tore into his 
 antagonist with the reckless fury of a madman. 
 Roche met him and borne back by the force of 
 Kirk's rush seized him round the body and clung 
 to him with the tenacity of one in despair. For 
 several seconds they struck at close range, madly, 
 almost blindly. When they broke from each other 
 again, Eoche seemed content to stand in his 
 tracks while he struggled for breath. But Kirk 
 was in no mood to allow the fight to lag. Gathering 
 his remaining strength he sprang forward again 
 with the full weight of Ms body behind the blow.
 
 304 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 This time Roche tried awkwardly to avoid the 
 rash, then, finding it impossible to escape, seized 
 Kirk once more in his arms and bore down. Under 
 the force of the attack the two men lurched over 
 the table where it stood against the wall and 
 Kirk felt Roche's weight sag helplessly under 
 him. 
 
 Realizing that it was over, Kirk was content to 
 rest a moment, holding Roche on his back across 
 the table. Roche made a last desperate struggle 
 to rise, and then relaxed. He was beaten and he 
 knew it. For a moment there was no sound but 
 the labored breathing of the two men. Neither 
 spoke a word. Suddenly a cry of warning from 
 Jule and Henry Tyne caused Kirk to spring back 
 quickly and look behind him. In the dim light of 
 the cabin he saw Paxton rushing towards him. He 
 had lifted a chair above his head and was almost 
 on top of him before he realized what was hap- 
 pening. Instead of backing away he sprang to- 
 wards Paxton and shot under his arms before he 
 had time to bring the chair down. Paxton 's breath 
 issued in a kind of lengthened grunt. His arms 
 fell about Kirk in a helpless embrace and the chair 
 clattered to the floor. In his face, turned towards 
 Roche, there was the appeal of a man in despair. 
 But Roche, who had sat up the moment he was 
 relieved of Kirk's weight had seen Paxton 's move, 
 remained where he was and replied to Paxton ? s 
 appeal with a smile that was plainly expressive of 
 contempt. Kirk slipped his toe around one of Pax-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 305 
 
 ton's ankles and with a vigorous pnsh sent 
 sprawling on his back upon the floor in one corner 
 of the room. Eoche's smile was one almost of 
 amusement. But Kirk, in the madness that pos- 
 sessed him, turned again to meet the rush he ex- 
 pected from Eoche, and to meet it with a rush of 
 his own that would bring the struggle definitely to 
 an end. He did not see the look in Eoche's face, 
 or seeing it did not understand. He was fighting 
 two ways now and Paxton's tactics had merely 
 quickened his determination and heightened his 
 fury. The two men stood a moment looking at 
 each other. Then Eoche found his voice. 
 
 "That'll do, Brander," he said thickly. "I'm 
 not fightin' double." 
 
 Paxton had got to his feet and was giving free 
 expression to his opinion of Eoche in rounds of 
 lurid profanity. Kirk backed away from Eoche 
 cautiously and then turned suddenly upon Paxton. 
 Before the threat of another infuriated attack 
 Paxton's self-control returned almost miracu- 
 lously. 
 
 "Get out there and call your men off," Kirk de- 
 manded. 
 
 But Kirk was never to know how Paxton would 
 have responded. The door burst suddenly open 
 and against the waning light of the outside the 
 figure of Marion Curtis appeared. She rushed 
 towards Kirk and stood before him, her hands on 
 his arm, unable to speak. 
 
 "Where's Tuck?" Kirk asked quickly.
 
 306 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "Quick, quick, " she replied urging him towards 
 the door. * ' They have taken him ! ' ' 
 
 Shouts of men without startled them and for- 
 getting for the moment the struggle that had en- 
 grossed their attention within the cabin, all rush- 
 ed together to the doorway following closely upon 
 Kirk's heels. A shot sounded from the opposite 
 shore of the creek. Then another and a third. A 
 canoe shot from the cover of an overhanging 
 clump of willows and darted into the current. In 
 the middle of the canoe sat Tuck Roberts. Behind 
 him was Joe Bedard and in front, Euth Mackay. 
 A fourth shot sounded from the farther shore and 
 Tuck crouched suddenly in the canoe as if he had 
 been hit. All at once the canoe seemed to leap 
 forward as it dropped downward into the main 
 current and headed for the centre of the rapids. 
 The frantic efforts of Joe Bedard were helpless 
 against the power that drove them downward. The 
 swirling current swept the canoe first to one side 
 and then to the other but always madly forward 
 and directly towards the spot where the water 
 rounded over the rock-ledge and plunged below. 
 Above the roaring of the rapids, the voices of the 
 men on the shore shouted warning and for a mom- 
 ent there was neither prejudice nor hate among 
 them; there was only hope that by some super- 
 human feat of skill or strength the rapids might 
 be beaten and the canoe pass downward with its 
 burden to the quiet level of the water below. Even 
 Phil Boche, who had rushed with Kirk to the edge
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 307 
 
 of the creek, muttered something under his breath 
 that might have been taken for either an impre- 
 cation or a prayer and that probably partook of 
 the nature of both. 
 
 As the bow of the canoe approached within a 
 few feet of the critical point in the rapids, Bedard, 
 by a frantic effort swung it into the very 
 middle of the main current. Their only hope lay 
 in keeping free from the rocks. Then as it shot 
 over the edge, and just before it dipped down 
 again to take the water, he got almost to his feet, 
 struck out and forward with his paddle to throw 
 them clear of a boulder, settled back to give more 
 balance to the canoe and, with the course open be- 
 fore them, sat with both hands gripping the gun- 
 wales and trusted to fortune for the rest. 
 
 A shout arose as the- canoe passed what 
 seemed to be the most dangerous point in the 
 rapids and then suddenly swerved, almost stopped, 
 took another drop downwards, stood for the 
 thousandth part of a second with its bow in 
 the air and the stern low, and then, with- 
 out the slightest apparent warning, flopped 
 over sidewise, and backwards like a great awk- 
 ward fish sporting itself in the water. No word 
 came from those in the canoe. On the shore there 
 arose a cry almost of anguish as the men rushed 
 downwards along the pathway and plunged into 
 the stream to render what assistance they could 
 to the three who had disappeared in the water.
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 AN hour later Kirk Brander bore the form 
 of Euth Mackay up the narrow pathway be- 
 side the rapids and into Jule Allen's cabin. 
 The men gave way before him leaving the way 
 open and unobstructed. With him was Joe Bedard 
 who had got himself out unharmed and had stayed 
 to help the others look for Euth Mackay, who had 
 not come to the surface again after she had been 
 drawn under by the back- wash at the foot of the 
 rapids. Within the cabin Jule Allen was busy 
 dressing a wound in Tuck Eoberts' shoulder 
 where one of Willoughby's shots had found its 
 mark. Kirk laid his burden on the bed in Jule's 
 room and turned to speak to Marion Curtis who 
 had followed him from the outer room. 
 
 "This is bad," he said gravely. "Has anyone 
 gone for John Mackay?" 
 
 "Your uncle went a few minutes ago," Marion 
 Curtis replied. i ' Is there no hope at all f " 
 
 Kirk shook his head. "We worked for three- 
 quarters of an hour without the slightest result," 
 he replied. "How's Tuck?" 
 
 "Jule is dressing his shoulder." 
 
 As she spoke Tuck himself entered the room, 
 Ms face white and drawn. Silently he stood and 
 
 308
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 309 
 
 looked down at the white face of Bnth Mackay. 
 Then he turned away and went into the outer room 
 of the cabin where he sat down on a bench and 
 bowed his head. 
 
 Kirk turned away and looked at Marion Curtis. 
 "It isn't worth all this," he said slowly. 
 
 Together they left the room and went out to 
 wait for John Mackay and Henry Tyne to arrive. 
 In Kirk's heart there burned a desire to get from 
 Tuck an explanation of all that had happened but 
 a glance at Tuck's face made that impossible. He 
 followed Marion Curtis to the window and looked 
 out towards the river where a group of men were 
 still standing talking among themselves. 
 
 ' 'We have lost out all around," Marion Curtis 
 said in a voice that was meant only for Kirk's 
 ears. 
 
 Kirk faced her suddenly. "You mean you 
 mean you didn't bring back anything?" he asked. 
 
 ' ' Nothing that will help, ' ' she replied. ' * It will 
 take more time. One can't perform miracles 
 and that's what I undertook when I went out." 
 
 "How much time?" Kirk asked. 
 
 "Two months at least but we haven't even 
 enough to pay for an extension of the option." 
 
 Kirk turned from the window. Jule Allen was 
 entering the room where he had laid Ruth Mackay. 
 Quietly he left Marion Curtis and walked to the 
 door of the room. He paused and looked at Jule 
 as she stood with her hand on the hair of the girl 
 who had been her sole companion during the sum-
 
 310 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 mer. Then as he stepped through the doorway 
 and stood near the foot of the bed, she came to 
 him and laid a hand on his arm silently. As he 
 looked at her, the announcement of Marion Cur- 
 tis ' failure came to him with added significance. 
 
 "This looks like the end," he said quietly. 
 "Marion " 
 
 "She has told me," Jule interrupted him. 
 
 Kirk turned from her a little and laid a hand 
 gently on her shoulder. 1 1 1 didn 't think I 'd have 
 to to give it up, ' ' he said. l ' I don 't want to leave 
 it I can't leave it I can't go back there." 
 
 The outer door opened and John Mackay and 
 Henry Tyne entered together. As the two older 
 men came into the room Jule and Kirk withdrew 
 and left them alone. 
 
 Taking his hat, Kirk went to the door and 
 opened it. It was growing dark and there would 
 be some things to do at the camp, where he had 
 left Dags alone in charge of the work ever since 
 he had gone to John Mackay 's cabin early that 
 afternoon. It seemed now that days had passed 
 since that visit to John Mackay. Well, he had done 
 what he could. The dream he had cherished 
 secretly for weeks had been shattered. The future 
 looked very dark and about him now was no order, 
 no plan, nothing but confusion and cross purposes. 
 With a word to Tuck to follow him, he put on his 
 hat and went out. 
 
 When he had stepped out he saw a group of men 
 standing between the cabin and the creek. As he
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 311 
 
 looked at them Phil Roche drew away from the 
 others and advanced towards him. Kirk sent 
 Tuck along the trail and waited himself for Roche. 
 
 "Brander," said Roche when he stood finally 
 before Kirk, "this thing is over for me. I'm get- 
 tin' out. An' the reason ain't you an' it ain't 
 her." He nodded his head towards the cabin. 
 "It's the boss over there. This wouldn't 'a' hap- 
 pened only he's a crook. He's pulled all the 
 crooked stuff that's been done in this game. Now 
 I 'm gettin ' out. I 'm goin ' in north for the winter 
 an ' you won 't hear from me. I figure we both lost, 
 Brander, when we came in on this. I lost, that's 
 sure an' you didn't get anything out of it. So 
 long." 
 
 He waited a moment for Kirk to make some 
 response but Kirk was thinking very hard and was 
 silent. Only when Roche turned to go did he fin- 
 ally speak. 
 
 "Phil," he said in a voice that was firm witK 
 resolution to see the whole affair through to 
 the end, "who framed that fur-stealing on 
 Tuck?" 
 
 Roche took a step towards him. "Brander," he 
 said, "that wasn't my work. I don't know who 
 did that. But I do know that you 're makin ' a mis- 
 take in stickin ' to Tuck. He 's good enough just as 
 he is but Tuck's got a record, Brander, an' yon 
 can't afford to keep him round." 
 
 Kirk had heard enough about his friend, Tuck 
 Roberts, to set him to wondering,
 
 812 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 "What do yon know about Tuck?" lie asked 
 quickly. 
 
 " Tuck 11 tell you himself, I reckon," Roche re- 
 plied. "He's got no chance unless he gets out an' 
 he's got to get out good and quick or he'll not find 
 the go in' any too easy. If he's goin' my direc- 
 tion, tell him he's welcome." 
 
 Kirk was at a loss to understand Koche 's chan- 
 ged attitude. 
 
 "You'd help him get away?" he asked. 
 
 Roche sniffed impatiently. "What's the use, 
 Brander?" he replied. "This ain't any repent- 
 ance stuff I'm pullin' not a little bit but I've 
 been in the wrong kind of a game. I don't know 
 how to play it with men like W. K. P. I might 
 just as well admit I 'm stuck but I Ve had the ex- 
 perience an' never again!" 
 
 Kirk felt, somehow, that Eoche was sincere. One 
 thing more, however, he wanted him to make clear. 
 He stepped so close to Roche that their faces al- 
 most met. 
 
 "Who took Lamonte's dogs, Phil?" he asked. 
 
 Roche's countenance fell slowly and he turned 
 away. "I'm gettin' out, Brander," he said, "an' 
 that that's the real reason. I thought you knew 
 that." 
 
 He walked away and Kirk stood watching him 
 until he had disappeared in the dusk. His con- 
 fession had affected Kirk strangely. Roche could 
 have defended himself against the law. He could 
 never have escaped the wrath of the men of the
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 313 
 
 northland, however, had they come to know what 
 he had done. That he should thus have thrown 
 himself entirely on Kirk's mercy was an indica- 
 tion that he had completely surrendered. And as 
 Kirk turned away he felt that he had some reason 
 to feel grateful to Phil Eoche. A man, after all, 
 who can confess his wrongs and can sacrifice 
 everything, as Eoche was doing, because of them, 
 was not beyond redemption. And Kirk knew that 
 for Phil Eoche to leave the place in which Jule 
 Allen moved and never return to it was an atone- 
 ment that few men would have made for the great- 
 est sin they had ever committed. 
 
 He turned away and joined Tuck Eoberts wait- 
 ing for him in the shadows. And all the way back 
 to the camp Kirk's mind struggled with what Phil 
 Eoche had told him. He would have asked Tuck to 
 explain it all, to tell him the whole truth about his 
 past life, but their four years together had taught 
 him the value of a friendship that was taken on 
 its own merits and no questions asked. He would 
 wait until Tuck himself volunteered to speak. 
 
 An hour later Marion Curtis stood in the open 
 doorway of the cabin and looked at the woods and 
 the creek and the lake, all pale under the starlight. 
 Jule Allen stood beside her. Behind them John 
 Mackay and Henry Tyne sat together at the table. 
 Their voices broke the silence only at long inter- 
 vals and their words were little more than whis- 
 perings. In one corner Joe Bedard sat on the 
 floor, his back against the wall.
 
 314 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 Marion Curtis had told Jule the story of her own 
 failure and the two were now under the deeper 
 gloom that had fallen upon the place. Presently 
 from the creek shore a shadow came towards the 
 cabin. They both recognized Warren Paxton at 
 once. Marion Curtis touched Jule lightly on the 
 arm and whispered to her. 
 
 "Go in and close the door. I want to speak to 
 Mm alone for a minute." 
 
 Jule withdrew and Marion stepped out. When 
 the door was closed behind her she went directly 
 towards Paxton. 
 
 * ' Good evening, ' ' he said in his usual nonchalant 
 manner. 
 
 She returned his greeting and stood before him. 
 
 "It may be none of my business," she said, "but 
 you are on your way to see John Mackay, aren't 
 you?" 
 
 "I had that in mind," he admitted. "The oc- 
 casion " 
 
 "Not on business," she interrupted. 
 
 * ' That was not my main idea, ' ' he replied. ' ' Of 
 course " 
 
 "Just a minute, Warren Paxton. I always knew 
 you were thick-skinned. But this is going a little 
 too far. You will not talk business with John 
 Mackay to-night." 
 
 "I am making every allowance for the deli- 
 cacies of the situation, Marion Curtis," he res- 
 ponded. '"But you must realize " 
 
 "I realize one thing just now," she put i&
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 315 
 
 again, "and that is that yon will stay away al- 
 together unless, for once, you are willing to act 
 as I wish in the matter/' 
 
 "I'm in no mood to have you interfere with 
 what is entirely my own affair," Paxton blustered. 
 
 "I have moods, too, Warren Paxton," she re- 
 minded him. * ' Just now I don 't want you in there. 
 I'm not so sure that you would be very welcome 
 anyhow." 
 
 "That's my affair and I'm quite capable of 
 looking after it myself." 
 
 He brushed roughly past her and strode towards 
 the cabin. When he reached the door she spoke 
 again. 
 
 "You are going to force me to do something 
 very unpleasant," she warned him. 
 
 His answer was a grin that Marion Curtis 
 could not see from where she stood in the darkness 
 and he opened the door abruptly and went in. A 
 few minutes later there came the sound of a foot- 
 fall on the trail from the Micmac. In a moment 
 the form of Kirk Brander moved out of the sha- 
 dows. He had completed his work at the camp 
 and was returning for Henry Tyne. When he 
 came before the cabin he stopped suddenly and 
 looked at Marion Curtis. She hastened towards 
 him and he met her half way. 
 
 "Go on in," she said quickly. "Paxton has gone 
 in and he's just fool enough now to cause trouble." 
 
 Together they went towards the cabin. Before 
 entering, Marion Curtis laid a hand on Kirk's 
 
 (21)
 
 316 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 arm and lie paused with his hand almost on the 
 latch. For a moment she debated something in 
 her own mind without speaking. Then suddenly 
 her manner changed and she led the way into the 
 cabin. 
 
 What she had feared had already taken place 
 except that Paxton had somehow or other man- 
 aged the discussion in a way that permitted no ap- 
 parent resentment on the part of John Mackay. 
 He had taken his place at the table with Henry 
 Tyne and the old prospector and was talking as 
 pleasantly as if he had come to pay a friendly call. 
 John Mackay was listening silently and Henry 
 Tyne's head was bowed. Kirk and Marion moved 
 quietly towards the table at which the three men 
 were seated and stood above them. 
 
 "I have no wish to hurry matters," Paxton said 
 drawing some papers from his pocket and placing 
 them on the table before him, "but as business 
 men we all understand, I think, just what the situ- 
 ation is. There are urgent matters outside await- 
 ing our decision here and my men must leave in 
 the morning." 
 
 He opened the papers and laid them before John 
 Mackay with as little ostentation as possible. He 
 apparently did not mean to offend. But the mere 
 crackling of the paper as he smoothed it out on the 
 table seemed out of place where all had been so 
 silent before. John Mackay glanced at the papers 
 a moment without touching them and in the deep 
 silence Paxton '& heavy breathing was the only
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 317 
 
 audible sound as they waited. Marion Curtis 
 seemed on the point of speaking but she admitted 
 to herself that any word from her would only 
 make the situation less tolerable. Henry Tyne sat 
 low in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed to- 
 gether nervously. Kirk looked long at his uncle 
 and then fought with all his strength against the 
 desire that arose within him to seize Paxton and 
 throw him out. 
 
 Quietly and slowly John Mackay lifted the 
 papers from the table and began reading them, his 
 lips moving as he did so, but making no sound. 
 When Paxto ndrew from the inner pocket of his 
 coat a cheque made out and signed, Marion Curtis 
 almost unconsciously leaned forward to glance at 
 it. As she did so Jule Allen emerged from her room 
 and coming forward quietly stood beside Marion 
 Curtin and laid a hand on her arm. Marion felt the 
 hand tremble a little and turned to look at the face 
 of the girl beside her. But Jule's eyes were upon 
 John Mackay. 
 
 "This represents the initial payment on the 
 contract/' Paxton said in a tone that was almost 
 indifferent. 
 
 He placed the cheque on the table before John 
 Mackay. Jule Allen withdrew her hand from the 
 arm of Marion Curtis and leaving her side walked 
 quietly to the other side of the table and stood be- 
 hind John Mackay. She watched him while he 
 lifted the cheque in his fingers and looked at it. 
 Then site took her hand from the pocket of her 
 
 (21 A)
 
 318 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 skirt and stepping close behind the old prospector 
 held another piece of paper between him and the 
 cheque he held in his hand. 
 
 John Mackay did not take the paper at first. He 
 looked up at Jule Allen, question in his eyes. 
 
 "To extend the option," she said simply. 
 
 Paxton started forward suddenly and began to 
 question the value of the paper in Jule Allen's 
 hand. 
 
 "Mr. Mackay knows more about that than I do 
 myself," Jule corrected him. "It is his own 
 money I am paying back to him the money he 
 paid me for the White Squaw." 
 
 There was a long period of silence. Presently 
 John Mackay took the cheque from Jule's hand. 
 He held the two cheques before him, one in either 
 hand and laid both on the table. Slowly he picked 
 up Paxton 's papers, folded them, placed Paxton 's 
 cheque within them and handed them across the 
 table to him. Without a word Paxton took the 
 papers and thrust them into his pocket. 
 
 "How long will the extension last?" he asked 
 as he got up and prepared to leave. 
 
 "That will be a matter we'll have to decide 
 later," John Mackay replied. It was the only 
 word he had spoken during the whole transaction. 
 
 When Paxton had gone out Marion Curtis 
 left the group abruptly and followed him. Out- 
 side in the darkness she hurried after him as he 
 strode off towards the creek where his canoe 
 awaited him. When they were out of ear-
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 319 
 
 shot of the cabin she spoke and Paxton turned to 
 meet her. 
 
 "I warned yon against going in there," she said. 
 "It was rotten form and it turned out bad busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Paxton was very angry. "I don't require any 
 comment on the affair from you just now," he 
 snapped. ' l It 's only a matter of a few weeks, any- 
 how. And in the meantime much may happen. 
 This isn't over yet by a long, long way." 
 
 Marion Curtis raised her hand quickly and 
 smiled. "Warren Paxton," she said, "it is over. 
 Why not admit it ?" 
 
 "It will be over when I pull up stakes not till 
 then, "he replied. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment without speak- 
 ing. When he seemed on the point of going she 
 took a step towards him. "Listen to me," she 
 said, "you talked business to-night when I didn't 
 want you to. Now, listen to me while I talk a little 
 business to you." 
 
 "Go ahead," he retorted. 
 
 "You have fought me, Warren Paxton, with 
 whatever means you found, foul or fair, for five 
 years or more. I have lost often in those five 
 years. But I'm not through yet. You may think 
 yon are in no way responsible for what has oc- 
 curred here within the last few hours. They may 
 not think so. But your methods are wrong. If it 
 comes to that mine are wrong. I realize that more 
 clearly just this moment than I ever did before. I
 
 320 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 know because because I have lost again. You've 
 lost- and you ought to have the sense to know 
 there's something wrong with your way of doing 
 things." 
 
 Paxton shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
 
 "Don't be foolish, Warren Paxton," she said. 
 "You and I have no real place here. I'm going to 
 get out and I'm not coming back. I'm going to 
 leave this life to those who want to live it. But 
 for the sake of the game and some of the players 
 in it I'm going to make sure of one thing before I 
 leave. I'm going to make sure that you are going 
 to pull out, too." 
 
 Paxton stepped back from her and grunted his 
 surprise. 
 
 "I'm talking business, Warren Paxton," she 
 persisted, "and for once you had better listen and 
 take my advice, too, in the matter. You think you 
 are going to stay round here and obstruct the 
 work of this mine and wait the first opportunity to 
 get control. Well, I tell you, you are not. It isn't 
 so much Henry Tyne that's going to work this 
 place. He's in our class. The task is Kirk Bran- 
 der's his and and Jule Allen's. You should 
 have seen that long ago. I'd have seen it myself 
 if I hadn 't been blind. Now we 're going to leave it 
 to them. I'm going because there's no place for me 
 here. You're going because it's good business." 
 
 "I'm quite capable of using my own judgment 
 in matters concerning my business interests," 
 Paxton reminded her.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 321 
 
 ' ' Yon 're just wasting time, ' ' she replied. * l Per- 
 haps yon know or maybe yon haven't heard that 
 rumor connects yonr name with John Allen's loss 
 in the rapids on Eat Creek." 
 
 Paxton drew himself up suddenly on the de- 
 fensive. 
 
 "Whether yon know that or not, yon do 
 know and I know what I took the trouble 
 to find out as soon as the rumor reached me. 
 Yon and I know that the Kat Creek affair 
 was your doing. " 
 
 "I'm not concerned with any of your suspicions 
 on anything, Marion Curtis," Paxton declared, 
 "but I do warn yon to bo careful what use you 
 make of my name when yon are airing your sus- 
 picions before others. You might be called upon 
 to prove your case." 
 
 Marion Curtis smiled. 
 
 "Yon amuse me no, yon annoy me," she said 
 impatiently. "It positively annoys me to think 
 that yon don't know me any better after fighting 
 me for five years. Listen to me. I never waste 
 time on suspicions. And I never try bluffing 
 where I'm really in earnest about anything. You 
 know, even better than I do, what it would mean 
 to yon if it was suddenly discovered that John 
 Allen's equipment was lost because yon paid a 
 man to let a cable slip and send the whole thing 
 down the rapids. Yon couldn't get accident in- 
 surance for a week. Don't let's waste time on 
 words, Warren Paxton. This isn 't the place for it.
 
 322 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 You and I are going to get out of here and that's 
 all there is to it." 
 
 "I'll not waste words," Paxton replied. "I'm 
 going to stick here and you won't move me." 
 
 All the fight in Marion Curtis' heart came into 
 her eyes. She clenched her fists and lifted her 
 head in ,the proud way Warren Paxton knew so 
 well and feared, too. 
 
 "Then by George try it!" she challenged. 
 
 Paxton looked across the creek towards his 
 camp. Sounds of men's voices came to them, 
 echoing in the silence of the woods on the creek 
 shores. He listened a while and then turned and 
 looked towards the cabin. As they stood 
 there without speaking, the door of the cabin 
 opened and Jule Allen came out followed by 
 Kirk. 
 
 "Don't you think you'd better be going?" 
 Marion Curtis asked him. 
 
 He would have replied, for it was very plain 
 that something was troubling him but as he was 
 on the point of speaking, the forms of Kirk and 
 Jule approached them from the cabin. Paxton 
 checked himself, and, not knowing whether the 
 situation demanded that he should go or stay, hesi- 
 tated long enough for Kirk and Jule to come 
 within a few feet of them. It was evident from the 
 exclamation of surprise that came suddenly from 
 Jule that neither she nor Kirk had been aware 
 of the two who were standing in the trail until 
 they were almost upon them.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 323 
 
 For a moment Kirk looked at Paxton and then 
 at Marion Curtis. 
 
 "Are we intruding?" he asked. 
 
 Marion Curtis smiled. "I think not," she re- 
 plied. ' ' Are they, Mr. Paxton f ' ' 
 
 Paxton looked at them for a moment without re- 
 plying. Then suddenly he turned on his heel. 
 " Go to the devil ! " he exploded pettishly and went 
 off. 
 
 "The old man seems a little peevish," Kirk re- 
 marked as they watched him go. 
 
 Both Jule and Kirk broke into laughter at Pax- 
 ton's dramatic leave-taking. Marion smiled a 
 little as she dwelt upon the humor of the situation 
 but somehow laughter was not for her. She was 
 not so much older than these two and yet they 
 seemed boy and girl beside her. She was con- 
 scious, too, of a certain irony in the words with 
 which she reminded them of the lateness of the 
 hour. 
 
 "It's time you children were in bed," she re- 
 marked when they had ceased laughing, and to- 
 gether the three turned back towards the cabin. 
 
 At the doorway Jule and Kirk paused and Mar- 
 ion Curtis passed in closing the door behind her. 
 John Mackay was on his feet beside Henry Tyne 
 who had risen to go back to camp as soon as Kirk 
 returned. Marion's entrance drew a glance from 
 Henry Tyne but John Mackay was intent upon 
 something else. In his hands he held the cheque 
 which Jule Allen had given him. Slowly he tore it
 
 324 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 in two, placed the two halves together very de- 
 liberately and tore them again, and yet again. 
 Then he let the small pieces flutter from his fin- 
 gers to the floor. 
 
 "Good-night, Henry Tyne," he said, offering 
 his hand. 
 
 Henry Tyne took the hand and held it in a lin- 
 gering grasp. 
 
 "Good-night, John Mackay," he said unaffect- 
 edly and turning away put on his hat and walked 
 slowly towards the door. 
 
 He 'bade good-night to Marion Curtis and 
 going to the door, met Jule Allen who came in sud- 
 denly, her face glowing with youth but strangely 
 serious. For a moment they regarded each other 
 in silence. Then the old man put his arm about 
 her, kissed her tenderly, and went out. 
 
 A few minutes later Kirk Brander and Henry 
 Tyne entered their cabin. Dags was snoring 
 peacefully in his bunk. Tuck Roberts was sitting 
 where Kirk had left him scarcely an hour before, 
 still smoking cigarettes. He moved slightly as 
 Kirk and his uncle entered but spoke not a word 
 as Henry Tyne, utterly weary from the experi- 
 ences of the past twelve hours, prepared for bed. 
 Kirk sat down in a chair and faced Tuck, and thus 
 they waited without speaking until Henry Tyne's 
 heavy breathing told them that he was asleep. 
 Then they got up and went together to the cabin 
 that did service as office and store-room.
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 325 
 
 % 
 
 There Tuck Eoberts began the story that Kirk 
 had never heard, the story that he had waited for 
 with a suspense that he could hardly bear. Slowly 
 Tuck reviewed the events of his life in the far 
 south, a life that had had unfortunate beginnings 
 and had grown steadily worse until, in a moment 
 of madness, he had taken the life of another. And 
 Kirk listened silently through the night hours 
 until gray dawn appeared at the window. 
 
 When the story was told at last they sat a long 
 time without speaking. In Kirk's mind was being 
 fought the battle that many a man has fought for 
 the sake of friendship. When he spoke at last, 
 his words told how the battle had gone. 
 
 "We must get out of here, Tuck," he said sud- 
 denly and in a tone that was merely matter-of- 
 fact. 
 
 Tuck looked at him and smiled a little. "What 's 
 the use of that, Kirk?" he protested. "They've 
 got my trail again and they '11 never lose it. Keene 
 would follow me for twenty years until he was 
 done or I was." 
 
 They were silent again for a moment. 
 
 "There's even more to it than I've told you, 
 too," Tuck said at last. 
 
 Kirk raised his head expectantly. 
 
 "It it hadn't been for Ruth," Tuck explained, 
 "I'd be doing time now. She produced an alibi 
 and and swore by it. But she knew she knew 
 I had a hand in it." 
 
 Kirk started to his feet in surprise. "Tuck,
 
 326 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 he exclaimed, "you don't mean the the fur?" 
 
 Tuck nodded his head slowly. 
 
 Kirk came and stood over him. He was trem- 
 bling from head to foot. "Then by God, Tuck 
 I ought to I ought to kill you for that ! ' ' 
 
 "That's why I never told you," Tuck replied. 
 "But she she knew and she took her oath- 
 swore we had been together that night putting the 
 dogs a few miles over the course and when I 
 headed straight into the trap they set for me last 
 night she waited for me and you know the rest. 
 Not many of our pure-blood whites would do that 
 for a man, Kirk. Don't you see now that I can't 
 go that I've got to stay and take my medicine. 
 But I won't stay here, Kirk. I'll go out and meet 
 it. Keene is on patrol now. When we hear of him 
 coming there'll be plenty of time." 
 
 He got to his feet and faced Kirk. For a mo- 
 ment the two men looked straight into each other's 
 . eyes, their faces set hard, their brows knit, their 
 * mouths tight drawn. 
 
 Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps with- 
 out and then, Joe Bedard passed the window and 
 came to the door. When Kirk turned quickly and 
 opened the door for him, the half-breed hesitated 
 a moment, looked at Kirk and then at Tuck 
 Eoberts. 
 
 * ' Tuck, ' ' he said. ' l Keene come now up trail. ' ' 
 
 He nodded his head slowly, then lifted his chin 
 towards the trail leading from Jule Allen's cabin. 
 Kirk looked out and saw in the early light the
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 327 
 
 forms of two men coming towards the camp. One 
 was Willoughby of the Saskatchewan force, the 
 other, Keene of the Royal Canadian. 
 
 Kirk stepped back quickly and closed the door. 
 Then, yielding to the impulse that rose suddenly 
 within him, he seized a holster and belt from the 
 wall, thrust it into Tuck's hands and urged him 
 towards the door. 
 
 "Hurry, Tuck," he said, "you can make it. Up 
 the trail to John Mackay's cabin and across " 
 
 "It won't work, Kirk," Tuck protested mildly. 
 
 The door flew open suddenly and Jule Allen 
 rushed towards them, breathless and frightened, 
 her hair about her shoulders and clad lightly in a 
 loose wrap. 
 
 "Tuck, Tuck!" she cried. "They're coming." 
 Then, when she saw that he was not moving, she 
 turned to Kirk. ' ' Tell him, Kirk tell him to go 
 I can't I can't stand " 
 
 She put her hands to her face and Kirk put an 
 arm about her shoulders to steady her. Tuck 
 looked once at her and then at Kirk. They grip- 
 ped hands silently. 
 
 "I'll go on out," he said and then, looking at 
 Jule Allen, "I'll be back in a minute. Yon two 
 wait here." 
 
 He went to the door, turned once for a last look 
 at Kirk and Jule, and with the light of the east on 
 his uplifted face strode away, past the window, 
 and out of sight. For a long moment Kirk stood 
 with his arm about the trembling form of the girl
 
 328 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 On the table before him lay the belt and holster 
 where Tuck had thrown them before he left. And 
 in the dim light of the early morning Kirk saw 
 that the holster was empty. He felt his throat 
 tighten and his breath stop as he waited in an 
 agony of suspense waited waited then, three 
 quick shots shattered the cold silence. 
 
 Jule sobbed, a great heart-breaking sob, and 
 buried her face against his shoulder. Kirk drew 
 her close to him, wondering vaguely about the 
 great heart-hunger that had suddenly seized him. 
 Then, fearing to move, he bowed his head until 
 his lips touched the hair that was pressed to his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Tuck, Tuck," he whispered hoarsely. "Oh, 
 God Tuck!" 
 
 And even as he spoke, the forms of Willoughby 
 and Keene stood in the open doorway where only 
 a few moments before had stood the living form 
 of Tuck Koberts. 
 
 "Sorry, Kirk," Keene said, "but he drew our 
 fire and we had to do it."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 KTBK BRANDER left work somewhat earlier 
 than usual and went to his cabin. For half 
 an hour or more he attended with extrava- 
 gant care to such trifling matters as shaving, wash- 
 ing, and brushing down his stubborn mop of hair. 
 When he looked critically at his reflection in the 
 small mirror that hung above the wash-basin by 
 the door, his approval was only half-hearted. 
 
 "Best I can do," he commented and then hur- 
 ried into his coat. 
 
 From the table he took a half dozen letters that 
 had come in by the mail-carriers late the night 
 before. Quickly he sorted them and picking out 
 one from Marion Curtis, threw the others back 
 upon the table. 
 
 Five minutes later he strode through the camp 
 on the trail that led to Jule Allen's cabin. As he 
 passed the boiler-house the voice of old man Dags 
 came to him from the entrance to the main shaft. 
 
 "Get back early, young fellow," Dags called. 
 "These late hours is playin* hell with business." 
 
 Kirk laughed to himself and hurried along the 
 trail into the woods. It was already late October 
 a full two months since that tragic day in 
 August. Much may happen in even less time but 
 
 329
 
 330 THE LOBSTICK TKAIL 
 
 Kirk's thoughts now were of the rare freshness 
 in the air that already had a little of the crisp tang 
 of autumn in it, and of the glory of simply being 
 alive in such a place and at such a time. 
 
 Where the trail dipped a little towards the 
 water and showed a little bay through an opening 
 in the trees he paused a moment to look at the 
 heavy flat leaves of the pond lilies lying on the 
 water and riding over the ripples as gracefully as 
 if they had been no more than dark green shadows 
 on the surface. Suddenly a little whisking wind 
 turned the water gray and flipped up the edges of 
 the leaves. To Kirk's mind it suggested the cold 
 days that lay just ahead and he hurried away, his 
 heart now warming in anticipation of the hot sup- 
 per that awaited him in the cosy cabin of Jule 
 Allen. 
 
 When, a minute later, he opened the door of the 
 cabin and looked in Jule was not anywhere in 
 sight. 
 
 "Hello!" he called. 
 
 From behind him came the clear note of a girl's 
 laugh. Turning from the door he saw her stand- 
 ing on the top of the great rock above the rapids, 
 her arms outstretched to the brisk breeze that was 
 coming in from the lake. As he went towards her 
 she ran down the path to meet him and almost 
 threw herself laughing into his arms. They kissed 
 each other in happy mood and together went back 
 to the cabin. 
 
 They sat late at supper that night. The early
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 331 
 
 autumn twilight prompted the lighting of a lamp 
 that gave an added touch of cosiness to the place. 
 Kirk was full of the latest developments on the 
 property and the reports he had received by mail 
 the night before from Marion Curtis and Henry 
 Tyne. 
 
 "It's going to be even bigger than I dreamed," 
 he said with full boyish enthusiasm. We '11 have to 
 bring power here, enough power to work one of 
 the biggest mines on this continent. We may have 
 to go all the way to the Burntwood. Jove, it'll make 
 Paxton's little old ideas look like a peep-show in a 
 cigar-box alongside a three-ring circus. We'll 
 have to put in a cofferdam and drain half the lake 
 to work the new ore-body properly It'll take a 
 year or more for the government to build the rail- 
 way in from The Pas but that's settled. And 
 we'll have a town of our own, Jule, with five 
 thousand people. Jove, girl, there's a man-sized 
 job right here that'll take a whole lifetime." 
 
 He got up as he spoke and going round to her 
 side of the table, drew a chair close to hers and sat 
 down. Under the great urge of the vision that 
 challenged his imagination he put his arms about 
 her. 
 
 "A man-sized job!" he repeated and kissed her 
 almost roughly. 
 
 She pushed him back a little and looked at him. 
 
 "And the woman-sized job?" she asked him. 
 
 "Making a man man's size," he smiled. 
 
 She got up and went to a small stand in one
 
 332 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 corner of the room. "I got a letter last flight, too," 
 she said. 
 
 When she came back to him and sat down she 
 held an open page of a letter from Marion Curtis 
 before him. She folded part of it back and held 
 before his eyes a couple of lines that she indicated 
 with her fingers. Kirk read them slowly "Jule, 
 dear, you do not know how rich you are. You are 
 too young and too happy. And you cannot un- 
 derstand how poor I am. But that's the way of 
 the world good luck to you, dear, and to you 
 both." 
 
 Kirk was thoughtful for a moment. "Marion's 
 a good old scout," he said finally with great seri- 
 ousness. "Do you know something?" 
 
 Jule looked up at him as she folded the letter 
 and laid it on the table. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I believe she had something to do with forcing 
 Paxton to pull up stakes so suddenly and get out 
 of the country," Kirk suggested. "Something 
 happened something made him duck for cover. 
 No man leaves what he left the way he left it 
 unless he has a reason." 
 
 "You'll never know from Marion," Jnle re- 
 plied, "unless she chooses to tell you." 
 
 "Well," Kirk commented quietly, "Marion 
 doesn't make many mistakes. If she chooses 
 not " 
 
 "She has made one mistake," Jule interrupted. 
 
 He looked at her expectantly,
 
 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 333 
 
 "When she says I don't know how rich I am," 
 she said and leaned towards him. 
 
 The long silence that followed was broken at 
 last by the sound of voices from the creek. 
 
 * 'There they are!" Jnle cried leaping up and 
 running to the door. 
 
 Kirk was beside her as soon as she had thrown 
 the door open and together they looked out into 
 the gathering dusk. Two Indians were pulling 
 the bows of two canoes up unto the shore. When 
 the canoes were steady the figures of three men 
 got out one after another and came towards the 
 cabin. 
 
 The first was that of Henry Tyne who took Jule 
 in his arms as she met him and kissed her, laugh- 
 ing, before he gave his hand to Kirk. Behind him 
 came old John Mackay, hailing tnera heartily as 
 he passed them lugging a pack towards the cabin. 
 Last came the slight, dark-cloaked, energetic form 
 of the venerable little father of the mission at 
 Cumberland House. 
 
 "Nothing to do now but declare a holiday and 
 invite the men to the feast," Henry Tyne laughed 
 as Kirk and Jule escorted the old missionary to- 
 wards the cabin. 
 
 And when they had gone in and had closed the 
 door behind them the old lobstick that stood with 
 arms outstretched above the rapids bowed his 
 tufted head before a stiff night wind. And one 
 that did not know might have thought his head 
 was bowed because of the three mounds that lay
 
 334 THE LOBSTICK TRAIL 
 
 side by side under the shelter of the lower 
 branches. But in days to come he stood up in all 
 his sentinel dignity, the guardian of happy hearts 
 that had found satisfaction in a great work and 
 comfort in a great love. 
 
 THE END
 
 EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS 
 _ NOVELS 
 
 May ba had wtiertvar books ara sold. Ask for Gressrt * DunUp's list 
 
 TARZAN THE UNTAMED 
 
 Tells of Tarzan' s return to the life of the ape-man in 
 his search for vengeance on those who took from him his 
 wife and home. 
 
 JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN 
 
 Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan 
 proves his right to ape kingship. 
 
 A PRINCESS OF MARS 
 
 Forty-three million miles from the earth a succession 
 of the weirdest and most astounding adventures in fiction. 
 John Carter, American, finds himself on the planet Mars, 
 battling for a beautiful woman, with the Green Men of 
 Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on 
 horses like dragons. 
 
 THE GODS OF MARS 
 
 Continuing John Carter' s adventures on the Planet Mars, 
 in which he does battle against the ferocious "plant men," 
 creatures whose mighty tails swished their victims to instant 
 death, and defies Issus, the terrible Goddess of Death, \ 
 whom all Mars worships and reveres. 
 
 Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reap- 
 pear, Tars Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a 
 happy ending to the story in the union of the Warlord 
 the tide conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah Thoris. 
 
 THUVIA, MAID OF MARS 
 
 The fourth volume of the series. The story centers 
 around the adventures of Carthoris, the son of John Car 
 ter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian Emperor. 
 
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 JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S 
 
 STORIES OF ADVENTUR.E 
 
 i - . - 
 
 May be had wherevr bookt art sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 
 
 THE RIVER'S END~ 
 
 A story of the Royal Mounted Police. 
 THE GOLDEN SNARE 
 
 Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. 
 NOMADS OF THE NORTH 
 
 The story of a bear-cub and a dog. 
 KAZAN 
 
 The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky' torn* 
 between the call of the human and his wild mate. 
 
 BAREE, SON OF KAZAN 
 
 The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the galiauL par* 
 he played in the lives of a man and a woman. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM 
 
 The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and hi* 
 battle with Captain Plum. 
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the Nort!- 
 THE HUNTED WOMAN 
 
 A tale of a great fight in the " valley of gold " for a woman. 
 THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH 
 
 The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness. 
 is blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. 
 
 THE GRIZZLY KING 
 
 The story of Thor, the big grizzly. 
 I&OBEL 
 
 A love story of the Far North. 
 THE WOLF HUNTERS 
 
 A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness 
 THE GOLD HUNTERS 
 
 The story of adventura in the Hudson Bay wilds. 
 THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE 
 
 Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and womea, 
 BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY 
 
 A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was mad 
 from this book. 
 
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 ZANE GREY'S NOVELS 
 
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 THE MAN OF THE FOREST 
 
 THE DESERT OF WHEAT 
 
 THE U. P. TRAIL 
 
 WILDFIRE 
 
 THE BORDER LEGION 
 
 THE RAINBOW TRAIL 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT 
 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE 
 
 THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS 
 
 THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN 
 
 THE LONE STAR RANGER 
 
 DESERT GOLD 
 
 BETTY ZANE 
 
 *** 
 LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS 
 
 The Bfe story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cod? 
 Wetmore, with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. 
 
 ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS 
 
 KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE 
 
 THE YOUNG LION HUNTER 
 
 THE YOUNG FORESTER 
 
 THE YOUNG PITCHER 
 
 THE SHORT STOP 
 
 THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER 
 
 BASEBALL STORIES 
 
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 GRQBSET & DUNLAP. PUBLISHERS, NEW YOBS
 
 STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY 
 
 GENE STRATTON-PORTER 
 
 May ba had wherever hooks are sold. Ask for Grtsset & Dunlap's list 
 
 MICHAEL O'HALLORAN. Illustrated by Frances Rogers. 
 
 Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy , living in Northern 
 Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also a> 
 sumes the responsibility of leading the entire rural community up- 
 ward and onwardt 
 LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. 
 
 This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The 
 story is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, 
 but it is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love 
 affairs of older members of the family. Chief among them is that 
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 the neighborhood and about whose family there hangs a mystery. 
 THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. 
 
 " The Harvester, " is a man of the woods and fields, and if the 
 book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would 
 be notable. But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," 
 there begins a romance of the rarest idyllic quality. 
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 Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in 
 which he takes hold of life ; the nature friendships he forms in the 
 great Limberlost Swamp ; the manner in which everyone who meeta 
 him succumbs to the charm of his engaging personality ; and his 
 love-story with " The Angel " are full of real sentiment, 
 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. ^Illustrated. 
 
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 type of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and 
 kindness towards all things ; her hope is never dimmed. And by 
 the sheer beauty of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from 
 barren and unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. 
 
 The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. 
 The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing 
 love. The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of 
 nature, and its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. 
 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. 
 
 A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy 
 and humor.
 
 FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S 
 NOVELS 
 
 _Jjayj^had wherever book8~arers^d. Ask tor Grosstt & Dunlap's list 
 
 THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER 
 
 A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she 
 had lost her lover, enters a convent. He returns, and in- 
 teresting developments follow. 
 
 THE UPAS TREE 
 
 A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful 
 
 author and his wife. 
 
 THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE 
 
 The story of a seven day courtship, in which the dis- 
 crepancy in ages vanished into insignificance before the 
 convincing demonstration of abiding love. 
 
 THE ROSARY 
 
 The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty 
 above all else in the world, but who, when blinded through 
 an accident, gains life's greatest happiness. A rare story 
 of the great passion of two real people superbly capable of 
 love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward. 
 
 THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE 
 
 The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the 
 death of a husband who never understood her, meets a fine, 
 clean young chap who is ignorant of her title and they fall 
 deeply in love with each other. When he learns her real 
 identity a situation of singular power is developed. 
 
 THE BROKEN HALO 
 
 The story of a young man whose religious belief was 
 shattered in childhood and restored to him by the little 
 white lady, many years older than himself, to whom he is 
 passionately devoted. <, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR 
 
 The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for 
 Africa, marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her 
 fulfill the conditions of her uncle's will, and how they finally 
 come to love each other and are reunited after experiences 
 that soften and purify. 
 
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 Hay be had wheravar books are sold. Ask for Grossat ft Dunlap's list 
 
 THE LAMP IN THE DESERT 
 
 The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and 
 tells of the lamp of love that continues to shine through 
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 GREATHEART 
 
 The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals 
 a noble soul. 
 
 THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE 
 
 A hero who worked to win even when there was only 
 * ' a hundredth chance." 
 
 THE SWINDLER 
 
 The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a 
 woman's faith. 
 
 THE TIDAL WAVE 
 
 Talcs of love and of women who learned to know the 
 true from the false. 
 
 THE SAFETY CURTAIN 
 
 A very vivid love story of India. The volume also 
 contains four other long stories of equal interest 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORR
 
 ELEANOR H. PORTER'S NOVELS 
 
 May b tgdjggrroer book? are soil .Atk for Grosset * Dcntip' iut 
 JUST DAVID 
 
 The tale of a loveable boy and the place he comes to 
 fill in the hearts of the gruff farmer folk to whose care h* 
 
 is left. 
 
 THE ROAD TO UNDERSTANDING 
 
 A compelling romance of love and marriage. 
 OH, MONEY ! MONEY ! 
 
 Stanley Fulton, a wealthy bachelor, to test the disposi- 
 tions of his relatives, sends them each a check for $100,- 
 000, and tben as plain John Smith comes among them ic 
 watch the result of his experiment. 
 
 SIX STAR RANCH 
 
 A wholesome story of a club of six girls and their sum- 
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 DAWN 
 
 The story of a blind boy whose courage leads him 
 through the gulf of despair into a final victory gained by 
 dedicating his life to the service of blind soldiers. 
 
 .ACROSS THE YEARS 
 
 Short stories oJ our own kind and of our own people. 
 Contains some of the best writing Mrs. Porter has done. 
 
 THE TANGLED THREADS 
 
 In these stories we find the concentrated charm an# 
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 THE TIE THAT BINDS 
 
 Intensely human stories told with Mrs. Porter's won* 
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 GSOSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW
 
 "STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY 
 
 GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
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 JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR 
 
 Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, 
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 Her faith and sincerity catch at your heart strings. Thu, 
 book has all of the mystery and tense action of the othei 
 Storm Country books. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary 
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 How love acts upon a temperament such as hers a tem- 
 perament that makes a woman an angel or an outcast, ac- 
 cording to the character of the man she loves is the 
 theme of the story. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 The sequel to " Tess of the Storm Country," with the 
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 ters tempestuous, passionate, brooding. Tess learns the 
 " secret " of her birth and finds happiness and love through 
 her boundless faith in life. 
 
 FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING 
 
 A haunting story with its scene laid near the country 
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 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 " Jinny " Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a pas< 
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 A*k for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
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 THE NOVELS OF 
 GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 
 
 THE BEST MAN 
 
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 A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
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 THE ENCHANTED BARN 
 
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 THE WITNESS 
 
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 MARCIA SCHUYLER 
 
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 LO. MICHAEL ! 
 
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 JPHOEBE DEANE 
 
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 DAWN OF THE MORNING 
 
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 GLENGARRY SCHOOL DAYS 
 
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 THE DOCTOR 
 
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 A tale of the Saskatchewan and of a " foreigner " who 
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 CORPORAL CAMERON 
 
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 SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. 
 
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 FENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. 
 
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 folks. It is a finished, exquisite work. 
 
 PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. 
 
 Like " Penrod " and " Seventeen," this book contains 
 Borne remarkable phases of real boyhood and some of the best 
 rtories of juvenile pranktshness that have ever been written. 
 
 THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. 
 
 Bibbs Sheridan ia a dreamy, imaginative youth, who re- 
 volts against his fathers plans for him to be a servitor of 
 big business. The love of a fine girl turns Bibb's life from 
 failure to success. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. 
 
 A story of love and politics, more especially a picture of 
 a country editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book 
 lies in the love interest. 
 
 THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. 
 
 The " Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's 
 engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder 
 of another, leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end 
 marries a stupid and unpromising suitor, leaving the really 
 worthy one to marry her sister. 
 
 Aak for Compleie free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YOBK
 
 KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlzp's list 
 
 SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. 
 
 The California Redwoods furnish the background for this 
 beautiful story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. 
 
 POOR. DEAR. MARGARET KIRBY. 
 Frontispiece by George Gibbs. 
 
 A collection of delightful stories, including " Bridging the 
 Years " and ' ' The Tide-Marsh. ' ' This story is now shown in 
 moving pictures. 
 
 JOSSELYN'S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. 
 
 The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight fo> 
 happiness and lore. 
 
 MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. 
 Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. 
 The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. 
 
 THE HEART OF RACHAEL. 
 Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. 
 
 An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come 
 with a second marriage. 
 
 THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. 
 
 Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. 
 
 |T~A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure 
 
 and lonely, for the happiness of life. 
 
 SATURDAY'S CHILD. Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. 
 
 Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through 
 sheer determination to the better things for which her soul 
 hungered ? 
 
 MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background 
 of every girl's life, and some dreams which came true. 
 
 A*k for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 000042142