THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 He turned his eyes again into the North. Page 16
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD 
 
 McKINLAY, STONE & MACKENZIE 
 
 NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT 1910 
 COSMOPOLITAN BOOK CORPORATION 
 
 The Danger Trail
 
 f 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I THE GIHL OF THE SNOWS .... 1 
 II LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT . . . .14 
 
 III THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK . . . .28 
 
 IV THE WARNING 39 
 
 V ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR . . .69 
 
 VI THE LOVE OF A MAN 88 
 
 VII THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE . . . 106 
 VIII THE HOTTH OF DEATH . . . .126 
 
 IX THE TRYST 140 
 
 X A RACE INTO THE NORTH .... 151 
 
 XI THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH . . 170 
 
 XII THE FIGHT 192 
 
 XIII THE PURSUIT . . ... . .206 
 
 XIV THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT . . .221 
 XV IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER . . . 243 
 
 XVI JEAN S STORY 263 
 
 XVII MELEESE . 287 
 
 657352
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 FOR perhaps the first time in his life How- 
 land felt the spirit of romance, of adven 
 ture, of sympathy for the picturesque and the 
 unknown surging through his veins. A billion 
 stars glowed like yellow, passionless eyes in the 
 polar cold of the skies. Behind him, white in its 
 sinuous twisting through the snow-smothered 
 wilderness, lay the icy Saskatchewan, with a few 
 scattered lights visible where Prince Albert, 
 the last outpost of civilization, came down to the 
 fiver half a mile away. 
 
 But it was into the North that Howland looked. 
 From the top of the great ridge which he had 
 1
 
 climbed he gazed steadily into the white gloom 
 which reached for a thousand miles from where 
 he stood to the Arctic Sea. Faintly in the grim 
 silence of the winter night there came to his ears 
 the soft hissing sound of the aurora borealis as 
 it played in its age-old song over the dome of 
 the earth, and as he watched the cold flashes 
 shooting like pale arrows through the distant sky 
 and listened to its whispering music of unending 
 loneliness and mystery, there came on him a 
 strange feeling that it was beckoning to him and 
 calling to him telling him that up there very 
 near to the end of the earth lay all that he had 
 dreamed of and hoped for since he had grown 
 old enough to begin the shaping of a destiny of 
 his own. 
 
 H]e shivered as the cold nipped at his blood, 
 and lighted a frsh cigar, half-turning to shield 
 himself from a wind that was growing out of the 
 east. As the match flared in the cup of his handa 
 for an instant there came from the black gloom 
 of the balsam and spruce at his feet a wailing,
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 huDgerful cry that brought a startled breath 
 from his lips. It was a cry such as Indian dogs 
 nake about the tepees of masters who are newly 
 iead. He had never heard such a cry before, and 
 yet he knew that it was a wolf s. It impressed 
 him with an awe which was new to him and he 
 stood as motionless as the trees about him until, 
 from out the gray night-gloom to the west, there 
 came an answering cry, and then, from far to the 
 north, still another. 
 
 "Sounds as though I d better go back to 
 town," he said to himself, speaking aloud. "By 
 George, but it s lonely !" 
 
 He descended the ridge, walked rapidly over 
 the hard crust of the snow across the Saskatche 
 wan, and assured himself that he felt consider 
 ably easier when the lights of Prince Albert 
 gleamed a few hundred yards ahead of him. 
 
 Jack Howland was a Chicago man, which 
 /neans that he was a hustler, and not overbur 
 dened with sentiment. For fifteen of his thirty- 
 One years he had been hustling. Since he could 
 3
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 easily remember, he had possessed to a large 
 measure but one ambition and one hope. With a 
 persistence which had left him peculiarly a 
 stranger to the more frivolous and human sides 
 of life he had worked toward the achievement of 
 this ambition, and to-night, because that achieve 
 ment was very near at hand, he was happy. He 
 had never been happier. There flashed across his 
 mental vision a swiftly moving picture of the 
 fight he had made for success. It had been a 
 magnificent fight. Without vanity he was proud 
 of it, for fate had handicapped him at the begin 
 ning, and still he had won out. He saw himself 
 again the homeless little farmer boy setting out 
 from his Illinois village to take up life in a great 
 city ; as though it had all happened but yesterday 
 he remembered how for days and weeks he had 
 nearly starved, how he had sold papers at first, 
 and then, by lucky chance, became errand boy 
 in a big drafting establishment. It was there that 
 the ambition was born in him. He saw great 
 engineers come and go men who werp greater
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 than presidents to him, and who sought out the 
 ends of the earth in the following of their voca* 
 tion. He made a slave of himself in the nurturing 
 juid strengthening of his ambition to become one 
 of them to be a builder of railroads and bridges, 
 a tunneler of mountains, a creator of new things 
 in new lands. His slavery had not lessened as 
 his years increased. Voluntarily he had kept him 
 self in bondage, fighting ceaselessly the obstacles 
 in his way, triumphing over his handicaps as fr f) 
 other men had triumphed, rising, slowly, steaj 
 ily, resistlessly, until now He flung back his 
 head and the pulse of his heart quickened as he 
 heard again the words of Van Horn, president of 
 the greatest engineering company on th~ con 
 tinent. 
 
 "Howland, we ve decided to put you in charg* 
 of the building of the Hudson Bay Railroad 
 It s one of the wildest jobs we ve ever had, and 
 Gregson and Thome don t seem to catch on. 
 They re bridge builders and not wilderness men. 
 We ve got to lay a single line of steel through 
 5
 
 three hundred miles of the wildest country in 
 North America, and from this hour your motto 
 is Do it or bust ! You can report at Le Pas af 
 soon as you get your traps together." 
 
 Those words had broken the slavedom for 
 Rowland. He had been fighting for an oppor 
 tunity, and now that the opportunity had come 
 he was sure that he would succeed. Swiftly, with 
 his hands thrust deep in his pockets, he walked 
 down the one main street of Prince Albert, puf 
 fing out odorous clouds of smoke from his cigar, 
 every fiber in him tingling with the new joy that 
 had come into his life. Another night would see 
 him in Le Pas, the little outpost sixty miles far 
 ther east on the Saskatchewan. Then a hundred 
 miles by dog-sledge and he would be in the big 
 wilderness camp where three hundred men were 
 already at work clearing a way to the great baj 
 to the north. What a glorious achievement thai 
 road would be! It would remain for all time as 
 a cenotaph to his ability, his courage and in 
 domitable persistence. 
 
 6
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 Ic was past nine o clock when Rowland ett 
 tered the little old Windsor Hotel. The big room, 
 through the windows of which he could look out 
 fin the street and across the frozen Saskatchewan, 
 was almost empty. The clerk had locked his 
 cigar-case and had gone to bed. In one corner, 
 partly shrouded in gloom, sat a half-breed trap 
 per who had come in that day from the Lac la 
 Ronge country, and at his feet crouched one of 
 his wolfish sledge-dogs. Both were wide-awake 
 and stared curiously at Howland as he came in. 
 In front of the two large windows sat half a 
 dozen men, as silent as the half-breed, clad in 
 moccasins and thick caribou skin coats. One of 
 them was the factor from a Hudson Bay post at 
 Lac Bain who had not been down to the edge of 
 civilization for three years ; the others, including 
 two Crees and a Chippewayan, were hunters and 
 Post men who had driven in their furs from a 
 hundred miles to the north. 
 
 For a moment Howland paused in the middle 
 f t.Vio room and looked about him. Ordinarily he 
 7
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 would have liked this quiet, and would have gone 
 to one of the two rude tables to write a letter OB 
 tfork out a problem of some sort, for he always 
 carried a pocketful of problems about with him. 
 His fifteen years of study and unceasing slavery) 
 to his ambition had made him naturally as taci 
 turn as these grim men of the North, who were 
 born to silence. But to-night there had come a 
 change over him. He wanted to talk. Hie wanted 
 to ask questions. He longed for human compan 
 ionship, for some kind of mental exhilaration be 
 yond that furnished by his own thoughts. Feel 
 ing in his pocket for a cigar he seated himself 
 before one of the windows and proffered it to the 
 factor from Lac Bain. 
 
 "You smoke?" he asked companionably. 
 
 *1 was born in a wigwam," said the facto* 
 slowly, taking the cigar. "Thank vou." 
 
 "Deuced polite for a man who hasn t seetf 
 
 civilization for three years," thought Rowland, 
 
 seating himself comfortably, with his feet on the 
 
 window-sill. Aloud he said, "The clerk tells me 
 
 8
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 you are from Lac Bain. That s a good distanc* 
 north, isn t it?" 
 
 "Four hundred miles," replied the factor with 
 quiet terseness. "We re on the edge of the Bar 
 ren Lands." 
 
 "Whew!" Howland shrugged his shoulders. 
 Then he volunteered, "I m going north myself 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Postman?" 
 
 "No ; engineer. I m putting through the Hud 
 son Bay Railroad." 
 
 He spoke the words quite clearly and as they 
 fell from his lips the half-breed, partly concealed 
 in the gloom behind him, straightened with the 
 alert quickness of a cat. He leaned forward 
 eagerly, his black eyes gleaming, and then rose 
 softly from his seat. His moccasined feet made 
 no sound as he came up behind Howland. It was 
 the big huskie who first gave a sign of his pres 
 ence. For a moment the upturned eyes of the 
 young engineer met those of the half-breed. 
 That look gave Howland a glimpse of a face 
 9
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 which he could never forget a thin, dark, sensi 
 tive face framed in shining, jet-black hair, and 
 3, pair of eyes that were the most beautiful he 
 had ever seen in a man. Sometimes a look de 
 cides great friendship or bitter hatred between 
 men. And something, nameless, unaccountable, 
 passed between these two. Not until the half- 
 breed had turned and was walking swiftly away 
 did Howland realize that he wanted to speak to 
 him, to grip him by the hand, to know him by 
 name. He watched the slender form of the North 
 erner, as lithe and us graceful in its movement as 
 a wild thing of the forests, until it passed from 
 the door out into the night. 
 
 "Who was that?" he asked, turning to the 
 factor. 
 
 "His name is Croisset. He comes from the 
 Wholdaia country, beyond Lac la Ronge." 
 
 "French?" 
 
 "Half French, half Cree." 
 
 The factor resumed his steady gaze out into 
 the white distance of the night, and Howland 
 10
 
 THE GIRL OF THE SNOWS 
 
 gave up his effort at conversation. After a little 
 his companion shoved back his chair and bad* 
 him good night. The Crees and Chippewayar 
 followed him, and a few minutes later the two 
 vhite hunters left the engineer alone before the 
 windows. 
 
 "Mighty funny people," he said half aloud. 
 -Wonder if they ever talk !" 
 
 He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hi& 
 hice resting in his hands, and stared to catch a 
 sign of moving life outside. In him there was no 
 desire for sleep. Often he had called himself a 
 night-bird, but seldom had he been more wakeful 
 than on this night. The elation of his triumph, 
 of his success, had not yet worn itself down to a 
 normal and reasoning satisfaction, and h ft chief 
 longing was for the day, and the day after that, 
 and the next day, when he would take the place 
 of Gregson and Thome. Every muscle in hi? 
 body was vibrant in its desire for action. He 
 looked at his watch. It was only ten o clock. 
 <ince supper he had smoked almost ceaselessly. 
 II
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Now he lighted another cigar and stood up close 
 co one of th< windows. 
 
 Faintly he caught the sound of a step on tht 
 board walk outside. It was a light, quick step, 
 and for an instant it hesitated, just out of his 
 vision. Then it approached, and suddenly the 
 figure of a woman stopped in front of the win 
 dow. How she was dressed Rowland could not 
 have told a moment later. All that he saw was 
 the face, white in the white night a face on 
 which the shimmering starlight fell as it was 
 lifted to his gaze, beautiful, as clear-cut as a 
 cameo, with eyes that looked up at him half- 
 pleadingly, half-luringly, and lips parted, as if 
 about to speak to him. He stared, moveless in 
 his astonishment, and in another breath the face 
 was gone. 
 
 With a hurried exclamation he ran across the 
 anpty room to the door and looked down the 
 starlit street. To go from the window to the door 
 took him but a few seconds, yet he found the 
 street deserted deserted except for a solitary 
 12
 
 figure three blocks away and a dog that growled 
 at him as he thrust out his head and shoulders. 
 He heard no sound of footsteps, no opening or 
 closing of a door. Only there came to him that 
 faint, hissing music of the northern skies, and 
 once more, from the black forest beyond the Sas 
 katchewan, the infinite sadness of the wolf-howL
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 UPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 HOWLAND was not a man easily suscepfr 
 ble to a pair of eyes and a pretty face. 
 The practical side of his nature was too much 
 absorbed in its devices and schemes for the build 
 ing of material things to allow the breaking in 
 of romance. At least Rowland had always com 
 plimented himself on this fact, and he laughed a 
 little nervously as he went back to his seat near 
 the window. He was conscious that a flush of un 
 usual excitement had leaped into his cheeks and 
 already the practical side of him was ashamed of 
 that to which the romantic side had surrendered. 
 
 "The deuce, but she was pretty P* he excused 
 f&nself . "And those eyes " 
 
 Suddenly he checked himself. There had been 
 more than the eyes ; more than the pretty face ! 
 Why had the girl paused in front of the win 
 14
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 dtow? Why had she looked at hiiii so intently, as 
 tWragh on the point of speech? The smile and 
 th* flush left his face as these questions came to 
 him >nd he wondered if he had failed to compre^ 
 hend something which she had meant him to un 
 derstand. After all, might it not have been a* 
 case of mistaken identity ? For a moment she had 
 believed that she recognized him then, seeing 
 her mistake, had passed swiftly down the street. 
 Under ordihetry circumstances Rowland would 
 have accepted *his solution of the incident. But 
 to-night he was in an unusual mood, and it 
 quickly occurred Jo him that even if his supposi 
 tion were true it ch ^, not explain the pallor in the 
 girl s face and th& strange entreaty which had 
 glowed for an instanr in her eyes. 
 
 Anyway it was nowe of his business, and he 
 walked casually to the Joor. At the end of the 
 street, a quarter of a mile distant, a red light 
 burned feebly over the front of a Chinese restau 
 rant, and in a mechanical fashion his footsteps 
 led him in that direction. 
 15
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "I ll drop in and have a cup of tea," he as 
 sured himself, throwing away the stub of his 
 cigar and filling his lungs with great breaths of 
 the cold, dry air. "Lord, but it s a glorious 
 night ! I wish Van Horn could see it." 
 
 He stopped and turned his eyes again into the 
 North. Its myriad stars, white and unshivering, 
 the elusive play of the mysterious lights hover 
 ing over the pole, and the black edge of the wil 
 derness beyond the river were holding a greater 
 and greater fascination for him. Since morning, 
 when he had looked on that wilderness for the 
 first time in his life, new blood had entered into 
 him, and he rejoiced that it was this wonderful 
 world which was to hold for him success and for 
 tune. Never had he dreamed that the mere joy 
 of living would appeal to him as it did now ; that 
 the act of breathing, of seeing, of looking on 
 Bonders in which his hands had taken no part ir 
 the making, would fill him with the indefinable 
 pleasure which had suddenly become his experi 
 ence. He wondered, as he still stood gazing into 
 16
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 the infinity of that other world beyond the Sas 
 katchewan, if romance was really quite dead in 
 him. Always he had laughed at romance. Work 
 the grim reality of action, of brain fighting 
 brain, of cleverness pitted against other men s 
 cleverness had almost brought him to the point 
 of regarding romance in life as a peculiar illu~ 
 sion of fools and women. But he was fair in his 
 concessions, and to-night he acknowledged that 
 he had enjoyed the romance of what he had seen 
 and heard. And most of all, his blood had been 
 stirred by the beautiful face that had looked 
 at him from out of the night. 
 
 The tuneless thrumming of a piano sounded be 
 hind him. As he passed through the low door of 
 the restaurant a man and woman lurched past 
 him and in their irresolute faces and leering stare 
 he read the verification of his suspicions of the 
 place. Through a second door he entered a large 
 loom filled with tables and chairs, and pregnant 
 ffith strange odors. At one of the farther tables 
 sat a long-queued Chinaman with his head bowed 
 17
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 in Ins arms. Behind a counter stood a second, as 
 motionless as an obelisk in the half gloom of the 
 dimly illuminated room, his evil face challenging 
 Rowland as he entered. The sound of a pianc 
 came from above and with a bold and friendly 
 nod the young engineer mounted a pair of stairs. 
 
 "Tough joint," he muttered, falling into his 
 old habit of communing with himself. "Hope 
 they make good tea." 
 
 At the sound of his footsteps on the stair the 
 playing of the piano ceased. He was surprised 
 at what greeted him above. In startling contrast 
 to the loathsome environment below he entered a 
 luxuriously appointed room, heavily hung with 
 oriental tapestries, and with half a dozen onyx 
 tables partially concealed behind screens and 
 gorgeously embroidered silk curtains. At one of 
 these he seated himself and signaled for service 
 with the tiny bell near his hand. In response 
 there appeared a young Chinaman with close- 
 cropped hair and attired in evening dress. 
 
 **A pot of tea," ordered Hbwland ; and under 
 18
 
 IPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 his breath he added, "Pretty deuced good for 
 wilderness town ! I wonder " 
 
 He looked about him curiously. Although it 
 Was only eleven o clock the place appeared to be 
 empty. Yet Howland was reasonably assured 
 that it was not empty. He was conscious of sens 
 ing in a vague sort of way the presence of others 
 somewhere near him. He was sure that there was 
 a faint, acrid odor lurking above that of burned 
 incense, and he shrugged his shoulders with con* 
 viction when he paid a dollar for his pot of tea. 
 
 "Opium, as sure as your name is Jack How- 
 land," he said, whon the waiter was gone. "I 
 wonder again how many pots of tea do they 
 sell in a night ?" 
 
 He sipped his own leisurely, listening with all 
 the eagerness of the new sense of freedom which 
 had taken possession of him. The Chinaman had 
 scarcely disappeared when he heard footsteps on 
 the stair. In another instant a low word of sur 
 prise almost leaped from his lips. Hesitating for 
 a moment in the doorway, her face staring 
 19
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 iraight into his own, was the girl whom he had 
 seen through the hotel window ! 
 
 For perhaps no more than five seconds their 
 ejes met. Yet in that time there was painted OD 
 his memory a picture that Rowland knew he 
 would never forget. His was a nature, because 
 of the ambition imposed on it, that had never 
 taken more than a casual interest in the form and 
 feature of women. He had looked on beautiful 
 faces and had admired them in a cool, dispas 
 sionate way, judging them when he judged at 
 all as he might have judged the more material 
 workmanship of his own hands. But this face 
 that was framed for a few brief moments in the 
 door reached out to him and stirred an interest 
 within him which was as new as it was pleasur 
 able. It was a beautiful face. He knew that in 
 a fraction of the first second. It was not white, 
 as he had first seen it through the window. The 
 girl s cheeks were flushed. Her lips were parted, 
 and she was breathing quickly, as though from 
 the effect of climbing the stair. But it was her 
 20
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 eyes that sent Rowland s blood a little faster 
 through his veins. They were glorious eyes. 
 
 The girl turned from his gaze and seated her 
 self at a table so that he caught only her profile. 
 The change delighted him. It afforded him an 
 other view of the picture that had appeared to 
 him in the doorway, and he could study it with 
 out being observed in the act, though he was con 
 fident that the girl knew his eyes were on her. 
 He refilled his tiny cup with tea and smiled when 
 he noticed that she could easily have seated her 
 self behind one of the screens. From the flush 
 in her cheeks his eyes traveled critically to the 
 rich glow of the light in her shining brown hair, 
 which swept half over her ears in thick, soft 
 waves, caught in a heavy coil low on her neck. 
 Then, for the first time, he noticed her dress. It 
 puzzled him. Her turban and muff were of deep 
 gray lynx fur. Around her shoulders was a col 
 larette of the same material. Her hands were 
 immaculately gloved. In every feature of her 
 lovely face, in every point of her dress, she bore 
 21
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Che indisputable mark of refinement. The quiz 
 zical smile left his lips. The thoughts which at 
 first had filled his mind as quickly disappeared 
 Who was she? Why was she here? 
 
 With cat-like quietness the young Chinaman 
 entered between the screens and stood beside her. 
 On a small tablet which Rowland had not before 
 observed she wrote her order. It was for tea. 
 He noticed that she gave the waiter a dollar bill 
 in payment and that the Chinaman returned 
 seventy-five cents to her in change. 
 
 "Discrimination," he chuckled to himself. 
 "Proof that she s not a stranger here, and knows 
 the price of things." 
 
 He poured his last half cup of tea and when 
 he lifted his eyes he was surprised to find that the 
 girl was looking at him. For a brief interval her 
 gaze was steady and clear; then the ush deep 
 ened in her cheeks; her long lashes drooped ay 
 the cold gray of Rowland s eyes met hers in un 
 flinching challenge, and she turned to her tea. 
 Hbwland noted that the hand which lifted the
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 little Japanese pot was trembling slightly. He 
 leaned forward, and as if impelled by the move 
 ment, the girl turned her face to him again, the 
 tea-urn poised above her cup. In her dark eyes 
 was an expression which half brought him to his 
 feet, a wistful glow, a pathetic and yet half- 
 frightened appeal to him. He rose, his eyes 
 questioning her, and to his unspoken inquiry 
 her lips formed themselves into a round, red O, 
 and she nodded to the opposite side of her table. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said, seating him 
 self. "May I give you my card?" 
 
 He felt as if there was something brutally in 
 decent in what he was doing and the knowledge 
 of it sent a red flush to his cheeks. The girl read 
 his name, smiled across the table at him, and 
 with a pretty gesture, motioned him to bring his 
 cup and share her tea with her. He returned to 
 his table and when he came back with the cup in 
 his hand she was writing on one of the pages of 
 the tablet, which she passed across to him. 
 
 "You must pardon me for not talking," he 
 23
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 read, * I can hear you very well, but I, unfor 
 tunately, am a mute." 
 
 He could not repress the low ejaculation of as 
 tonishment that came to his lips, and as his com 
 panion lifted her cup he saw in her face agair 
 the look that had stirred him so strangely when 
 be stood in the window of the Hotel Windsor. 
 Howland was not a man educated in the triviali 
 ties of chance flirtations. He lacked finesse, and 
 now he spoke boldly and to the point, the honest 
 candor of his gray eyes shining full on the girl. 
 
 "I saw you from the hotel window to-night," 
 he began, "and something in your face led me to 
 believe that you were in trouble. That is why I 
 have ventured to be so bold. I am the engineer in 
 charge of the new Hudson Bay Railroad, just on 
 my way to Le Pas from Chicago. I m a stranger 
 in town. I ve never been in this this place be- 
 Jore. It s a very nice tea-room, an admirable 
 blind for the opium stalls behind those walls." 
 
 In a few terse words he had covered the situa 
 tion, as he would have covered a similar situation
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 in a business deal. He had told the girl who and 
 what he was, had revealed the cause of his inter 
 est in her, and at the same time had given her to 
 understand that he was aware of the nature of 
 their present environment. Closely he watched 
 the effect of his words and in another breath was 
 sorry that he had been so blunt. The girl s eyes 
 traveled swiftly about her ; he saw the quick rise 
 and fall of her bosom, the swift fading of the 
 color in her cheeks, the affrighted glow in her 
 eyes as they came back big and questioning to 
 him. 
 
 "I didn t know," she wrote quickly, and hesi 
 tated. Her face was as white now as when How- 
 land had looked on it through the window. Her 
 hand trembled nervously and for an instant her 
 lip quivered in a way that set Rowland s heart 
 pounding tumultuously within him. "I am a 
 stranger, too," she added. "I have never been if 
 this place before. I came because " 
 
 She stopped, and the catching breath in her 
 throat was almost a sob as she looked at How- 
 25
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 land. He knew that it took an effort for her to 
 write the next words. 
 
 "I came because you came." 
 
 te Why ?" he asked. His voice was low and as- 
 mring. "Tell me why?" 
 
 He read her words as she wrote them, leaning 
 half across the table in his eagerness. 
 
 "I am a stranger," she repeated. "I want 
 some one to help me. Accidentally I learned who 
 you were and made up my mind to see you at the 
 hotel, but when I got there I was afraid to go in. 
 Then I saw you in the window. After a little you 
 came out and I saw you enter here. I didn t 
 know what kind of place it was and I followed 
 you. Won t you please go with me to where I 
 am staying and I will tell you " 
 
 She left the sentence unfinished, her eyes 
 pleading with him. Without a word he rose and 
 seized his hat. 
 
 "I will go, Miss " He laughed frankly into 
 ber face, inviting her to write her name. For a 
 moment she smiled back at him, the color bright- 
 26
 
 LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT 
 
 ening her cheeks. Then she turned and hurried 
 down the stair. 
 
 Outside Rowland gave her his arm. His eyes/ 
 passing above her, caught again the luring play 
 of the aurora in the north. He flung b^ck his 
 shoulders, drank in the fresh air, and laughed in 
 the buoyancy of the new life that he felt. 
 
 "It s a glorious night !" he exclaimed. 
 
 The girl nodded, and smiled up at him. Her 
 face was very near to his shoulder, ever mo/e 
 beautiful in the white light of the stars. 
 
 They did not look behind them. Neither heard 
 the quiet fall of moccasined feet a dozen yards 
 away. Neither saw the gleaming eyes and the 
 thin, dark face of Jean Croisset, the half-breed, 
 as they walked swiftly in the direction of the 
 Saskatchewan*
 
 CHAPTER IH 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 HOWLAND was glad that for a time there 
 was an excuse for his silence. It began 
 to dawn on him that this was an extraordinary 
 adventure for a man on whose shoulders rested 
 the responsibilities of one of the greatest engi 
 neering tasks on the continent, and who was due 
 to take a train for the seat of his operations at 
 eight o clock in the morning. Inwardly he was 
 experiencing some strange emotions; out 
 wardly he smiled as he thought of what Van 
 Horn would say if he knew the circumstances. 
 He looked down at his companion ; saw the sheen 
 of her hair as it rippled out from under her fur 
 turban, studied the soft contour of her cheek 
 and chin, without himself being observed, and 
 noticed, incidentally, that the top of the be 
 witching head beside him came just about to a 
 28
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 level with his cigar which he was smoking. He 
 wondered if he were making a fool of himself. 
 If so, he assured himself that there was at least 
 one compensation. This night in Prince Albert 
 would not be so uninteresting as it had promised 
 to be earlier in the evening. 
 
 Where the river ferry was half drawn up on 
 the shore, its stern frozen in the ice, he paused 
 and looked down at the girl in quiet surprise. 
 She nodded, smiling, and motioned across the 
 river. 
 
 "I was over there once to-night," said How- 
 land aloud. "Didn t see any houses and heard 
 nothing but wolves. Is that where we re going?" 
 
 Her white teeth gleamed at him and he was 
 conscious of a warm pressure against his arm as 
 the girl signified that they were to cross. His 
 perplexity increased. On the farther shore the 
 forest came down to the river s edge in a black 
 wall of spruce and balsam. Beyond that edge of 
 the wilderness he knew that no part of Prince 
 Albert intruded. It was possible that across 
 29
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 from them was a squatter s cabin ; and yet if this 
 were so, and the girl was going to it, why had 
 she told him that she was a stranger in the town ? 
 And why had she come to him for the assistance 
 fine promised to request of him instead of seeking 
 it of those whom she knew? 
 
 He asked himself these questions without put 
 ting them in words, and not until they were 
 climbing up the frozen bank of the stream, with 
 the shadows of the forest growing deeper about 
 them, did he speak again. 
 
 "You told me you were a stranger," he said, 
 stopping his companion where the light of the 
 stars fell on the face which she turned up to 
 him. She smiled, and nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "You seem pretty well acquainted over here," 
 he persisted. " Where are we going?" 
 
 This time she responded with an emphatic 
 negative shake of her head, at the same time 
 pointing with her free hand to the well-defined 
 trail that wound up from the ferry landing into 
 the forest. Earlier in the day Rowland had been 
 30
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 told that this was the Great North Trail that led 
 into the vast wildernesses beyond the Saskatche 
 wan. Two days before, the factor from Lae 
 Bain, the Chippewayan and the Crees had coma 
 in over it. Its hard crust bore the marks of the 
 sledges of Jean Croisset and the men from the 
 Lac la Ronge country. Since the big snow, 
 which had fallen four feet deep ten days before, 
 a forest man had now and then used this trail on 
 his way down to the edge of civilization; but 
 none from Prince Albert had traveled it in the 
 other direction. Rowland had been told this at 
 the hotel, and he shrugged his shoulders in can 
 did bewilderment as he stared down into the 
 girl s face. She seemed to understand his 
 thoughts, and again her mouth rounded itself 
 into that bewitching red 0, which gave to her 
 face an expression of tender entreaty, of pathetic 
 grief that the soft lips were powerless to voicf 
 the words which she wished to speak. Then, sud 
 denly, she darted a few steps from Rowland and 
 Stoth *he toe of xher shoe formed a single word in 
 31
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 the surface of the snow. She rested her hand 
 lightly on Rowland s shoulder as he bent over to 
 make it out in the elusive starlight. 
 
 "Camp !" he cried, straightening himself. "Do 
 you mean to say you re camping out here?" 
 
 She nodded again and again, delighted that he 
 understood her. There was something so child 
 ishly sweet in her face, in the gladness of her 
 eyes, that Howland stretched out both his hands 
 to her, laughing aloud. "You!** he exclaimed. 
 u Y*w camping out hereP* With a quick little 
 movement she came to him, still laughing with 
 her eyes and lips, and for an instant he held both 
 her hands tight in his own. Her lovely face was 
 dangerously near to him. He felt the touch of 
 her breath on his face, for an instant caught the 
 sweet scent of her hair. Never had he seen eyes 
 like those that glowed up at him softly, filled 
 with the gentle starlight; never in his life had 
 ne dreamed of a face like this, so near to him that 
 it sent the blood leaping through his veins in 
 strange excitement. He held the hands tighter, 
 32
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 and the movement drew the girl closer to him, 
 until for no more than a breath he felt her 
 against his breast. In that moment he forgot all 
 sense of time and place; forgot his old self 
 Jack Howland practical, unromantic, master- 
 builder of railroads ; forgot everything but this 
 presence of the girl, the warm pressure against 
 his breast, the lure of the great brown eyes ths.t 
 had come so unexpectedly into his life. In an 
 other moment he had recovered himself. He drew 
 a step back, freeing the girl s hands. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said softly. His 
 cheeks burned hotly at what he had done, and 
 turning squarely about he strode up the trail. 
 He had not taken a dozen paces, when far ahead 
 of him he saw the red glow of a fire. Tlien a hand 
 caught his arm, clutching at it almost fiercely, 
 and he turned to meet the girl s face, white now 
 with a strange terror. 
 
 "What is it?" he cried. "Tell me-" 
 He caught her hands again, startled by the 
 look in her eyes. Quickly she pulled herseli 
 33
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 *way c A dozen feet behind her, in the thick 
 shadows of the forest trees, something took shapt 
 and movement. In a flash Howland saw a huge 
 form leap from the gloom and caught the gleam 
 of an uplifted knife. There was no time for him 
 to leap aside, no time for him to reach for the 
 revolver which he carried in his pocket. In such 
 a crisis one s actions are involuntary, machine- 
 like, as if life, hovering by a thread, preserves 
 itself in its own manner and without thought or 
 reasoning on the part of the creature it animates,, 
 For an instant Howland neither thought nor rea 
 soned. Had he done so he would probably have 
 met his mysterious assailant, pitting his naked 
 fists against the knife. But the very mainspring 
 of his existence which is self-preservation 
 called on him to do otherwise. Before the star 
 tled cry on his lips found utterance he flung 
 himself face downward in the snow. The move 
 saved him, and as the other stumbled over his 
 body, pitching headlong into the trail, he 
 snatched forth his revolver. Before he cc* llJ fire 
 M
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 there came a roar like that of a beast from be 
 hind him and a terrific blow fell on his head* 
 Under the weight of a second assailant he was 
 unshed to the snow, his pistol slipped from his 
 grasp, and two great hands choked a despair 
 ing cry from his throat. He saw a face over 
 him, distorted with passion, a huge neck, eyes 
 that flamed like angry garnet 1 ?. He struggled 
 to free his pinioned arms, to wrench off the death- 
 grip at his throat, but his efforts were like those 
 of a child against a giant. In a last terrible at 
 tempt he drew up his knees inch by inch under 
 the weight of his enemy ; it was his only chance, 
 his only hope. Even as he felt the fingers about 
 his throat, sinking like hot iron into his flesh, 
 and the breath slipping from his body, he re 
 membered this murderous knee-punch taught to 
 him by the rough fighters of the Inland Seas, 
 ind with all the life that remained in him he sent 
 it crushing into the other s abdomen. It was a 
 moment before he knew that it had been success- 
 *iil, before the film cleared from his eyes and bt 
 35
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 saw his assailant groveling in the snow. He rose 
 to his feet, dazed and staggering from the effect 
 of the blow on his head and the murderous grip 
 at his throat. Half a pistol shot down the trail 
 he saw indistinctly the twisting of black objects 
 in the snow, and as he stared one of the objects 
 came toward him. 
 
 "Do not fire, M seur Rowland," he heard a 
 voice call. "It ees I Jean Croisset, a friend! 
 Blessed Saints, that was what you call heem ? 
 close call?" 
 
 The half-breed s thin dark face came up smil 
 ing out of the white gloom. For a moment How- 
 land did not see him, scarcely heard his words. 
 Wildly he looked about him for the girl. She 
 was gone. 
 
 "I happened here just in time with a club," 
 continued Croisset. "Come, we must go." 
 
 The smile had gone from his face and there 
 was a commanding firmness in the grip that fell 
 on the young engineer s arm. Howland was con 
 scious that things were twisting about him and 
 36
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ATTACK 
 
 that there was a strange weakness in his limbs. 
 Dumbly he raised his hands to his head, which 
 hurt him until he felt as if he must cry out in his 
 pain. 
 
 "The girl " he gasped weakly. 
 
 Croisset s arm tightened about his waist. 
 
 "She ees gone !" Hbwland heard him say ; and 
 there was something in the half-breed s low voice 
 that caused him to turn unquestioningly and 
 stagger along beside him in the direction of 
 Prince Albert. 
 
 And yet as he went, only half-conscious of 
 what he was doing, and leaning more and more 
 heavily on his companion, he knew that it was 
 more than the girl s disappearance that he 
 wanted to understand. For as the blow had 
 fallen on his head he was sure that he had heard 
 a woman s scream; and as he lay in the snow, 
 dazed and choking, spending his last effort in 
 his struggle for life, there had come to him, as 
 if from an infinite distance, a woman s voice, and 
 the words that it had uttered pounded in his tor- 
 37
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 hired brain now as Hs head dropped weakly 
 against Croisset s sh^lder. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, yf are killing him killing 
 him!" 
 
 He tried to r4>eat thenc aloud, but his voice 
 sounded only Jn an incoherent murmur. Where 
 the forest c*ie down to the edge of the river the 
 half-breed Mopped. 
 
 "I mus* carry you, M*seur Rowland," he said; 
 and as h staggered out on the ice with his inani 
 mate bvtden, he spoke softly to himself, "The 
 saints ^reserve me, but what would the sweet 
 Melee*t say if she knew that Jean Croisset had 
 come so near to losing the life of this M seur le 
 ngineer? Ce monde eat plein de fous!"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 IN only a subconscious sort of way was 
 land cognizant of anything more that hap 
 pened that night. When he came back into a full 
 sense of his existence he found himself in his bed 
 at the hotel. A lamp was burning low on the 
 table. A glance showed him that the room was 
 empty. He raised his head and shoulders from 
 the pillows on which they were resting and the 
 movement helped to bring him at onc into a 
 realization of what had happened. He was hurt. 
 There was a dull, aching pain in his head and 
 neck and when he raised an inquiring hand it 
 teame in contact with a thick bandage. He won- 
 flered if he were badly hurt and sank back again 
 Dn the pillows, lying with his eyes staring at the 
 faint glow of the lamp. Soon there came a sound 
 at the door and he twisted his head, grimacing
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 with the pain it caused him. Jean was looking in 
 at him. 
 
 "Ah, M seur ees awake!" he said, seeing the 
 wide-open eyes. He came in softly, closing the 
 door behind him. "Mon Dieu, but if it had been 
 a heavier club by the weight of a pound you 
 would have gone into the blessed hereafter," he 
 smiled, approaching with noiseless tread. He 
 held a glass of water to Rowland s lips. 
 
 "Is it bad, Croisset?" 
 
 "So bad that you will be in bed for a day or 
 so, M seur. That is all." 
 
 "Impossible!" cried the young engineer. "I 
 must take the eight o clock train in the morn 
 ing. I must be in Le Pas " 
 
 "It is five o clock now," interrupted Jean 
 softly. "Do you feel like going?" 
 
 Rowland straightened himself and fell back 
 suddenly with a sharp cry. 
 
 "The devil!" he exclaimed. After a moment 
 he added, "There will be no other train for two 
 days." As he raised a hand to his aching head, 
 40
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 his other closed tightly about Jean s lithe brown 
 fingers. "I want to thank you for what you did, 
 Croisset. I don t know what happened. I don t 
 know who they were or why they tried to kill mt 
 There was a girl I was going with her " 
 
 He dropped his hand in time to see the strange 
 fire that had leaped into the half-breed*] eyes. 
 In astonishment he half lifted himself again, his 
 white face questioning Croisset. 
 
 "Do you know ?" he whispered eagerly. "Who 
 was she? Why did she lead me into that am 
 bush? Why did they attempt to kill me?" 
 
 The questions shot from him excitedly, and he 
 knew from what he saw in the other s face that. 
 Croisset could have answered them. Yet from 
 the thin tense lips above him there came no re 
 sponse. With a quick movement the half-breed 
 drew away his hand and moved toward the door. 
 Half way he paused and turned. 
 
 "M seur, I have come to you with a warning. 
 Do not go to Le Pas. Do not go to the big rail 
 road camp on the Wekusko. Return into the 
 41
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Southo** For an instant he leaned forward, biff 
 black eyes flashing, his hands clenched tightly at 
 bis y des. "Perhaps you will understand," he 
 Cried tensely, "when I tell you this warning is 
 sent to you by the little Meleese !" 
 
 Before Rowland could recover from his sur 
 prise Croisset had passed swiftly through the 
 door. The engineer called his name, but there 
 came no response other then the rapidly retreat 
 ing sound of the Northerner s moccasined feet. 
 With a grumble of vexation he sank back on his 
 pillows. The fresh excitement had set his head 
 in a whirl again and a feverish heat mounted into 
 his face. For a long time he lay with his eyes 
 closed, trying to clear for himself the mystery 
 of the preceding night. The one thought which 
 obsessed him was that he had been duped. His 
 lovely acquaintance of the preceding evening had 
 msnared him completely with her gentle smile 
 and her winsome mouth, and he gritted his teeth 
 grimly as he reflected how easy he had been. De 
 liberately she had lured him into the ambush 
 43
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 which would have proved fatal for him had it not 
 been for Jean Croisset. And she was not a mute ! 
 He had heard her voice; when that death-grig 
 was tightest about his throat there had come to 
 him that terrified cry : "Mon Dieu, you are kill 
 ing him killing him !" 
 
 His breath came a little faster as he whispered 
 the words to himself. They appealed to him now 
 with a significance which he had not understood 
 at first. He was sure that in that cry there had 
 been real terror; almost, he fancied, as he lay 
 with his eyes shut tight, that he could still hear 
 the shrill note of despair in the voice. The more 
 he tried to reason the situation, the more inex 
 plicable grew the mystery of it all. If the girl 
 had calmly led him into the ambush, why, in the 
 last moment, when success seemed about to crown 
 her duplicity, had she cried out in that agony of 
 terror? In Howland s heated brain there came 
 suddenly a vision of her as she stood beside him 
 in the white trail ; he felt again the thrill of her 
 hands, the touch of her breast for a moment
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 against his own; saw the gentle look that had 
 come into her deep, pure eyes; the pathetic 
 tremor of the lips which seemed bravely striving 
 to speak to him. Was it possible that face and 
 eyes like those could have led him into a death 
 trap ! Despite the evidence of what had happened 
 he found himself filled with doubt. And yet, 
 after all, she had lied to him for she was not a 
 mute! 
 
 He turned over with a groan and watched the 
 door. When Croisset returned he would insist 
 on knowing more about the strange occurrence, 
 for he was sure that the half-breed could clear 
 away at least a part of the mystery. Vainly, as 
 he watched and waited, he racked his mind to find 
 some reason for the murderous attack on himself. 
 Who was "the little Meleese," whom Croisset de 
 clared had sent the warning? So far as he could 
 remember he had never known a person by that 
 name. And yet the half-breed had uttered it as 
 though it would carry a vital meaning to him. 
 "Perhaps you will understand," he had said, and 
 44
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 Rowland strove to understand, until his brain 
 grew dizzy and a nauseous sickness overcame 
 him. 
 
 The first light of the day was falling faintly 
 through the window when footsteps sounded out 
 side the door again. It was nat Croisset who ap 
 peared this time, but the proprietor himself, 
 bearing with him a tray on which there was toast 
 and a steaming pot of coffee. He nodded and 
 smiled as he saw Rowland half sitting up. 
 
 "Bad fall you had," he greeted, drawing a 
 small table close beside the bed. "This snow is 
 treacherous when you re climbing among the 
 rocks. When it caves in with you on the side of 
 a mountain you might as well make up your mind 
 you re going to get a good bump. Good thing 
 Croisset was with you !" 
 
 For a few moments Rowland was speechless- 
 
 "Yes it was a bad fall," he replied a 
 last, looking sharply at the other. "Where is 
 Croisset?" 
 
 "Gone. He left an hour ago with his dogs, 
 45
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Funny fellow that Croisset ! Came in yesterday 
 from the Lac la Ronge country a hundred miles 
 north; goes back to-day. No apparent reason 
 for his coming, none for his going, that I can 
 see." 
 
 **Do you know anything about him?" asked 
 Rowland a little eagerly. 
 
 No. He comes in about once or twice a year." 
 
 The young engineer munched his toast and 
 drank his coffee for some moments in silence. 
 Then, casually, he asked, 
 
 "Did you ever hear of a person by the name of 
 Meleese?" 
 
 "Meleese Meleese Meleese " repeated the 
 hotel man, running a hand through his hair. "It 
 seems to me that the name is familiar and yet 
 I can t remember " He caught himself in sud 
 den triumph. "Ah, I have it ! Two years ago 1 
 uad a kitchen woman named Meleese." 
 
 Rowland shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 **This was a young woman," he said. 
 
 "The Meleese we had is dead," replied the pro- 
 46
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 prietor cheerfully, rising to go. "Ffl send up 
 for your tray in half an hour or so, Mr. How- 
 land." 
 
 Several hours later Howland crawled from hii 
 bed and bathed his head in cold water. After 
 that he felt better, dressed himself, and went be 
 low. HSs head pained him considerably, but be 
 yond that and an occasional nauseous sensation 
 the injury he had received in the fight caused him 
 no very great distress. He went in to dinner and 
 by the middle of the afternoon was so much im 
 proved that he lighted his first cigar and ven 
 tured out into the bracing air for a short walk. 
 At first it occurred to him that he might make 
 inquiries at the Chinese restaurant regarding the 
 identity of the girl whom he had met there, but 
 he quickly changed his mind, and crossing the 
 river he followed the trail which they had taken 
 the preceding night. For a few moments he con 
 templated the marks of the conflict in the snow. 
 Where lie had first seen the half-breed there wert 
 blotches of blood on the crust. 
 47
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 **Good for Croisset!" Howland muttered ; 
 w good for Croisset. It looks as though he usec 
 * knife." 
 
 He could see where the wounded man had 
 dragged himself up the trail, finally staggering 
 to his feet, and with a caution which he had not 
 exercised a few hours before Howland continued 
 slowly between the thick forest walls, one hand 
 clutching the butt of the revolver in his coat 
 pocket. Where the trail twisted abruptly into 
 the north he found the charred remains of a 
 camp-fire in a small open, and just beyond it a 
 number of birch toggles, which had undoubtedly 
 been used in place of tent-stakes. With the toe 
 of his boot he kicked among the ashes and half- 
 burned bits of wood. There was no sign of 
 smoke, not a living spark to give ev . fence that 
 human presence had been there for many hours. 
 There was but one conclusion to make ; soon after 
 their unsuccessful attempt on his life his strange 
 assailants had broken camp and fled. With them, 
 in all probability, had gone the girl whose soft 
 48
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 eyes and sweet face had lured him within theii 
 reach. 
 
 But where had they gone? 
 
 Carefully he examined the abandoned camp. 
 In the hard crust were the imprints of dogs 
 claws. In several places he found the faint, broad 
 impression made by a toboggan. The marks at 
 least cleared away the mystery of their disap 
 pearance. Sometime during the night they had 
 fled by dog-sledge into the North. 
 
 He was tired when he returned to the hotel and 
 it was rather with a sense of disappointment than 
 pleasure that he learned the work-train was to 
 leave for Le Pas late that night instead of the 
 next day. After a quiet hour s rest in his room, 
 however, his old enthusiasm returned to him. He 
 found himself feverishly anxious to reach Le Pas 
 and the big camp on the Wekusfco. Croisset s 
 warning for him to turn back into the South, in 
 stead of deterring him, urged hint on. He was 
 born a fighter. It was by fighting tbat he had 
 forced his way round by round up the Jadder of
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 success. And now the fact that his life was in 
 danger, that some mysterious peril awaited him 
 in the depths of the wilderness, but added a new 
 and thrilling fascination to the tremendous tasl 
 which was ahead of him. He wondered if this 
 same peril had beset Gregson and Thome, and 
 if it was the cause of their failure, of their 
 anxiety to return to civilization. He assured him 
 self that he would know when he met them at Le 
 Pas. He would discover more when he became a 
 part of the camp on the Wekusko ; that is, if the 
 half-breed s warning held any significance at all, 
 and he believed that it did. Anyway, he would 
 prepare for developments. So he went to a gun- 
 shop, bought a long-barreled six-shooter and a 
 holster, and added to it a hunting-knife like that 
 he had seen carried by Croisset. 
 
 It was near midnight when he boarded the 
 work-train and dawn was just beginning to breal 
 over the wilderness when it stopped at Etomami, 
 from which point he was to travel by hand-car 
 over the sixty miles of new road that had been 
 50
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 constructed as far north as Le Pas. For three 
 days the car had been waiting for the new chief 
 )f the road, but neither Gregson nor Thome was 
 jeith it. 
 
 "Mr. Gregson is waiting for you at Le Pas,* 
 said one of the men who had come with it. 
 "Thorne is at Wekusko." 
 
 For the first time in his life Howland now 
 plunged into the heart of the wilderness, and as 
 mile after mile slipped behind them and he 
 t,ped deeper into the peopleless desolation of ice 
 and snow and forest his blood leaped in swift ex 
 citement, in the new joy of life which he was 
 finding up here under the far northern skies. 
 Seated on the front of the car, with the four men 
 pumping behind him, he drank in the wild beau 
 ties of the forests and swamps through which 
 they slipped, his eyes constantly on the alert for 
 signs of the big game which his companions tolc 
 him was on all sides of them. 
 
 Everywhere about them lay white winter. The 
 rocks, the trees, and the great ridges, winch in 
 51
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 this north country are called mountains, were 
 covered with four feet of snow and on it the sun 
 shone with dazzling brilliancy. But it was not 
 until a long grade brought them to the top of 
 one of these ridges and Howland looked into tht 
 north that he saw the wilderness in all of its 
 grandeur. As the car stopped he sprang to his 
 feet with a joyous cry, his face aflame with what 
 he saw ahead of him. Stretching away under his 
 eyes, mile after mile, was the vast white desola 
 tion that reached to Hudson Bay. In speechless 
 wonder he gazed down on the unblazed forests, 
 saw plains and hills unfold themselves as his 
 vision gained distance, followed a frozen river 
 until it was lost in the bewildering picture, and 
 let his eyes rest here and there on the glistening, 
 snow-smothered bosoms of lakes, rimmed in by 
 walls of black forest. This was not the wilder 
 ness as he had expected it to be, nor as he had 
 often read of it in books. It was not the wilder 
 ness that Gregson and Thorne had described in 
 their letters. It was beautiful! It was magnifi- 
 52
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 cent! His heart throbbed with pleasure as he 
 gazed down on it, the flush grew deeper in his 
 face, and he seemed hardly to breathe in his 
 cense interest. 
 
 One of the four on the car was an old Indian 
 and it was he, strangely enough^ who broke the 
 silence. He had seen the look in Rowland s face, 
 and he spoke softly, close to his ear, "Twent 
 t ousand moose down there twent t ousand 
 caribou-oo! No man no house more twent 
 t ousand miles !" 
 
 Howland, even quivering in his new emotion, 
 looked into the old warrior s eyes, filled with the 
 curious, thrilling gleam of the spirit which was 
 stirring within himself. Then again he stared 
 straight out into the unending distance as though 
 his vision would penetrate far beyond the last of 
 that visible desolation on and on, even to the 
 fifrim and uttermost fastnesses of Hudson Bay; 
 and as he looked he knew that in these moments 
 there had been born in him a new spirit, a new 
 beinr* that no longer was he the old Jack How- 
 53
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 land whose world had been confined by office walls 
 and into whose conception of life there had sel 
 dom entered things other than those which led 
 directly toward the achievement of his ambi 
 tions. 
 
 The short northern day was nearing an end 
 when once more they saw the broad Saskatche 
 wan twisting through a plain below them, and on 
 its southern shore the few log buildings of Le 
 Pas hemmed in on three sides by the black forests 
 of balsam and spruce. Lights were burning in 
 the cabins and in the Hudson Bay Post s store 
 when the car was brought to a halt half a hun 
 dred paces from a squat, log-built structure, 
 which was more brilliantly illuminated thar any 
 of the others. 
 
 "That s the hotel," said one of the men. 
 "Gregson s theie." 
 
 A tall, fur-clad figure hurried forth to meet 
 
 Howland as he walked briskly across the open. 
 
 It was G*egson. As the two men gripped hands 
 
 tb jDuog engineer stared at the other in aston- 
 
 54
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 ishment. This was not the Gregson he had 
 known in the Chicago office, round-faced, full of 
 Ufe, as active as a cricket. 
 
 "Never so glad to see any one in my life, How*- 
 land!" he cried, shaking the other s hand again 
 and again. "Another month and I d be dead 
 Isn t this a hell of a country?" 
 
 "I m falling more in love with it at every 
 breath, Gregson. What s the matter? Have you 
 been sick?" 
 
 Gregson laughed as they turned toward the 
 lighted building. It was a short, nervous laugh, 
 and with it he gave a curious sidewise glance at 
 his companion s face. 
 
 "Sick? yes, sick of the job! If the old man 
 hadn t sent us relief Thorne and I would have 
 thrown up the whole thing in another four weeks. 
 I ll warrant you ll get your everlasting fill of 
 log shanties and half-breeds and moose meat and 
 this infernal snow and ice before spring comes. 
 But I don t want to discourage you." 
 
 **Can t discourage me!" laughed Howland 
 55
 
 THL DANGER TRAIL 
 
 ebwrfully. "You Know i i.ever cared much for 
 theaters and girls," he added slyly, giving Greg- 
 son a good-natured nudge. "How about em up 
 here?" 
 
 "Nothing not a cursed thing." Suddenly hii 
 yes lighted up. "By George, Rowland, but I 
 did see the prettiest girl I ever laid my eyes on 
 to-day! I d give a box of pure Havanas and 
 ve haven t had one for a month! if I could 
 know who she is P* 
 
 They had entered through the low door of the 
 log boarding-house and Gregson was throwing 
 off his heavy coat. 
 
 "A tall girl, with a fur hat and muff?" queried 
 Rowland eagerly. 
 
 "Nothing of the sort. She was a typical 
 Northerner if there ever was one straight as a 
 birch, dressed in fur cap and coat, short caribou 
 jkin skirt and moccasins, and with a braid hang 
 ing down her back as long as my arm. Lord, but 
 she was pretty !"
 
 THE WARNING 
 
 *Isn t there a girl somewhere up around out 
 gamp named Meleese?" asked Rowland casually, 
 
 "Never heard of her," said Gregson. 
 
 "Or a man named Croisset?" 
 
 "Never heard of him." 
 
 "The deuce, but you re interesting,* laughed 
 he young engineer, sniffing at the odors of cook- 
 ng supper. "I m as hungry as a bear ? 
 
 From outside there came the sharp cracking of 
 a sledge-driver s whip and Gregson went to one 
 sf the small windows looking out upon the clear 
 ing. In another instant he sprang toward the 
 door, crying out to Rowland, 
 
 "By the god of love, there she is, old man} 
 Quick, if you want to get a glimpse of her P* 
 
 He flung the door open and Rowland hurried 
 to his side. There came another crack of the 
 whip, a loud shout, and a sledge drawn by six 
 dogs sped past them into the gathering gloom of 
 he early night. 
 
 From Rowland s lips, too, there feH a sudden 
 ry; for one of the two faces that were turned 
 
 m
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 toward him for an instant was that of Croisset, 
 and the other white and staring as he had seen 
 it that first night in Prince Albert was the face 
 Of the beautiful girl who had lured him into tht 
 |nbush on the Great North Trail I
 
 CHAPTER V 
 HOWIAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 FOR a moment after the swift passing of lh 
 sledge it was on Rowland s lips to shout 
 Croisset s name ; as he thrust Gregson aside and 
 leaped out into the night he was impelled with a 
 desire to give chase, to overtake in some way the 
 two people who, within the space of forty-eight 
 hours, had become so mysteriously associated 
 with his own life, and who were now escaping 
 him again. 
 
 It was Gregson who recalled him to his senses 
 "I thought you didn t care for theaters and 
 girls, Howland," he exclaimed banteringly c 
 repeating Rowland s words of a few minute* 
 before. "A pretty face aff ects you a little diffett 
 ently up here, eh? Well, after you ve been is 
 this fag-end of the universe for a month o gfc 
 you ll learn ** 
 
 59
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Rowland interrupted him sharply. 
 
 "Did you ever see either of them before, 
 ,on?" 
 
 "Never until to-day. But there s hope, old 
 man. Surely we can find some one in the place 
 who knows them. Wouldn t it be jolly good fun 
 if Jack Rowland, Esquire, who has never been 
 interested in theaters and girls, should come up 
 into these God-forsaken regions and develop a 
 case of love at first sight? By the Great North 
 Trail, I tell you it may not be as uninteresting 
 for you as it has been for Thome and me ! If I 
 had only seen her sooner " 
 
 "Shut up !" growled Rowland, betraying irri 
 tability for the first time. "Let s go in to sup* 
 per." 
 
 "Good. And I move that we investigate these 
 people while we are smoking our after-supper 
 cigars. It will pass our time away, at least."* 
 
 "Your taste is good, Gregson," said Rowland, 
 recovering his good-humor as they seated them 
 selves at one of the rough board tables in the din 
 60
 
 HOWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOB 
 
 ing-room. Inwardly he was convinced it would 
 be best to keep to liimself the incidents of the 
 past two days and nights. "It was a beautifu) 
 face." 
 
 "And the eyes!" added Gregson, his OWR 
 gleaming with enthusiasm. "She looked at me 
 squarely this afternoon when she and that dark 
 fellow passed, and I swear they re the most beau 
 tif ul eyes I ever saw. And her hair " 
 
 "Do you think that she knew you?" askee 
 Howland quietly. 
 
 Gregson hunched his shoulders. 
 
 "How the deuce could she know me?" 
 
 "Then why did she look at you so squarely? 
 Frying to flirt, do you suppose?" 
 
 Surprise shot into Gregson s face, 
 
 "By thunder, no, she wasn t flirting I" he er 
 claimed. "I d stake my life on that. A man never 
 got a clearer, more sinless look than she gave me,, 
 and yet Why, deuce take it, she stared at mei 
 I didn t see her again after that, but the dark 
 fellow was in here half of the afternoon* and no* 
 61
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 that I come to think of it he did show some in 
 terest in me. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Just curiosity," replied Rowland "I don t 
 like flirts." 
 
 "Neither do I," said Gregson musingly. Their 
 supper came on and they conversed but little un 
 til its end. Howland had watched his companion 
 closely and was satisfied that he knew nothing of 
 Croisset or the girl. The fact puzzled him more 
 than ever. How Gregson and Thome, two of the 
 best engineers in the country, could voluntarily 
 surrender a task like the building of the Hudson 
 Bay Railroad simply because they were "tired of 
 the country" was more than he could understand. 
 
 It was not until they were about to leave the 
 table that Howland s eyes accidentally fell on 
 Gregson s left hand. He gave an exclamation of 
 astonishment when he saw that the little finger 
 was missing. Gregson jerked the hand to his 
 sid?. 
 
 "A little accident," he explained. "You ll meet 
 f em up here, Howland." 
 62
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 Before he could move, the young engineer had 
 caught his arm and was looking closely at the 
 band. 
 
 "A curious wound," he remarked, withou 
 looking up. "Funny I didn t notice it before 
 Your finger was cut off lengthwise, and here s the 
 scar running half way to your wrist. How did 
 you do it?" 
 
 He dropped the hand in time to see a nervous 
 flush in the other s face. 
 
 "Why er fact is, Rowland, it was shot off 
 several months ago in an accident, of course." 
 He hurried through the door, continuing to 
 speak over his shoulder as he went, "Now 
 for those after-supper cigars and our invest! 
 gation." 
 
 As they passed from the dining-room into thai 
 part of the inn which was half bar and haH 
 lounging-room, already filled with smoke and f 
 dozen or so picturesque citizens of Le Pas, tli 
 rough- jowled proprietor of the place motioned 
 to Howland and held out a letter. 
 63
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 This came while you was at supper, Mr, 
 Rowland," he explained. 
 
 The engineer gave an inward start when hf 
 saw the writing on the envelope, and as he tort 
 it open he turned so that Gregson could see nei 
 ther his face nor the slip of paper which he drew 
 forth. There was no name at the bottom of what 
 he read. It was not necessary, for a glance had 
 told him that the writing was that of the girl 
 whose face he had seen again that night; and 
 her words to him this time, despite his caution, 
 drew a low whistle from his lips. 
 
 "Forgive me for what I have done,** the note 
 ran. "Believe me now. Your life is in danger 
 and you must go back to Etomami to-morrow. If 
 you go to the Wekusko camp you will not live to 
 come back." 
 
 "The devil P* he exclaimed. 
 "What s that?" asked Gregson^ edging around 
 dm curiously. 
 
 Rowland crushed the note in his hand and 
 thrust it into one of his pockets. 
 64
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 "A little private affair," he laughed. 
 Gregson, let s see what we can discover." 
 
 In the gloom outside one of his hands slipped 
 under his coat and rested on the butt of his re 
 volver. Until ten o clock they mixed casually 
 among the populace of Le Pas. Half a hundred 
 people had seen Croisset and his beautiful com 
 panion, but no one knew anything about them. 
 They had come that forenoon ->n a sledge, had 
 eaten their dinner and supper at the cabin of a 
 Scotch tie-cutter named MacDonald, and had left 
 on a sledge. 
 
 "She was the sweetest thing I ever saw," ex 
 claimed Mrs. MacDonald rapturously. "Only 
 sfte couldn t talk. Two or three times she wrote 
 things to me on a slip of paper." 
 
 "Couldn t talk!" repeated Gregson, as the 
 ;wo men walked leisurely back to the boarding- 
 louse. "What the deuce do you suppose that 
 Cleans, Jack?" 
 
 "I m not supposing," replied Rowland indif 
 ferently. "We ve had enough of this pretty 
 65
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 face, Gregson. I m going to bed. What time do 
 Wfr start in the morning?" 
 
 "As soon as we ve had breakfast if you re 
 anxious." 
 
 "I am. Good night." 
 
 Rowland went to his room, but it was not to 
 sleep. For hours he sat wide-awake, smoking 
 cigar after cigar, and thinking. One by one he 
 went over the bewildering incidents of the past 
 two days. At first they had stirred his blood with 
 a certain exhilaration a spice of excitement 
 which was not at all unpleasant; but with this 
 excitement there was now a peculiar sense of op 
 pression. The attempt that had already been 
 made on his life together with the persistent 
 warnings for him to return into the South began 
 to have their effect. But Rowland was not a man 
 to surrender to his fears, if they could be called 
 fears. He was satisfied that a mysterious peril o 
 some kind awaited him at the camp on the We 
 kusko, but he gave up trying to fathom the rea 
 son for this peril, accepting in his businesslike 
 66
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 way the fact that it did exist, and that in a short 
 time it would probably explain itself. The one 
 puzzling factor which he could not drive out of 
 ais thoughts was the girl. Her sweet face 
 foaunted him. At every turn he saw it now over 
 the table in the opium den, now in the white star 
 light of the trail, again as it had looked at him 
 for an instant from the sledge. Vainly he strove 
 to discover for himself the lurking of sin in the 
 pure eyes that had seemed to plead for his friend 
 ship, in the soft lips that had lied to him be 
 cause of their silence. "Please forgive me for 
 what I have done " He unfolded the crumpled 
 note and read the words again and again. "Be 
 lieve me now " She knew that he knew that she 
 had lied to him, that she had lured him into the 
 danger from which she now wished to save him. 
 .His cheeks burned. If a thousand perils threat 
 ened him on the Wekusko he would still go. Ht 
 would meet the girl again. Despite his strongest 
 efforts he found it impossible to destroy the vi 
 sion of her beautiful face. The eyes, soft with 
 67
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 appeal ; the red mouth, quivering, and with lips 
 parted as if about to speak to him ; the head as 
 he had looked down on it with its glory of shin 
 ing hair all had burned themselves on his soul 
 in a picture too deep to be eradicated. If the wil 
 derness was interesting to him before it was 
 doubly so now because that face was a part of 
 it, because the secret of its life, of the misery that 
 it had half confessed to him, was hidden some 
 where out in the black mystery of the spruce and 
 balsam forests. 
 
 He went to bed, but it was a long time before 
 he fell asleep. It seemed to him that he had 
 scarcely closed his eyes when a pounding on the 
 door aroused him and he awoke to find the early 
 light of dawn creeping through the narrow win 
 dow of his room. A few minutes later he joined 
 Gregson, who was ready for breakfast. 
 
 "The sledge and dogs are waiting," he 
 
 greeted. As they seated themselves at the table 
 
 he added, "I ve changed my mind since last 
 
 night, Howland. I m not going back with you. 
 
 68
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 It s absolutely unnecessary, for Thorne can ** 
 you on to everything at the camp, and I d rather 
 lose six months salary than take that sledge ride 
 again. You won t mind, will you ?" 
 
 Howland hunched his shoulders. 
 
 "To be honest, Gregson, I don t believe you d 
 be particularly cheerful company. What sort of 
 fellow is the driver ?" 
 
 "We call him Jackpine a Cree Indian and 
 he s the one faithful slave of Thorne and myself 
 at Wekusko. Hunts for us, cooks for us, and 
 watches after things generally. You ll like him 
 an right." 
 
 Howland did. When they went out to the 
 sledge after their breakfast he gave Jackpine a 
 hearty grip of the hand and the Cree s dark face 
 lighted up with something like pleasure when he 
 saw the enthusiasm in the young engineer s eyes. 
 When the moment for parting came Gregson 
 pulled his companion a little to one side. Hit 
 eyes shifted nervously and Howland saw that he 
 was making a strong effort to assume an indif- 
 69
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 ference which was not at all Gregson .j natural 
 self. 
 
 "Just a word, Rowland," he said. "You know 
 this is a pretty rough country up here some 
 tough people in it, who wouldn t mind cutting a 
 man s throat or sending a bullet through him for 
 a good team of dogs and a rifle. I m just telling 
 you this so you ll be on your guard. Have Jack- 
 pine watch your camp nights." 
 
 He spoke in a low voice and cut himself short 
 when the Indian approached. Howland seated 
 himself in the middle of the six-foot toboggan, 
 waved his hand to Gregson, then with a wild 
 halloo and a snapping of his long caribou-gut 
 whip Jackpine started his dogs on a trot down 
 the street, running close beside the sledge. How- 
 land had lighted a cigar, and leaning back in a 
 soft mass of furs began to enjoy his new experi- 
 ence hugely. Day was just fairly breaking ovd 
 the forests when they turned into the white Crai 1 
 already beaten hard by the passing of many dogs 
 and sledges, that led from Le Pas for a hundred 
 70
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 miles to the camp on the Wekusko. As they 
 struck the trail the dogs strained harder at their 
 traces, with Jackpine s whip curling and snap 
 ping over their backs until they were leaping 
 swiftly and with unbroken rhythm of motion over 
 the snow. Then the Cree gathered in his whip 
 and ran close to the leader s flank, his moccasined 
 feet taking the short, quick, light steps of the 
 trained forest runner, his chest thrown a little 
 out, his eyes on the twisting trail ahead. It was 
 a glorious ride, and in the exhilaration of it How- 
 land forgot to smoke the cigar that he held 
 between his fingers. His blood thrilled to the 
 tireless effort of the grayish-yellow pack of mag 
 nificent brutes ahead of him; he watched the 
 muscular play of their backs and legs, the eager 
 out-reaching of their wolfish heads, their half- 
 gaping jaws, and from them he looked at Jack- 
 pine. There was no effort in his running. His 
 black hair swept back from the gray of his cap ; 
 like the dogs there was music in his movement, the 
 beauty of strength, of endurance, of manhood 
 71
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 born ;o the forests, and when the dogs finally 
 stop ,ed at the foot of a hug ridge, panting 
 and half exhausted, Rowland quickly leaped 
 froi the sledge and for the first time spoke to 
 the Indian. 
 
 "That was glorious, Jackpine!" he cried. 
 "But, good Lord, man, you ll kill the dogs !" 
 
 Jaekpine grinned. 
 
 "They go sixt mile in day lak dat," he 
 grinned. 
 
 "Sixty miles!" 
 
 In his admiration for the wolfish looking 
 beasts that were carrying him through the wil 
 derness Rowland put out a hand to stroke one 
 of them on the head. With a warning cry the 
 Indian jerked him back just as the dog snapped 
 fiercely at the extended hand. 
 
 "No touch huskie !" he exclaimed. "Heem half 
 wolf half dog work hard but no lak to be- 
 touch!" 
 
 "Wow !" exclaimed Rowland. "And they re the 
 sweetest looking pups I ever laid eyes on. Pro 
 72
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 certainly running up against some strange 
 things in this country !" 
 
 He was dead tired when night came. And yet 
 never in all his life had he enjoyed a day so 
 much as this one. Twenty times he had joined 
 Jackpine in running beside the sledge. In their 
 intervals of rest he had even learned to snap the 
 thirty-foot caribou-gut lash of the dog-whip. He 
 had asked a hundred questions, had insisted on 
 Jackpine s smoking a cigar at every stop, and 
 had been so happy and so altogether companion 
 able that half of the Cree s hereditary reticence 
 had been swept away before his unbounded en 
 thusiasm. He helped to build their balsam shelter 
 for the night, ate a huge supper of moose meat, 
 hot-stone biscuits, beans and coffee, and then, 
 just as he had stretched himself out in his furs 
 for the night, he remembered Gregson s warning, 
 He sat up and called to Jackpine, who was put 
 ting a. fresh log on the big fire in front of tht 
 shelter. 
 
 "Gregson told me to be sure and have the 
 73
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 camp guarded at night, Jackpine. What do y 
 Jiink about it?" 
 
 The Indian turned with a queer chuckle, his 
 leathery face wrinkled in a grin. 
 
 "Gregson heem ver 5 much f raid," he replied. 
 "No bad man here all down there and in camp. 
 We kep watch evr* night. Heem f raid I guess 
 so, mebby." 
 
 "Afraid of what?" 
 
 For a moment Jackpine was silent, half bend 
 ing over the fire. Then he held out his left hand, 
 with the little finger doubled out of sight, and 
 pointed to it with his other hand. 
 
 Mebby heem finger ax dent mebby not," he 
 said. 
 
 A dozen eager questions brought no further 
 suggestions from Jackpine. In fact, no sooner 
 had tho words fallen from his driver s lips 
 than Rowland saw that the Indian was sorry he 
 had spoken them. What he had said strength 
 ened the conviction which was slowly growing 
 within him. He had wondered at Gregson s 
 74
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 strange demeanor, his evident anxiety to get 
 out of the country, and lastly at his desire not to 
 return to the camp on the Wekusko with him. 
 There was but one solution that came to him. In 
 some way which he could not fathom Gregson 
 was associated with the mystery which enveloped 
 him, and adding the senior engineer s nervous 
 ness to the significance of Jackpine s words he 
 was confident that the missing finger had become 
 a factor in the enigma. How should he find 
 Thorne? Surely he would give him an explana 
 tion if there was an explanation to give. Or 
 was it possible that they would leave him without 
 warning to face a situation which was driving 
 them back to civilization ? 
 
 He went to sleep, giving no further thought 
 to the guarding of the camp. A piping hot 
 breakfast was ready when Jackpine awakened 
 him, and once more the exhilarating excitement 
 of their swift race through the forests relieved 
 him of the uncomfortable mental tension under 
 which he began to find himself. During the whole 
 75
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 of the day Jackpine urged the dogs almost to 
 the limit of their endurance, and early in the 
 afternoon assured his companion that they would 
 reach the Wekusko by nightfall. It was already 
 dark when they came out of the forest into a 
 broad stretch of cutting beyond which Rowland 
 caught the glimmer of scattered lights. At the 
 farther edge of the clearing the Ci~e brought his 
 dogs to a halt close to a large log-built cabin 
 half sheltered among the trees. It was situated 
 several hundred yards from the nearest of the 
 lights ahead, and the unbroken snow about it 
 showed that it had not been used as a habitation 
 for some time. Jackpine drew a key from his 
 pocket and without a word unlocked and swung 
 open the heavy door. 
 
 Damp, cold air swept into the faces of the two 
 as they stood for a moment peering into the 
 gloom. Rowland could hear the Cree chuckling 
 in his inimitable way as he struck a match, and 
 as a big hanging oil lamp flared slowly into light 
 he turned a grinning face to the engineer. 
 76
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 "Gregson um Thorne heem mak thees cabin 
 when first kam to camp," he said softly. "No be 
 near much noise fine place in woods where be 
 quiet nights. Live here time then Gregson um 
 Thorne go live in camp. Say too far way from 
 man. But that not so. Thorne f raid Gregson 
 fraid 
 
 He hunched his shoulders again as he opened 
 the door of the big box stove which stood in the 
 room. 
 
 Rowland asked no questions, but stared about 
 him. Everywhere he saw evidences of the taste 
 and one-time tenancies of the two senior engineers. 
 Heavy bear rugs lay on the board floor ; the log 
 walls, hewn almost to polished smoothness, were 
 hung with half a dozen pictures ; in one corner 
 was a bookcase still filled with books, in another 
 a lounge covered with furs, and in this side of 
 the room was a door which Howland supposed 
 must open into the sleeping apartment. A fire 
 was roaring in the big stove before he finished 
 his inspection and as he squared his shivering 
 77
 
 back to the heat he pulled out his pipe and smiled 
 cheerfully at Jackpine. 
 
 "Afraid, eh? And am I to stay here?" 
 
 "Gregson um Thorne say yes." 
 
 "Well, Jackpine, you just hustle over to the 
 camp and tell Thorne I m here, will you ?" 
 
 For a moment the Indian hesitated, then went 
 out and closed the door after him. 
 
 "Afraid!" exclaimed Howland when he had 
 gone. "Now what the devil are they afraid of? 
 It s deuced queer, Gregson and ditto, Thorne. 
 If you re not the cowards I m half believing you 
 to be you won t leave me in the dark to face 
 something from which you are running away." 
 
 He lighted a small lamp and opened the door 
 leading into the other room. It was, as he had 
 surmised, the sleeping chamber. The bed, a 
 single chair and a mirror and stand were its sole 
 furnishing. 
 
 Returning to the larger room, he threw off 
 his coat and hat and seated himself comfortably 
 before the fire. Ten minutes later the door 
 78
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 opened again and Jackpine entered. He was 
 supporting another figure by the arm, and as 
 Rowland stared into the bloodless face of the 
 man who came with him, he could not repress 
 the exclamation of astonishment which rose to 
 his lips. Three months before he had last seen 
 Thorne in Chicago ; a man in the prime of life, 
 powerfully built, as straight as a tree, the most 
 efficient and highest paid man in the company s 
 employ. How often had he enyied Thorne! 
 For years he had been his ideal of a great en 
 gineer. And now 
 
 He stood speechless. Slowly, as if the move 
 ment gave him pain, Thorne slipped off the 
 great fur coat from about his shoulders. One 
 of his arms was suspended in a sling. His huge 
 shoulders were bent, his eyes wild and haggard. 
 The smile that came to his lips as he held out a 
 hand to Rowland gave to his death-white face 
 an appearance even more ghastly. 
 
 "Hello, Jack !" he greeted. "What s the mat 
 ter, man? Do I look like a ghost?" 
 79
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 * , Vhat is the matter, Thome ? I found Greg* 
 son half dying at Le Pas, and now you " 
 
 "It s a wonder you re not reading my name 
 on a little board slab instead of seeing yours 
 truly in flesh and blood, Jack," laughed Thorne 
 nervously. "A ton of rock, man a ton of 
 rock, and I was under it !" 
 
 Over Thome s shoulder the young engineer 
 caught a glimpse of the Cree s face. A dark 
 flash had shot into his eyes. His teeth gleamed 
 for an instant between his tense lips in some 
 thing that might have been a sneer. 
 
 Thorne sat down, rubbing his hands before 
 the fire. 
 
 "We ve been unfortunate, Jack," he said 
 slowly. "Gregson and I have had the worst 
 kind of luck since the day we struck this camp, 
 md we re no longer fit for the job. It will take 
 us six months to get on our feet again. You ll 
 find everything here in good condition. The 
 line is blazed straight to the bay; we ve got 
 three hundred good men, plenty of supplies, and 
 80
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 so far as I know you ll not find a disaffected 
 hand on the Wekusko. Probably Gregson and 
 I will take hold of the Le Pas end of the line in 
 the spring. It s certainly up to you to build 
 the roadway to the bay." 
 
 / / 
 
 "I m sorry things have gone badly," replied 
 Howland. He leaned forward until his face 
 was close to his companion s. "Thome, is there 
 a man up here named Croisset or a girl called 
 Meleese?" 
 
 He watched the senior engineer closely. Noth 
 ing to confirm his suspicions came into Thome s 
 face. Thorne looked up, a little surprised at the 
 tone of the other s voice. 
 
 "Not that I know of, Jack. There may be a 
 man named Croisset among our three hundred 
 workers you can tell by looking at che pay 
 roll. There are fifteen or twer/ty married men 
 among us and they ha,ve families. Gregson 
 knows more about the girls than I. Anything 
 particular?" 
 
 "Just a word I ve got for them i they re
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 here," replied Howland carelessly. "Are these 
 my quarters ?" 
 
 "If you like them. When I got hurt w; 
 moved up among the men. Brought us intr 
 closer touch with the working end, you know. 
 
 "You and Gregson must have been laid up 
 at about the same time," said the young engineer. 
 "That was a painful wound of Gregson s. I 
 wonder who the deuce it was who shot him? 
 Funny that a man like Gregson should have an 
 enemy !" 
 
 Thorne sat up with a jerk. There came the 
 rattle of a pan from the stove, and Howland 
 turned his head in time to see Jackpine staring 
 at him as though he had exploded a mine under 
 his feet. 
 
 "Who shot him ?" gasped the senior engineer. 
 "Why er didn t Gregson tell you that it was 
 an accident?" 
 
 "Why should he lie, Thorne?" 
 
 A faint flush swept into the other s pallic 
 face. For a moment there was a penetrating 
 82
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 glare in his eyes as he looked at Howlaud. Jack- 
 pine still stood silent and motionless beside the 
 stove. 
 
 "He told me that it was an accident," said 
 Thorne at last. 
 
 "Funny," was all that Howland said, turning 
 to the Indian as though the matter was of no im 
 portance. "Ah, Jackpine, I m glad to see the 
 coffee-pot on. I ve got a box of the bl&ckest 
 and mildest Porto Ricans you ever laid eyes on 
 in my kit, Thorne, and we ll open em up for a 
 good smoke after supper. Hello, why have you 
 got boards nailed over that window ?" 
 
 For the first time Howland noticed that the 
 thin muslin curtain, which he thought had 
 screened a window, concealed, in place of a win 
 dow, a carefully fitted barricade of plank. A sud 
 den thrill shot through him as he rose to examine 
 t. With his back toward Thorne he said, half 
 laughing, "Perhaps Gregson was afraid that 
 the fellow who clipped off his finger would get 
 him through the window, eh?" 
 83
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 He pretended not to perceive the effect of his 
 words on the senior engineer. The two sat down 
 to supper and for an hour after they had finishec 
 they smoked and talked on the business of thf 
 camp. It was ten o clock when Thorne and Jack~ 
 pine left the cabin. 
 
 No sooner had they gone than Howland closed 
 and barred the door, lighted another cigar, and 
 began pacing rapidly up and down the room. 
 Already there were developments. Gregson had 
 lied to him about his finger. Thorne had lied to 
 him about his own injuries, whatever they were. 
 He was certain of these two things - and of more. 
 The two senior engineers were not leaving the 
 Wekusko because of mere dissatisfaction with 
 the work and country. They were fleeing. And 
 for some reason they were keeping from him the 
 real motive for their flight. Was it possible that 
 they were deliberately sacrificing him in order to 
 save themselves? He could not bring himself to 
 believe this, notwithstanding the evidence against 
 them. Both were men of irreproachable honor. 
 84
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 Thome, especially, was a man of indomitable 
 nerve a man who would be the last in the world 
 to prove treacherous to a business associate or a 
 friend. He was sure that neither of them knew 
 of Croisset or of the beautiful girl whom he had 
 met at Prince Albert, which led him to believe 
 that there were other characters in the strange 
 plot in which he had become involved besides 
 those whom he had encountered on the Great 
 North Trail. Again he examined the barricaded 
 window and he was more than ever convinced that 
 his chance hit at Thorne had struck true. 
 
 He was tired from his long day s travel but 
 little inclination to sleep came to him, and stretch 
 ing himself out on the lounge with his head and 
 shoulders bolstered up with furs, he continued to 
 smoke and think. He was surprised when a little 
 >clock tinkled the hour of eleven. He had not seen 
 the clock before. Now he listened to the faint 
 monotonous ticking it made close to his head un 
 til he felt an impelling drowsiness creeping over 
 him and he closed his eyes. He was almost asleep 
 85
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 when it struck again softly, and yet with suffi 
 cient loudness to arouse him. It had struck 
 twelve. 
 
 With an effort Howland overcame his drows* 
 ness and dragged himself to a sitting postun. 
 knowing that he should undress and go to bed. 
 The lamp was still burning brightly and he arose 
 to turn down the wick. Suddenly he stopped. To 
 his dulled senses there came distinctly the sound 
 of a knock at the door. For a few moments he 
 waited, silent and motionless. It came again, 
 louder than before, and yet in it there was some 
 thing of caution. It was not the heavy tattoo of 
 one who had come to awaken him on matter of 
 business. 
 
 Who could be his midnight visitor? Softly 
 Howland went back to his heavy coat and slipped 
 his small revolver into his hip pocket. The 
 knock came again. Then he walked to the door, 
 shot back the bolt, and, with his right hanc 
 gripping the butt of his pistol, flung it wide 
 open. 
 
 86
 
 ROWLAND S MIDNIGHT VISITOR 
 
 For a moment he stood transfixed, staring 
 speechlessly at a white, startled face lighted up 
 by the glow of the oil lamp. Bewildered to the 
 point of dumbness, he backed slowly, holding 
 the door open, and there entered the one person in 
 all the world whom he wished most to see she 
 who had become so strangely a part of his life 
 since that first night at Prince Albert, and whose 
 sweet face was holding a deeper meaning for 
 him with every hour that he lived. He closed 
 the door and turned, still without speaking; 
 and, impelled by a sudden spirit that sent the 
 blood thrilling through his veins, he held out 
 both hands to the girl for whom he now knew 
 that he was willing to face all of the perils 
 that might await him between civilisation and the 
 bay.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THK LOVE OP A MAN 
 
 FOR a moment the girl hesitated, her un 
 gloved hands clenched on her breast, he/ 
 bloodless face tense with a strange grief, as 
 she saw the outstretched arms of the man whom 
 her treachery had almost lured to his death. 
 Then, slowly, she approached, and once more 
 Howland held her hands clasped to him and 
 gazed questioningly down into the wild eyes 
 that stared into his own. 
 
 "Why did you run away from me?" were the 
 first words that he spoke. They came from him 
 gently, as if he had known her for a long time, 
 in them there was no tone of bitterness ; in the 
 warmth of his gray eyes there was none of the 
 denunciation which she might have expected. 
 He repeated the question, bending his head until
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 he feft the soft touch of her hair on his lips. 
 "Why did you run away from me?" 
 
 She drew away from him, her eyes searching 
 his face. 
 
 "I lied to you," she breathed, her words com 
 ing to him in a whisper. "I lied " 
 
 The words caught in her throat. He saw her 
 struggling to control herself, to stop the quiver 
 ing of her lip, the tremble in her voice. In an 
 other moment she had broken down, and with a 
 low, sobbing cry sank in a chair beside the 
 table and buried her head in her arms. As 
 Howland saw the convulsive trembling of her 
 shoulders, his soul was flooded with a strange 
 joy- not at this sight of her grief, but at the 
 knowledge that she was sorry for what she had 
 done. Softly he approached. The girl s fur 
 cap had fallen off. Her long, shining braid 
 was half undone and its silken strands fell over 
 her shoulder and glistened in thi lamp-glow 
 on the table. His hand hesitated, and then fell 
 gently on the bowed head. 
 KQ
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "Sometimes the friend who lies is the otrfy 
 friend who s true," he said. "I believe that it 
 was necessary for you to lie." 
 
 Just once his hand stroked her soft hair, then, 
 catching himself, he went to the opposite side 
 of the narrow table and sat down. When the 
 girl raised her head there was a bright flush in 
 her cheeks. He could see the damp stain of 
 tears on her face, but there was no sign of them 
 now in the eyes that seemed seeking in his own 
 the truth of his words, spoken a few momenta 
 before. 
 
 "You believe that?" she questioned eagerly* 
 "You believe that it was necessary for me to~- 
 lie?" She leaned a little toward him, her fingers 
 twining themselves about one another nervously^ 
 as she waited for him to answer. 
 
 "Yes," said Howland. He spoke the one word 
 with a finality that sent a gladness into the soft 
 brown eyes across from him. "I believe that you 
 had to lie to me." 
 
 His low voice was vibrant with unbounded 
 90
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 faiih. Other words were on his lips, but h* 
 forced them back. A part of what he might 
 have said a part of the strange, joyous tumuli 
 in his heart betrayed itself in his face, anc 
 before that betrayal the girl drew back slowly, 
 the color fading from her cheeks. 
 
 "And I believe you will not lie t( me again, * 
 he said. 
 
 She rose to her feet and flung b* ck her hair, 
 looking down on him in the ma?mer of one 
 who had never before met this kind of man, and 
 knew not what to make of him. 
 
 "No, I will not lie to you again, she replied, 
 more firmly. "Do you believe me n< w?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then go back into the South. I have come 
 to tell you that again to-night to make you 
 believe me. You should have turned back at Li 
 Pas. If you don t go to-morrow " 
 
 Her voice seemed to choke her, and she stoo< 
 without finishing, leaving him to understand 
 she had meant to say. In ao instant How 
 91
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 land was at her side. Once more his old, reso 
 lute fighting blood was up. Firmly he took her 
 hands again, his eyes compelling her to look 
 up at him. 
 
 "If I don t go to-morrow they will kill me," 
 he completed, repeating the words of her note 
 to him. "Now, if you are going to be honest 
 with me, tell me this who is going to kill me, 
 and why?" 
 
 He felt a convulsive shudder pass through 
 her as she answered, 
 
 "I said that I would not lie to you again. If 
 I can not tell you the truth I will tell you noth 
 ing. It is impossible for me to say why your 
 life is in danger." 
 
 "But you know?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He seated her again in the chair beside the 
 fable and sat down opposite her. 
 
 "Will you tell me who you are?" 
 
 She hesitated, twisting her fingers nervously 
 in a silken strand of her hair. 
 92
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 "Will you?" he persisted. 
 
 "If I tell you who I am," she said at last 
 "you will know who is threatening your life." 
 
 He staged at her in astonishment. 
 
 "The devil, you say!" The words slipped 
 from his lips before he could stop them. For 
 a second time the girl rose from her chair. 
 
 "You will go?" she entreated. "You will go 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 Her hand was on the latch of the door. 
 
 "You will go?" 
 
 He had risen, and was lighting a cigar over 
 the chimney of the lamp. Laughing, he came 
 toward tar. 
 
 "Yes, surely I am going to see you safely 
 home.* Suddenly he turned back to the lounge 
 and belted on his revolver and holster. When 
 he returned she barred his way defiantly, her 
 back against the door. 
 
 "You can not go 1" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because " He caught the frightened 
 93
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 flutter of her voice again. "Because they X> 
 kill you!" 
 
 The low laugh that he breathed in her hail 
 IT as more of joy than fear. 
 
 "I am glad that you care," he whispered to her 
 softly. 
 
 "You must go !" she still persisted. 
 
 "With you, yes,* he answered. 
 
 "No, no to-morrow. You must go bck to 
 Le Pas back into the South. Will you prom 
 ise me that?" 
 
 "Perhaps," he said. "I will tell you soon." 
 She surrendered to the determination in his voice 
 and allowed him to pass out into the night with 
 her. Swiftly she led him along a path that ran 
 into the deep gloom of the balsam and spruce. 
 He could hear the throbbing of her heart and 
 her quick, excited breathing as she stopped, one 
 of her hands clasping him nervously by the 
 arm. 
 
 "It is not very far from here," she whis 
 pered. **You must not go with me. If they 
 94
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 u, wiih you at this hour " He felt her 
 shuddering against him. 
 
 "Only a little farther," he begged. 
 
 She surrendered again, hesitatingly, and ihej 
 rent on, more slowly than before, until they 
 tame to where a few faint lights in the camp 
 *ere visible ahead of them. 
 
 "Now now you must go !" 
 
 Rowland turned as if to obey. In an instant 
 fcKe girl was at his eide. 
 
 "You have not promised,* sh* entreated. 
 "Will you go to-morrow ?" 
 
 In the luster of the eyes that were turned up 
 to him in the gloom Rowland saw again the 
 strange* sweet power that had taken possession 
 of his f.mil. It did not occur to him in these 
 moments that he had known this girl for only a 
 few hows, that until to-night he had heard no 
 word pass from her lips. He was conscious 
 only that in the space of those few hours some- 
 thing had come into his life which he had never 
 known before; and a deep longing to tell her 
 95
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 this, to take her sweet face between his hands, 
 as they stood in the gloom of the forest, and to 
 confess to her that she had become more to him 
 than a passing vision in a strange wilderness filled 
 him. That night he had forgotten half of the 
 strenuous lesson he had striven years to master ; 
 success, ambition, the mere joy of achievement, 
 were for the first time sunk under a greater 
 thing for him the pulsating, human presence 
 of this girl ; and as he looked down into her face, 
 pleading with him still in its white, silent terror, 
 he forgot, too, what this woman was or might 
 have been, knowing only that to him she had 
 opened a new and glorious world filled with a 
 promise that stirred his blood like sharp wine. 
 He crushed her hands once more to his breast 
 as he had done on the Great North Trail, hold 
 ing her so close that he could feel the throbbing 
 of her bosom against him. He spoke no word 
 and still her eyes pleaded with him to go. Sud 
 denly he freed one of his hands and brushed 
 back the thick hair from her brow and turned 
 96
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 her face gently, until what dim light came down 
 from the stars \bove glowed in the beauty of 
 her eyes. In his 3wn face she saw that which he 
 had not dared to speak, and from her lips there 
 came a soft little sobbing cry. 
 
 "No, I have not promised and I will not 
 promise," he said, holding her face so that she 
 could not look away from him. "Forgive me 
 for for doing this " And before she could 
 move he caught her for a moment close in his 
 arms, holding her so that he felt the quick beat 
 ing of her heart against his own, the sweep of 
 her hair and breath in his face. "This is why I 
 will not go back," he cmd softly. "It is be 
 cause I love you love you " 
 
 He caught himself, choking back the words, 
 and as she drew away from him her eyes shone 
 vith a glory that made him half reach out his 
 arms to her. 
 
 "You will forgive me !" he begged. "I do not 
 mean to do wrong. Only, you must know why 
 S shall not go back into the South." 
 97
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 From her distance she saw his arms stretched 
 tike shadows toward her. Her voice was low, so 
 low that he could hardly hear the words she 
 spoke, but its sweetness thrilled him. 
 
 "If you love me you will do this thingr for me, 
 You will go to-morrow." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "I?" He heard the tremulous quiver in her 
 voice. "Very soon you will forget that you have 
 ever seen me." 
 
 From down the path there came the sound of 
 low voices. Excitedly the girl ran to Howland, 
 thrusting him back with her hands. 
 
 "Go! Go!" she cried tensely. "Hurry back 
 to the cabin ! Lock your door and don t come 
 out again to-night ! Oh, please, if you love me, 
 please, go " 
 
 The voices were approaching. Howland fan 
 cied that he could distinguish dark shadows be 
 tween the thinned walls of the forest. He 
 laughed softly. 
 
 "I am not going to run, little girl," he whis- 
 98
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 pered. "See?" He drew his revolver so that it 
 gleamed in the light of the stars. 
 
 With a frightened gasp the girl pulled him 
 into the thick bushes beside the path until they 
 stood a dozen paces from where those who were 
 coming down the trail would pass. There was a 
 silence as Rowland slipped his weapon back 
 into its holster. Then the voices came again, 
 very near, and at the sound of chem his com 
 panion shrank close to him, her hands clutching 
 his arms, her white, frightened face raised to 
 him in piteous appeal. His blood leaped 
 through him like fire. He knew that the girl 
 had recognized the voices that they who were 
 about to pass him were the mysterious enemies 
 against whom she had warned him. Perhaps 
 they were the two who had attacked him on the 
 Great North Trail. His muscles grew tense. 
 The girl could feel them straining under her 
 hands, could feel his body grow rigid and alert. 
 His hand fell again on his revolver; he made a 
 step past her, his eyes flashing, his face as set 
 99
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 as iron. Almost sobbing, she pressed herself 
 ag-ainst his breast, holding him back. 
 
 "Don t don t don t " she whispered. 
 
 They could hear the cracking of brush under 
 the feet of those who were approaching. Sud 
 denly the sounds ceased not twenty paces away. 
 
 From his arms the girl s hands rose slowly to 
 his shoulders, to his face, caressingly, pleading 
 ly; her beautiful eyes glowed, half with terror, 
 half with a prayer to him. 
 
 "Don t !" she breathed again, so close that her 
 sweet breath fell warm on his face. "Don t if 
 you if you care for me !" 
 
 Gently he drew her close in his arms, crushing 
 her face to his breast, kissing her hair, her eyes- 
 her mouth. 
 
 "I love you," he whispered again and again 
 
 The steps were resumed, the voices died away. 
 Then there came a pressure against his breast, 
 a gentle resistance, and he opened his arms so 
 that the girl drew back from him. Her lips 
 smiling at him, and in that smile there was 
 100
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 gentle accusation, the sweetness of forgiveness$ 
 and h** could see that with these there had come 
 also a flush into her cheeks and a dazzling glow 
 into her eyes. 
 
 "They are gone," she said tremblingly. 
 "Yes ; they are gone." 
 
 He stood looking down into her glowing face 
 in silence. Then, "They are gone," he repeated. 
 "They were the men who tried to kill me at 
 Prince Albert. I have let them go for you. 
 Will you tell me your name?" 
 
 "Yes that much now. It is Meleese." 
 "Meleese!" 
 
 The name fell from him sharply. In an instant 
 there recurred to him all that Croisset had said, 
 and there almost came from his lips the half- 
 breed s words, which had burned themselves in 
 his memory, "Perhaps you will understand 
 when I tell you this warning is sent to you by 
 the little Meleese." What had Croisset meant? 
 "Meleese," he repeated, looking strangely 
 into the girl s face. 
 
 101
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "Yes Meleese " 
 
 She drew back from him slowly, the color 
 fading from her cheeks ; and as she saw the light 
 in his eyes, there burst from her a short, stifled 
 cry. 
 
 "Now you understand you understand 
 why you must go back into the South," she 
 almost sobbed. "Oh, I have sinned to tell you 
 my name! But you will go, won t you? You 
 will go for me " 
 
 "For you I would go to the end of the earth !" 
 interrupted Rowland, his pale face near to her. 
 "But you must tell me why. I don t understand 
 you. I don t know why those men tried to kill 
 me in Prince Albert. I don t know why my life 
 is in danger here. Croisset told me that my 
 warning back there came from a girl named 
 Meleese. I didn t understand him. I don t un 
 derstand you. It is all a mystery to me. SQ 
 far as I know I have never had enemies. I neve* 
 heard your name until Croisset spoke it. What 
 did he mean? What do you mean? Why do 
 102
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 you Want to drive me from the Wekusko? 
 is my life in danger? It is for you to tell me 
 these things. I have been honest with you. I 
 love you. I will fight for you if it is necessary 
 but you must tell me tell me " 
 
 His breath was hot in her face, and she staged 
 at him as if what she heard robbed her of the 
 power of speech. 
 
 "Won t you tell me?" he whispered, more 
 softly. "Meleese " She made no effort to re 
 sist him as he drew her once more in his arms, 
 crushing her sweet lips to his own. "Meleese, 
 won t you tell me?" 
 
 Suddenly she lifted her hands to his face and 
 pushed back his head, looking squarely into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "If I tell you," she said softly, "and in tell 
 ing you I betray those whom I love, will you 
 promise to bring harm to none of them, but 
 go back into the South?" 
 
 "And leave you ?" 
 
 "Yes and leave me." 
 103
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 There was the faintest tremor of a sob in the 
 voice which she was trying so hard to control. 
 His arms tightened about her. 
 
 "I will swear to do what is best for you and 
 for me," he replied. "I will swear to b/ing 
 harm to none whom you care to shield. But T 
 will not promise to leave you !" 
 
 A soft glow came into the girl s eyes as she 
 enclasped his arms and stood back from him. 
 
 "I will think think " she whispered quick 
 ly. "Perhaps I will tell you to-morrow night 
 here if you will keep your oath and do what is 
 best for you and for me." 
 
 "I swear it!" 
 
 "Then I will meet you here at this time 
 when the others are asleep. But to-morrow 
 you will be careful careful " Unconsciously 
 she half reached her arms out to him as she 
 turned toward the path. "You will be careful* 
 to-morrow promise me that." 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 Like a shadow she was gone. He heard her 
 104
 
 THE LOVE OF A MAN 
 
 quick steps running up the path, saw her form 
 as it disappeared in the forest gloom. For a 
 few moments longer he stood, hardly breathing, 
 until he knew that she had gone beyond his hear 
 ing. Then he walked swiftly along the foot 
 path that led to the cabin. 
 
 105
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 IN the new excitement that pulsated witK every 
 fiber of his being, Rowland forgot his own 
 danger, forgot his old caution and the fears that 
 gave birth to it, forgot everything in these mo 
 ments but Meleese and his own great happiness. 
 For he was happy, happier than he had ever been 
 in his life, happier than he had ever expected to 
 be. He was conscious of no madness in thif 
 strange, new joy that swept through his bein^ 
 like a fire ; he did not stop to weigh with himself 
 the unreasoning impulses that filled him. He had 
 held Meleese in his arms, he had told her of his 
 love, and though she had accepted it with gentle 
 unresponsiveness he was thrilled by the memory 
 of that last look in her eyes, which had spoken 
 faith, confidence, and perhaps even more. And 
 hi* faith in her had become as limitless as the blu<> 
 106
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 space above him. He had known her for but a few 
 hours and yet in that time it seemed to him that 
 he had lived longer than in all of the years that 
 had gone before. She had lied to him, had di 
 vulged only a part of her identity and yet he 
 knew that there were reasons for these things. 
 
 To-morrow night he would see her again, and 
 then 
 
 What would she tell him? Whatever it was, it 
 was to be a reward for his own love. He knew 
 that, by the half-fearing tremble of her voice, 
 the sobbing catch of her breath, the soft glow in 
 her eyes. Impelled by that love, would she con 
 fide in him? And then would he go back into 
 the South? 
 
 He laughed, softly, joyfully. 
 
 Yes, he would go back into the South he 
 would go to the other end of the earth, if she 
 Jrould go with him. What was the building of 
 this railroad now to that other great thing that 
 had come into his life? For the first time he saw 
 duty in another light. There were others who 
 107
 
 THfc DANGER TRAIL 
 
 could build the road; success, fortune, ambition 
 in the old way he had seen them -were over 
 shadowed now by this love of a girl. 
 
 He stopped and lighted his pipe. The fra 
 grant odor of the tobacco, the flavor of the warm 
 smoke in his mouth, helped to readjust him, to 
 cool his heated brain. The old fighting instincts 
 leaped into life again. Go into the South? He 
 asked himself the question once more, and in the 
 gloomy silence of the forest his low laugh fell 
 again as he clenched his hands in anticipation of 
 what was ahead of him. No he would build the 
 road ! And in building it he would win this girl, 
 if it was given for him to possess her. 
 
 His saner thoughts brought back hJs caution. 
 He went more slowly toward the cabin, keeping 
 in the deep shadows and stopping now and then 
 to listen. At the edge of the clearing he paused 
 for a long time. There was no sign of life about 
 the cabin abandoned by Gregson and Thome. It 
 was probable that the two men who had passed 
 along the path had returned to the camp by D* 
 108
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 other trail, and still keeping as much within the 
 shadows as possible he went to the door and en 
 tered. 
 
 With his feet propped in front of the big box 
 stove sat Jackpine. The Indian rose as Howland 
 entered, and something in the sullen gloom of his 
 face caused the young engineer to eye him ques- 
 tioningly. 
 
 "Any one been here, Jackpine ?" 
 
 The old sledge-driver gave his head a negative 
 shake and hunched his shoulders, pointing at the 
 same time to the table, on which lay a carefully 
 folded piece of paper. 
 
 "Thome," he grunted. 
 
 Howland spread out the paper in the light of 
 the lamp, and read : 
 
 DEAII HOWLANI* ; 
 "I forgot to tell you that our mail sledge 
 starts for Le Pas to-morrow at noon, and as I m 
 planning on going down with it I want you to 
 get over as early as you can in the morning. Can 
 put you on to everything in the camp between 
 eight ind twelve. THORNE." 
 
 109
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 A whistle of astonishment escaped HowlantV*f 
 lips. 
 
 "Where do you sleep, Jackpine?" he asked 
 guddenly. 
 
 "Cabin in edge of woods," replied the Indian. 
 
 "How about breakfast? Thome hasn t put me 
 on to the grub line yet." 
 
 "Thorne say you eat with heem in mornin*. 
 I come early wake you. After heem go to 
 morrow eat here." 
 
 "You needn t wake me," said Howland, throw 
 ing off his coat. "I ll find Thorne probably be 
 fore he s up. Good night." 
 
 Jackpine had half opened the door, and for 
 a moment the engineer caught a glimpse of his 
 dark, grinning face looking back over his shoul 
 der. He hesitated, as if about to speak, and then 
 Urith a mouthful of his inimitable chuckles, he 
 vent out. 
 
 After bolting the door Howland lighted a 
 .ma]l table lamp, entered the sleeping room and 
 prepared for bed. 
 
 110
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 "Got to have a little sleep no matter if things 
 are gokig off like a Fourth of July celebration," 
 he grumbled, and rolled between the sheets. 
 
 In spite of his old habit of rising with the. 
 breaking of dawn it was Jackpine who awakened 
 him a few hours later. The camp was hardly 
 astir when he followed the Indian down among 
 the log cabins to Thome s quarters. The senioi 
 engineer was already dressed. 
 
 * -i vy to hustle you so, Howland," he greeted, 
 "but I ve got to go down with the mail. Just be 
 tween you and me I don t believe the camp doctor 
 \s much on his job. I ve got a deuced bad shoul 
 der and a worse arm, and I m going down to a 
 good surgeon as fast as I can." 
 
 "Didn t they send Weston up with you? * 
 asked Howland. He knew that Weston was the 
 best "accident man" in the company s employ. 
 
 "Yes Weston," replied the senior, eying hint 
 
 sharply. "I don t mean to say he s not a good 
 
 man, Howland," he amended quickly. "But he 
 
 doesn t quite seem to take hold of this hurt of 
 
 111
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 mine. By the way, I looked over our pay-roll and 
 there is no Croisset on it." 
 
 For an hour after breakfast the two men were 
 busy with papers, maps and drawings relative to 
 the camp work. Rowland had kept in close touch 
 with operations from Chicago and by the time 
 they were ready to leave for outside inspection 
 he was confident that he could take hold without 
 the personal assistance of either Gregson or 
 Thome. Before that hour had passed he was 
 certain of at least one other thing that it was 
 not incompetency that was taking the two senior 
 engineers back to the home office. He had half 
 expected to find the working-end in the same dis 
 organized condition as its chiefs. But if Greg- 
 son and Thorne had been laboring under a tre 
 mendous strain of some kind it was not reflected 
 in the company s work, as shown in the office 
 records which the latter had spread out before 
 him. 
 
 "That j a big six months work," said Thorne 
 when they had finished. "Good Lord, man, whe 
 112
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 we first came up here a jack-rabbit couldn * 
 hop through this place where you re sitting, anc 
 now see what we ve got! Fifty cabins, foui 
 mess-halls, two of the biggest warehouses north 
 of Winnipeg, a post-office, a hospital, three 
 blacksmith shops and a ship-yard !" 
 
 "A ship-yard!" exclaimed Howland in gen 
 uine surprise. 
 
 "Sure, with a fifty-ton ship half built and 
 frozen stiff in the ice. You can finish her in the 
 spring and you ll find her mighty useful for 
 bringing supplies from the head of the Wekusko. 
 We re using horses on the ice now. Had a 
 deuced hard time in getting fifty of em up from 
 Le Pas. And besides all this, we ve got six 
 miles of road-bed built to the south and three tc 
 the north. We ve got a sub-camp at each work 
 ing-end, but most of the men still prefer to come 
 in at night." He dragged himself slowly and 
 painfully to his feet as a knock sounded at the 
 door. "That s MacDonald, our camp superin 
 tendent," he explained. "Told him to be her* 
 113
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 at eight. He s a corker for taking hold of 
 things." 
 
 A little, wiry, red-headed man hopped in ai 
 Thome threw open the door. The moment his 
 eyes fell on Rowland he sprang forward with 
 outstretched hand, smiling and bobbing his head. 
 
 "Howland, of course!" he cried. "Glad to 
 see you! Five minutes late awful sorry but 
 they re having the devil s own time over at a 
 coyote we re going to blow this morning, and 
 that s what kept me." 
 
 From Howland he whirled on the senior with 
 the sudden movement of a cricket. 
 
 "How s the arm, Thorne? And if there s any 
 mercy in your corpus tell me if Jackpine brought 
 me the cigarettes from Le Pas. If he forgot 
 them, as the mail did, I ll have his life as sure " 
 
 "He brought them," said Thorne. "But how 
 about this coyote, Mac? I thought it was ready 
 to fire." 
 
 "So it is now. The south ridge is scheduled 
 to go up at ten o clock. We ll blow up the big 
 114
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 north mountains sometime to-night. It ll mala 
 a glorious fireworks one hundred and twenty- 
 five barrels of powder and four fifty-pound cases 
 of dynamite and if you can t walk that far, 
 Thome, we ll take you up on a sledge. Mustn t 
 allow you to miss it !" 
 
 "Sorry, but I ll have to, Mac. I m going 
 south with the mail. That s why I want you 
 with Howland and me this morning. It will be 
 up to you to get him acquainted with every de 
 tail in camp." 
 
 "Bully!" exclaimed the little superintendent, 
 rubbing his hands with brisk enthusiasm. 
 "Greggy and Thorne have done some remark 
 able things, Mr. Howland. You ll open your 
 eyes when you see em! Talk about building 
 railroads! We ve got em all beat a thousand 
 ways tearing through forests, swamps and 
 those blooming ridge-mountains and here we 
 are pretty near up at the end of the earth. The 
 new Trans-continental isn t in it with us I 
 The" 
 
 115
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "Tling off, Mac!" exclaimed Thome; and 
 t fcwiand found himself laughing down into the 
 red, fyeckled face of the superintendent. He 
 liked tl/is man immensely from the first. 
 
 "He s a bunch of live wires, double-charged 
 all the tims." said Thorne in a low voice as Mae- 
 Donald went out ahead of them. "Always like 
 that happy jts a boy most of the time, loved 
 by the men, but the very devil himself when he s 
 riled. Don t kEOve what this camp would do 
 without him." 
 
 This same thought occurred to Howland a 
 dozen times during the next two hours. Mac- 
 Donald seemed to be the life and law of the camp, 
 and he wondered more and more at ThorneV de 
 meanor. The camp chiefs and gang foremen 
 whom they met seemed to stand in a certain awe 
 of the senior engineer, but it was at the litue 
 red-headed Scotchman s cheery words that thafc 
 eyes lighted with enthusiasm. This was not liku 
 the old Thorne, who had been the eye, the ea/ 
 and the tongue of the company s greatest ec 
 116
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 gineering works for a decade past, and whose 
 boundless enthusiasm and love of work had been 
 the largest factors in the winning of fame that 
 was more than national. He began to note that, 
 there was a strange nervousness about Thorne 
 when they were among the men, an uneasy alert 
 ness in his eyes, as though he were looking for 
 some particular face among those they encoun 
 tered. MacDonald s shrewd eyes observed hia 
 perplexity, and once he took an opportunity to 
 whisper : 
 
 "I guess it s about time for Thorne to get 
 back into civilization. There s something bad in 
 his system. Weston told me yesterday that his 
 injuries are coming along finely. I don t under 
 stand it." 
 
 A little later they returned with Thorne to hi* 
 room. 
 
 "I want Howland to see this south coyote gc 
 up," said MacDonald. "Can you spare him? 
 We ll be back before noon." 
 
 "Certainly. Come and take dinner witb me at 
 117
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 twelve. That will give me time to make memo* 
 randa of things I may have forgotten." 
 
 Howland fancied that there was a certain tone 
 of relief in the senior s voice, but he made no 
 mention of it to the superintendent as they 
 walked swiftly to the scene of the "blow-out." 
 The coyote was ready for firing when they ar 
 rived. The coyote itself a tunnel of fifty feet 
 dug into the solid rock of the mountain and ter 
 minating in a chamber packed with explosives 
 was closed by masses of broken rock, rammed 
 tight, and MacDonald showed his companion 
 where the electric wire passed to the fuse within. 
 
 "It s a confounded mystery to me why Thorne 
 doesn t care to see this ridge blown up !" he ex 
 claimed after they had finished the inspection. 
 "We ve been at work for three months drilling 
 this coyote, and the bigger one to the north. 
 There are four thousand square yards of rock 
 to come out of there, and six thousand out of 
 the other. You don t see shots like those three 
 times in a lifetime, and there ll not be another 
 118
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 for us between here and the bay. What s the 
 matter with Thorne?" 
 
 Without waiting for a reply MacDonald 
 Hvalked swiftly in the direction of a ridge to the 
 right. Already guards had been thrown out on 
 all sides of the mountain and their thrilling 
 warnings of "Fire Fire Fire," shouted 
 through megaphones of birch-bark, echoed with 
 ominous meaning through the still wilderness, 
 where for the time all work had ceased. On the 
 top of the ridge half a hundred of the workmen 
 had already assembled, and as Howland and thv, 
 superintendent came among them they fell bacl? 
 from around a big, flat boulder on which was 
 stationed the electric battery. MacDonald s face 
 was flushed and his eyes snapped like dragon- 
 flies as he pointed to a tiny button. 
 
 "God, but I can t understand why Thorne 
 doesn t care to see this," he said again. "Think 
 of it, man seven thousand five hundred pounds 
 of powder and two hundred of dynamite! A 
 touch of this button, a flash along the wire, and 
 119
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 *Jie fuse is struck. Then, four or five minutes^, 
 and up goes a mountain that has stood here since 
 the world began. Isn t it glorious?" He 
 ftraightened himself and took off his hat. "Mr. 
 Rowland, will you press the button?" 
 
 With a strange thrill Rowland bent over the 
 battery, his eyes turned to the mass of rock loom 
 ing sullen and black half a mile away, as if bid 
 ding defiance in the face of impending fate. 
 Tremblingly his finger pressed on the little white 
 knob, and a silence like that of death fell on those 
 who watched. One minute two three five 
 passed, while in the bowels of the mountain the 
 fuse was sizzling to its end. Then there came a 
 puff, something like a cloud of dust rising sky 
 ward, but without sound ; and before its upward 
 belching had ceased a tongue of flame spurted 
 out of its crest and after that, perhaps two sec 
 onds later, came the explosion. There was a 
 rumbling and a jarring, as if the earth were 
 convulsed under foot; volumes of dense black 
 smoke shot upward, shutting the mountain in 
 120
 
 an impenetrable pall of gloom ; and in an instant 
 these rolling, twisting volumes of black became 
 lurid, and an explosion like that of a thousand 
 great guns rent the air. As fast as the eye 
 could follow, sheets of flame shot out of the 
 sea of smoke, climbing higher and higher, in 
 lightning flashes, until the lurid tongues licked 
 the air a quarter of a mile above the startled 
 wilderness. Explosion followed explosion, some 
 of them coming in hollow, reverberating booms, 
 others sounding as if in mid-air. The heavens 
 were filled with hurtling rocks; solid masses of 
 granite ten feet square were thrown a hundred 
 feet away; rocks weighing a ton were hurled 
 still farther, as if they were no more than stones 
 flung by the hand of a giant ; chunks that would 
 have crashed from the roof to the basement of 
 a sky-scraper dropped a third and nearly a half 
 a mile away. For three minutes the frightful 
 convulsions continued. Then the lurid lights 
 died out of the pall of smoke, and the pall itself 
 began to settle. Rowland felt a grip on his 
 121
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 ftrm. Dumbly he turned and looked into the 
 white, staring face of the superintendent. His 
 ears tingled, every fiber in him seemed unstrung. 
 ftiacDonald s voice came to him strange and 
 "veird. 
 
 **What do you think of that, Rowland ?" 
 The two men gripped hands, and when they 
 looked again they saw dimly through dust and 
 smoke only torn and shattered masses of rock 
 where had been the giant ridge that barred the 
 path of the new road to the bay. 
 
 Howland talked but little on their way back 
 to camp. The scene that he had just witnessed 
 affected him strangely; it stirred once more 
 within him all of his old ambition, all of his old 
 enthusiasm, and yet neither found voice in words. 
 He was glad when the dinner was over at 
 Thome s, and with the going of the mail sledge 
 Uid the senior engineer there came over him a 
 still deeper sense of joy. Now he was in charge; 
 it was his road from that hour on. He crushed 
 MacDonald s hand in a grip that meant more 
 122
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 than words when they parted. In his own cabin 
 he threw off his coat and hat, lighted his pipe, 
 and tried to realize just what this all meant fof 
 him. He was in charge in charge of the great* 
 est railroad building job on earth he, Jack 
 Howland, who less than twenty years ago was a 
 barefooted, half -starved urchin peddling papers 
 in the streets where he was now famous! And 
 now what was this black thing that had come up 
 to threaten his chances just as he had about won 
 his great fight? He clenched his hands as he 
 thought again of what had already happened 
 the cowardly attempt on his life, the warnings, 
 and his blood boiled to fever heat. That night 
 after he had seen Meleese he would know 
 what to do. But he would not be driven away, 
 as Gregson and Thorne had been driven. He 
 was determined on that. I 
 
 The gloom of night falls early in the great 
 northern mid-winter, and it was already grow 
 ing dusk when there came the sound of a voice 
 outside, followed a moment later by a loud knock 
 123
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 at the door. At Rowland s invitation the doof 
 opened and the head and shoulders of a mar ap 
 peared. 
 
 "Something has gone wrong out at the north 
 coyote, sir, and Mr. MacDonald wants you just 
 as fast as you can get out there," he said. "He 
 sent me down for you with a sledge." 
 
 "MacDonald told me the thing was ready for 
 firing," said Howland, putting on his hat and 
 coat. "What s the matter?" 
 
 "Bad packing, I guess. Heard him swearing 
 about it. He s in a terrible sweat to see you." 
 
 Half an hour later the sledge drew up close 
 to the place where Howland had seen a score of 
 men packing bags of powder and dynamite 
 earlier in the day. Half a dozen lanterns were 
 burning among the rocks, but there was no sign 
 of movement or life. The engineer s companion 
 gave a sudden sharp crack of his long whip and 
 in response to it there came a muffled halloo from 
 out of the gloom. 
 
 "That s MacDonald, sir. You ll find him 
 144
 
 THE BLOWING OF THE COYOTE 
 
 right up there near that second light, where the 
 coyote opens up. He s grilling the life out of 
 half a dozen men in the chamber, where he found 
 the dynamite on top of the powder instead of 
 under it." 
 
 "All right !" called back Rowland, starting uj 
 among the rocks. Hardly had he taken a dozen 
 steps when a dark object shot out behind him 
 and, fell with crushing force on his head. With 
 a groaning cry he fell forward on his face. For 
 a few moments he was conscious of voices about 
 him; he knew that he was being lifted in the 
 arms of men, and that after a time they were 
 carrying him so that his feet dragged on the 
 ground. After that he seemed to be sinking 
 down down down until he lost all sense o* 
 existence in a chaos of inky blackness. 
 
 125
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THE HOTTB OP DEATH 
 
 A RED, unwinking eye staring at him fixedly 
 from out of impenetrable gloom an ogre- 
 ish, gleaming thing that brought life back into 
 him with a thrill of horror was Rowland s first 
 vision of returning consciousness. It was dead 
 in front of him, on a level with his face a ball 
 of yellow fire that seemed to burn into his very 
 soul. He tried to cry out, but no sound fell 
 from his lips; he strove to move, to fight him 
 self away, but there was no power of movement 
 in his limbs. The eye grew larger. He saw that 
 It was so bright it cast a halo, and the halo wid 
 ened before his own staring eyes until the dense 
 gloom about it seemed to be melting away. Then 
 e knew. It was a lantern in front of him, not 
 more than, ten feet away. Consciousness flooded 
 him, and he made another effort to cry out.
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 to free his arms from an invisible clutch that 
 held him powerless. At first he thought this 
 was the clutch of human hands; then, as the 
 lantern-light revealed more clearly the things 
 about him and the outlines of his own figure, he 
 saw that it was a rope, and he knew that he was 
 unable to cry out because of something tight and 
 suffocating about his mouth. 
 
 The truth came to him swiftly. He had come 
 up to the coyote on a sledge. Some one had 
 struck him. He remembered that men had half- 
 dragged him over the rocks, and these men had 
 bound and gagged him, and left him here, with 
 the lantern staring him in the face. But where 
 was he? He shifted his eyes, straining to pene 
 trate the gloom. Ahead of him, just beyond the 
 light, there was a black wall ; he could not move 
 his head, but he saw where that same wall closed 
 in on the left. He turned his gaze upward, 
 nd it ended with that same imprisoning barriei 
 of rock. Then he looked down, and the cry of 
 horror that rose in his throat died in a muffled 
 127
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 groan. The light fell dimly on a sack two of 
 them three a tightly packed wall of them. 
 
 He knew now what had happened. He wab 
 imprisoned in the coyote, and the sacks about him 
 were filled with powder. He was sitting on 
 something hard a box fifty pounds of dyna 
 mite! The cold sweat stood out in beads on his 
 face, glistening in the lantern-glow. From be 
 tween his feet a thin, white, ghostly line ran out 
 until it lost itself in the blackness under the lan 
 tern. It was the fuse, leading to the box of 
 dynamite on which he was sitting ! 
 
 Madly he struggled at the thongs that 
 bound him until he sank exhausted against the 
 row of powder sacks at his back. Like words of 
 fire the last warning of Meleese burned in his 
 brain "You must go, to-morrow to-morrow 
 or they will kill you !" And this was the way in 
 which he was to die! There flamed before his 
 2yes the terrible spectacle which he had witnesses 
 a few hours before the holocaust of fire anc 
 smoke and thunder that had disrupted a mouiv 
 128
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 tain, a chaos of writhing, twisting fury, and in 
 that moment his heart seemed to cease its beat- 
 mg. He closed his eyes and tried to calm him 
 self. Was it possible that there lived men so 
 fiendish as to condemn him to this sort of death? 
 Why had not his enemies killed him out among 
 the rocks? That would have been easier 
 quicker less troublesome. Why did they wish 
 to torture him? What terrible thing had he 
 done? Was he mad mad and this all a ter 
 rible nightmare, a raving ra)d unreal contortion 
 of things in his brain? In this hour of death 
 question after question raced through his head, 
 and he answered no one of them. He sat still 
 for a time, scarcely breathing. There was no 
 sound, save the beating of his own heart. Ther 
 there came another, almost unheard at first, faint, 
 Drilling, maddening. 
 
 Tick tick tick! 
 
 It was the beating of his watch, A spasm c* 
 horror seized him. 
 
 What time was it? 
 
 129
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 The coyote was to be fired at nine o clock. It 
 was four when he left his cabin. How long had 
 he been unconscious? Was it time now now? 
 Was MacDonald s finger already reaching out 
 to that little white button which would send him 
 into eternity ? 
 
 He struggled again, gnashing furiously at 
 the thing which covered his mouth, tearing the 
 flesh of his wrists as he twisted at the ropes 
 which bound him, choking himself with his ef 
 forts to loosen the thong about his neck. Ex 
 hausted again, he sank back, panting, half dead. 
 As he lay with closed eyes a little of his reason 
 asserted itself. After all, was he such a coward 
 as to go mad? 
 
 Tick tick tick! 
 
 His watch was beating at a furious rate. Was 
 something wrong with it? Was it going too 
 fast? He tried to count the seconds, but the$ 
 raced away from him. When he looked again 
 his gaze fell on the little yellow tongue of flamo 
 in the lantern globe. It was not the steady, UD 
 130
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 winking eye of a few minutes before. There 
 was a sputtering weakness about it now, and as 
 he watched the light grew fainter and fainter. 
 The flame was going out. A few minutes more 
 and he would be in darkness. At first the sig 
 nificance of it did not come to him; then he 
 straightened himself with a jerk that tightened 
 the thong about his neck until it choked him. 
 Hours must have passed since the lantern had 
 been placed on that rock, else the oil would not 
 be burned out of it now ! 
 
 For the first time Howland realized that it was 
 becoming more and more difficult for him to get 
 breath. The thing about his neck was tighten 
 ing, slowly, inexorably, like a hot band of steel, 
 and suddenly, because of this tightening, he 
 found that he had recovered his voice. 
 
 "This damned rawhide is pinching my 
 Adam s apple " 
 
 Whatever had been about his mouth had 
 slipped down and his words sounded hollow and 
 choking in the rock-bound chamber. He tried 
 Wl
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 to raise his voice in a shout, though he knew how 
 futile his louoest shrieks would be. The effort 
 choked him more. His suffering was becoming 
 excruciating. Sharp pains darted like red-hot 
 needles through his limbs, his back tortured him, 
 and his head ached as thougn n. knife had cleft* 
 the base of his skull. The strength of his limbs 
 was leaving him. He no longer felt any sensa 
 tion in his cramped feet. He measured the 
 paralysis creeping up his legs inch by inch, 
 driving the sharp pains before it and then a 
 groan of horror rose to his lips. 
 
 The light had gone out ! 
 
 As if that dying of the little yellow flame were 
 th signal for his death, there came to his ears 
 A /harp hissing sound,, a spark leaped up into 
 ths blackness before his eyes, and a slow, creep 
 ing glow came toward him over the rock at hi? 
 feet. 
 
 The hour the minute the second had come, 
 and MacDonald had pressed the little white but 
 ton that was to send him into eternity ! He did
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 not cry out now. He knew that the end was very 
 near, and in its nearness he found new strength. 
 Once he had seen a man walk to his death on the 
 scaffold, and as the condemned had spoken hia 
 last farewell, with the noose about his neck, he 
 had marveled at the clearness of his voice, at the 
 fearlessness of this creature in his last moment 
 on earth. 
 
 Now he understood. Inch by inch the fuse 
 burned toward him a fifth of the distance, a 
 quarter now a third. At last it reached a half 
 was almost under his feet. Two minutes more 
 of life. He put his whole strength once again in 
 an attempt to free his hands. This time his at 
 tempt was cool, steady, masterful with death 
 one hundred seconds away. His heart gave a 
 sudden bursting leap into his throat when he felt 
 something give. Another effort and in the 
 powder-choked vault there rang out a thrilling 
 cry of triumph. His hands were free! He 
 reachec forward to the fuse, and this time a 
 moanin^, wordless sob fell from him, faint, terri 
 133
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 fying, with all the horror that might fill a human 
 soul in its inarticulate note. He could not reach 
 the fuse because of the thong about his neck ! 
 
 He felt for his knife. He had left it in hi* 
 room. Sixty seconds more forty thirty ! He 
 could see the fiery end of the fuse almost at hi& 
 feet. Suddenly his groping fingers came in con 
 tact with the cold steel of his pocket revolver 
 and with a last hope he snatched it forth, stretch 
 ing down his pistol arm until the muzzle of the 
 weapon was within a dozen inches of the deadly 
 spark. At his first shot the spark leaped, but 
 did not go out. After the second there was no 
 longer the fiery, creeping thing on the floor, and. 
 crushing his head back against the sacks, How- 
 land sat for many minutes as if death had in 
 reality come to him in the moment of his deliver* 
 ance. After a time, with tedious slowness, hi 
 worked a hand into his trousers pocket, wheit 
 he carried a pen-knife. It took him a long tim* 
 to saw through the rawhide thong about hif 
 lift
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 leek. After that he cut the rope that bound his 
 inkles, 
 
 He made an effort to rise, but no sooner had 
 lie gained his feet than his paralyzed limbs gave 
 ray under him and he dropped in a heap on the 
 floor. Very slowly the blood began finding its 
 way through his choked veins again, and with 
 the change there came over him a feeling of in 
 finite restf ulness. He stretched himself out, with 
 his face turned to the black wall above, realizing 
 only that he was saved, that he had outwitted his 
 mysterious enemies again, and that he was com 
 fortable. He made no effort to think to scheme 
 out his further deliverance. He was with the 
 powder and the dynamite, and the powder and 
 the dynamite could not be exploded until human 
 bands came to attach a new fuse. MacDonald 
 would attend to that very soon, so he went off 
 Into a doze that was almost sleep. In his half- 
 Consciousness there came to him but one sound 
 dreadful ticking of his watch. He seemed 
 
 135
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 tt have listened to it for hours when there arose 
 an ither sound tht- ticking of anothev watch. 
 
 He sat up, startled, wondering, and then h* 
 laughed happily as he heard the sound more 
 distinctly. It was the beating of picks on the 
 rock outside. Already MacDonald s men were at 
 work clearing the mouth of the coyote. In half 
 an hour he would be out in the big, breathing 
 world again. 
 
 The thought brought him to his feet. The 
 numbness was gone from his limbs and he could 
 walk about. His first move was to strike a match 
 and look at his watch. 
 
 "Half -past ten!" 
 
 He spoke the words aloud, thinking of Me- 
 leese. In an hour and a half he was to meet \er 
 on the trail. Would he be released in time to 
 keep the tryst? How should he explain his im 
 prisonment in the coyote so that he could leave 
 MacDonald without further loss of time? Af 
 the sound of the picks came nearer his brain be 
 gan working faster. If he could only evade ex- 
 136
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 planations until morning and then reveal the 
 whole dastardly business to MacDonald ! There 
 would be time then for those explanations, for 
 the running down of his murderous assailants, 
 and in the while he would be able to keep his 
 appointment with Meleese. 
 
 He was not long in finding a way in which 
 this scheme could be worked, and gathering up 
 the severed ropes and rawhide he concealed them 
 between two of the powder sacks so that those 
 who entered the coyote would discover no signs 
 of his terrible imprisonment. Close to the mouth 
 of the tunnel there was a black rent in the wall 
 of rock, made by a bursting charge of dyna 
 mite, in which he could conceal himself. When 
 the men were busy examining the broken fuse he 
 would step out and join them. It would look as 
 though he had crawled through the tunnel after 
 them. 
 
 Half an hour later a mass of rock rolled down 
 close to his feet, and a few moments after he saw 
 a shadowy human form crawling through the 
 137
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 hole it had left. A second followed, and then a 
 third and the first voice he heard was that of 
 MacDonald. 
 
 Give us the lantern, Bucky," he called back, 
 and a gleam of light shot into the black chamber. 
 The men walked cautiously toward the fuse, and 
 Rowland saw the little superintendent fall on his 
 knees. 
 
 "What in hell!" he heard him exclaim, and 
 then there was a silence. As quietly as a cat 
 Howland worked himself to the entrance and 
 made a clatter among the rocks. It was he who 
 responded to the voice. 
 
 "What s up, MacDonald?" 
 
 He coolly joined the little group. MacDonald 
 looked up, and when he saw the new chief bend 
 ing over him his eyes stared in unbounded won 
 der. 
 
 "Howland P he gasped. 
 
 It was all he said, but in that one word and IP 
 the strange excitement in the superintendent s 
 face Howland read that which made him turn 
 138
 
 THE HOUR OF DEATH 
 
 quickly to the men, giving them his first com- 
 mand as general-in-chief of the road that war 
 going to the bay. 
 
 "Get out of the coyote, boys," he said. "We 
 won t do anything more until morning." 
 
 To MacDonald, as the men went out ihead of 
 them, he added in a low voice : 
 
 "Guard the entrance to this tunnel with half 
 a dozen of your best men to-night, MacDonald. 
 I know things which will lead me to investigate 
 this to-morrow. I m going to leave you as soon 
 as I get outside. Spread the report that it was 
 simply a bad fuse. Understand?" 
 
 He crawled out ahead of the superintendent, 
 and before MacDonald had emerged from the 
 coyote he had already lost himself in the starlit 
 gloom of the night and was hastening to his 
 tryst with the beautiful girl, who, he believed, 
 would reveal to him at least a part of one of the 
 strangest and most diabolical plots that had evel 
 originated in the brain of man. 
 
 139
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 IT still lacked nearly an hour of the appointed 
 time when Rowland came to the secluded 
 spot in the trail where he was to meet Meleese. 
 Concealed in the deep shadows of the bushes he 
 seated himself on the end of a fallen spruce and 
 loaded his pipe, taking care to light it with the 
 flare of the match hidden in the hollow of his 
 hands. For the first time since his terrible ex 
 perience in the coyote he found himself free to 
 think, and more than ever he began to see the 
 necessity of coolness and of judgment in what 
 he was about to do. Gradually, too, he fought 
 himself back into his old faith in Meleese. His 
 blood was tingling at fever heat in his desire for 
 rengeance, for the punishment of the human 
 fiends who had attempted to blow him to atoms, 
 and yet at the same time there was no bitterness 
 140
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 in him toward the girl. He was sure that she 
 was an unwilling factor in the plot, and that she 
 was doing all in her power to save him. At the 
 same time he began to realize that he should no 
 longer be influenced by her pleading. He had 
 promised in return for her confidence this night 
 to leave unpunished those whom she wished to 
 shield. He would take back that promise. Before 
 she revealed anything to him he would warn her 
 that he was determined to discover those who had 
 twice sought to kill him. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when he looked at his 
 watch again. Was it possible that Meleese 
 would not come? He could not bring himself, 
 to believe that she knew of his imprisonment in 
 the coyote of this second attempt on his life. 
 And yet if she did 
 
 He rose from the log and began pacing 
 quickly back and forth in the gloom, his 
 thoughts racing through his brain with increas 
 ing apprehension. Those who had imprisoned 
 him had learned of his escape an hour ago. 
 141
 
 Many things might have happened in that time 
 Perhapy they were fleeing from the camp. 
 Frightened by their failure, and fearing tht 
 punishment which would be theirs if discovered, 
 it was not improbable that even now they were 
 many miles from the Wekusko, hurrying deeper 
 into the unknown wilderness to the north. And 
 Meleese would be with them ! 
 
 Suddenly he heard a step, a light, running 
 step, and -vith a recognizing cry he sprang out 
 into the starlight to meet the slim, panting, 
 white-faced figure that ran to him from between 
 the thick walls of forest trees. 
 
 "Meleese!" he exclaimed softly. 
 
 He held out his arms and the girl ran straight 
 into them, thrusting her hands against his breast, 
 throwing back her head so that she looked up 
 into his face with great, staring, horror-filled 
 eyes. 
 
 "Now now " she sobbed, "now will you 
 go?" 
 
 Her hands left his breast and crept to Ids
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 shoulders; slowly they slipped over them, and 
 as Howland pressed her closer, his lips silent, she 
 ^ave an agonized cry and dropped her head 
 against his shoulder, her whole body torn in 61 
 convulsion of grief and terror that startled Aim. 
 
 "You will go?" she sobbed again and again. 
 "You will go you will go " 
 
 He ran his fingers through her soft hair, 
 crushing his face close to hers. 
 
 "No, I am not going, dear," he replied in a 
 low, firm voice. "Not after what happened to 
 night." 
 
 She drew away from him as quickly as if he 
 had struck her, freeing herself even from the 
 touch of his hands. 
 
 "I heard what happened an hour ago," she 
 said, her voice choking her. "I overheard 
 them talking." She struggled hard to con 
 trol herself. "You must leave the camp to 
 night." 
 
 In the gloom she saw Rowland s teeth gleam 
 ing. There was no fear in his smile; he laughed 
 143
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 gently down into her eyes as he took tar face 
 between his hands again. 
 
 "I want to take back the promise that I gave 
 you last night, Meleese. I want to give you a 
 chance to warn any whom you may wish to warn. 
 I shall not return into the South. From this hour 
 begins the hunt for the cowardly devils who have 
 tried to murder me. Before dawn every man on 
 the Wekusko will be in the search, and if we find 
 them there shall be no mercy. Will you help me, 
 or" 
 
 She struck his hands from her face, springing 
 back before he had finished. He saw a sudden 
 change of expression; her lips grew tenae and 
 firm; from the death whiteness of he? face 
 there faded slowly away the look of soft plead 
 ing, the quivering lines of fear. There was a 
 strangeness in her voice when she spoke some 
 thing of the hard determination which Howwnd 
 had put in his own, and yet the tone of it lacked 
 his gentleness and love. 
 
 "Will you please tell me the time?" 
 144
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 The question was almost startling. Rowland 
 held the dial of his watch to the light of th 
 stars. 
 
 "It is a quarter past midnight." 
 
 The faintest shadow of a smile passed ovej 
 the girl s lips. 
 
 "Are you certain that your watch is not fast ? v 
 she asked. 
 
 In speechless bewilderment Rowland stared t 
 her. 
 
 ^Because it will mean a great deal to you aitl 
 to me if it is not a quarter past midnight," ccr> 
 tinued Meleese, a growing glow in her eyns. 
 Suddenly she approached him and put both of 
 her warm hands to his face, holding down his 
 arms with her own. "Listen," she whispered. 
 ; Is there nothing nothing that will make you 
 change your purpose, that will take yon back 
 T nto the South to-night?" 
 
 The nearness of the sweet face, the gentle 
 touch of the girl s hands, the soft breath tsf her 
 tips, sent a maddening impulse through. How 
 145
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 land to surrender everything to her. For an in 
 stant he wavered. 
 
 "There might be one just one thing thaf 
 would take me away to-night," he replied, his 
 voice trembling with the great love that thrilled 
 him. "For you, Meleese, I would give up every 
 thing ambition, fortune, the building of this 
 road. If I go to-night will you go with me? 
 Will you promise to be my wife when we reach 
 Le Pas?" 
 
 A look of ineffable tenderness came into the 
 beautiful eyes so near to his own. 
 
 "That is impossible. You will not love me 
 when you know what I am what I have done " 
 
 He stopped her. 
 
 "Have you done wrong a great wrong?" 
 
 For a moment her eyes faltered; then, hesi 
 tatingly, there fell from her lips, "I don t 
 know. I believe I have. But it s not that iff 
 not that!" 
 
 "Do you mean that that I have no right t< 
 tell you I love you ?" he asked. "Do you meac 
 146
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 that it is wrong for you to listen to me? I I 
 took it for granted that you were a girl 
 that" 
 
 "No, no, it is not that," she cried quickly? 
 catching his meaning. "It is not wrong for 
 you to love me." Suddenly she asked again, 
 "Will you please tell me what time it is now?" 
 
 He looked again. 
 
 "Twenty-five minutes after midnight." 
 
 "Let us go farther up the trail." she whis 
 pered. "I am afraid here." 
 
 She led the way, passing swiftly beyond the 
 path that branched out to his cabin. Two hun 
 dred yards beyond this a tree had fallen on the 
 edge of the trail, and seating herself on it Me- 
 leese motioned for him to sit down beside her. 
 Rowland s back was to the thick bushes behind 
 tfiem. He looked at the girl, but she had turned 
 tway her face. Suddenly she sprang from the 
 log and stood in front of him. 
 
 "Now !" she cried. "Now !" and at that signal 
 Rowland s arms were seized from behind, and 
 147
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 in another instant he was struggling feebly ii 
 the grip of powerful arms which had fastened 
 themselves about him like wire cable, and the cry 
 that rose to his lips was throttled by a hand oveS 
 his mouth. For an instant he caught a glimpse 
 of the girl s white face as she stood in the trail ; 
 then strong hands pulled him back, while others 
 bound his wrists and still others held his legs. 
 Everything had passed in a few seconds. Help 
 lessly bound and gagged he lay on his back in 
 the snow, listening to the low voices that came 
 faintly to him from beyond the bushes. He 
 could understand nothing that they said and 
 yet he was sure that he recognized among them 
 the voice of Meleese. 
 
 The voices became fainter ; he heard retreating 
 footsteps, and at last they died away entirely. 
 Through a rift in the trees straight above him 
 the white, cold stars of the night gleamed dowr 
 on him, and Howland stared up at them fixedly 
 until they seemed to be hopping and dancing 
 about in the skies. He wanted to swear yell 
 148
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 fight. In these moments that he lay on iiie 
 in the freezing snow a million demons were born 
 in his blood. The girl had betrayed him again 
 This time he could find no excuse no pardoc 
 for her. She had accepted his love had allowed 
 him to kiss her, to hold her in his arms while 
 beneath that hypocrisy she had plotted his down 
 fall a second time. Deliberately she had given 
 the signal for attack, and now 
 
 He heard again the quick, running step that 
 he had recognized on the trail. The bushes be 
 hind him parted, and in the white starlight Me- 
 leese fell on her knees at his side, her glorious 
 face bending over him in a grief that he had 
 never seen in it before, her eyes shining on hirr 
 with a great love. Without speaking she lifted 
 his head in the hollow of her arm and crushec 1 
 her own down against it, kissing him, and softly 
 sobbing his name. 
 
 "Good-by," he heard her breathe. "Good-b\ 
 good-by " 
 
 He struggled to cry out as she lowered his 
 149
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 head back on the snow, to free his hands, to hold 
 her with him but he saw her face only once 
 more, bending over him ; felt the warm pressure 
 of her lips to his forehead, and then again he 
 could bear her footsteps hurrying away through 
 the
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A BACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 THAT Meleese loved him, that she had taken 
 his head in her arms, and had kissed him, 
 was the one consuming thought in Rowland s 
 brain for many minutes after she had left him 
 bound and gagged on the snow. That she had 
 made no effort to free him did not at first strike 
 him as significant. He still felt the sweet, warm 
 touch of her lips, the pressure of her arms, the 
 smothering softness of her hair. It was not 
 until he again heard approaching sounds that 
 he returned once more to a full consciousness of 
 the mysterious thing that had happened. He 
 heard first of all the creaking of a toboggan on 
 the hard crust, then the pattering of dogs feet, 
 and after that the voices of men. The sounds 
 stopped on the trail a dozen feet away from 
 him. 
 
 151
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 With a strange thrill he recognized Croisset s 
 ?oice. 
 
 "You must be sure that you make no mistake,* 
 he heard the half-breed say. "Go to the water 
 fall at the head of the lake and heave down a big 
 rock where the ice is open and the water boiling. 
 Track up the snow with a pair of M seur How- 
 land s high-heeled boots and leave his hat tangled 
 in the bushes. Then tell the superintendent that 
 he stepped on the stone and that it rolled down 
 and toppled him into the chasm. They could 
 never find his body and they will send down for 
 a new engineer in place of the lost M seur." 
 
 Stupefied with horror, Howland strained his 
 ears to catch the rest of the cold-blooded scheme 
 which he was overhearing, but the voices grew 
 lower and he understood no more that was said 
 until Croisset, coming nearer, called out: 
 
 "Help me with the M seur before you go 
 Jackpine. He is a dead weight with all those 
 rawhides about him." 
 
 As coolly as though he were not more than a 
 152
 
 A KACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 chunk of stovewood, Croisset and the Indian 
 came through the bushes, seized him by the head 
 and feet, carried him out into the trail and laic? 
 him lengthwise on the sledge. 
 
 "I hope you have not caught cold lying in 
 the snow, M seur," said Croisset, bolstering up> 
 the engineer s head and shoulders and covering 
 him with heavy furs. "We should have been 
 back sooner, but it was impossible. Hoo-la, 
 Woonga !" he called softly to his lead-dog. "Get 
 up there, you wolf-hound !" 
 
 As the sledge started, with Croisset running 
 close to the leader, Rowland heard the low snap 
 ping of a whip behind him and another voice 
 urging on other dogs. With an effort that al 
 most dislocated his neck he twisted himself so he 
 could look back of him. A hundred yards away 
 he discerned a second team following in his 
 trail; he saw a shadowy figure running at the 
 head of the dogs, but what there was on the 
 sledge, or what it meant, he could not see or 
 surmise. Mile after mile the two sledges con- 
 153
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 tinued without a stop. Croisset did not turn his 
 head; no word fell from his lips, except an oc 
 casional signal to the dogs. The trail had turned 
 flow straight into the North, and soon Rowland 
 could make out no sign of it, but knew only 
 that they were twisting through the most open 
 places in the forests, and that the play of the 
 Polar lights was never over his left shoulder or 
 his right, but always in his face. 
 
 They had traveled for several hours when 
 Croisset gave a sudden shrill shout to the rear 
 most sledge and halted his own. The dogs fell 
 in a panting group on the snow, and while they 
 were resting the half-breed relieved his prisoner 
 of the soft buckskin that had been used as a gag. 
 
 "It will be perfectly safe for you to talk now, 
 M seur, and to shout as loudly as you please," 
 he said. " After I have looked into your pockets 
 1 will free your hands so that you can smoke. 
 Are you comfortable?" 
 
 "Comfortable be damned!" were the first 
 words that fell from Rowland s lips, a tut 
 154
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 blowd boiled at the sociable way in which Croisset 
 grinned down into his face. "So you re in it- 
 too, eh? and that lying girl " 
 
 The smile left Croisset s face. 
 
 "Do you mean Meleese, M seur Rowland?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Croisset leaned down with his black eyes 
 gleaming like coals. 
 
 "Do you know what I would do if I was her, 
 M seur?" he said in a low voice, and yet one filled 
 with a threat which stilled the words of passion 
 which the engineer was on the point of uttering. 
 "Do you know what I would do? I would kill 
 you kill you inch by inch torture y:"i, That 
 is what I would do." 
 
 "For God s sake, Croisset, tell me why- 
 why " 
 
 Croisset had found Rowland s pistol and f reecf 
 his hands, and the engineer stretched them oif 
 entreatingly. 
 
 "I would give my life for that girl, Croissefl 
 C told her so back there, and she came to me wheJV 
 155
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 I was in the snow and " He caught himself, 
 adding to what he had left incomplete. "There 
 is a mistake, Croisset. I am not the man they 
 want to kill!" 
 
 Croisset was smiling at him again. 
 
 "Smoke and think, M seur. It is impossible 
 for me to tell you why you should be dead but 
 you ought to know, unless your memory is shorter 
 than a child s." 
 
 He went to the dogs, stirring them up with the 
 cracking of his whip, and when Rowland turned 
 to look back he saw a bright flare of light where 
 the other sledge had stopped. A man s voice came 
 from the farther gloom, calling to Croisset in 
 French. 
 
 "He tells me I am to take you on alone," said 
 Croisset, after he had replied to the words 
 spoken in a patois which Howland could not 
 understand. "They will join us again very 
 eoon." 
 
 "They!" exclaimed Howland. "How many 
 wiD it take to kill me, my dear Croisset?" 
 156
 
 * A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 The half-breed smiled down into his facf 
 again. 
 
 "You may thank the Blessed Virgin that they 
 are with us," he replied softly. "If you have any 
 hope outside of Heaven, M seur, it is on that 
 sledge behind." 
 
 As he went again to the dogs, straightening 
 the leader in his traces, Rowland stared back at 
 the firelit space in the forest gloom. He could see 
 a man adding fuel to the blaze, and beyond him, 
 shrouded in the deep shadows of the trees, an in 
 distinct tangle of dogs and sledge. As he 
 strained his eyes to discover more there was a 
 movement beyond the figure over the fire and the 
 young engineer s heart leaped with a sudden 
 thrill. Croisset s voice sounded in a shrill shout 
 behind him, and at that warning cry in French 
 the second figure sprang back into the gloom. 
 But Howland had recognized it, and the chilled 
 blood in his veins leaped into warm life again at 
 the knowledge that it was Meleese who was trail- 
 <.g behind them on the second sledge ! 
 157
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "When you yell like that give me a little warn 
 ing if you please, Jean," he said, speaking as 
 Coolly as though he had not recognized the figure 
 that had come for an instant into the firelight. 
 "It is enough to startle the life out of one !" 
 
 "It is our way of saying good-by, M seur," re 
 plied Croisset with a fierce snap of his whip.. 
 "Hoo-la, get along there !" he cried to the dogs, 
 and in half a dozen breaths the fire was lost to 
 view. 
 
 Dawn comes at about eight o clock in the 
 northern mid-winter; beyond the fiftieth degree 
 the first ruddy haze of the sun begins to warm 
 the southeastern skies at nine, and its glow had 
 already risen above the forests before Croisset 
 stopped his team again. For two hours he had 
 not spoken a word to his prisoner and after sev 
 eral unavailing efforts to break the other s taci- 
 urnity Howland lapsed into a silence of his own. 
 When he had brought his tired dogs to a halt, 
 Croisset spoke for the first time. 
 
 "We are going to camp here for a f tsi hours," 
 158
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 he explained. "If you will pledge me your word 
 of honor that you will make no attempt to escape 
 I will give you the use of your legs until aftef 
 breakfast, M seur. What do you say ?" 
 
 "Have you a Bible, Croisset?" 
 
 "No, M seur, but I have the cross of our Vir< 
 gin, given to me by the missioner at York Fac 
 tory." 
 
 "Then I will swear by it I will swear by all 
 the crosses and all the Bibles in the world that I 
 will make no effort to escape. I am paralyzed, 
 Croisset ! I couldn t run for a week !" 
 
 Croisset was searching in his pockets. 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" he cried excitedly, "I have lost 
 it! Ah, come to think, M seur, I gave the cross 
 to my Mariane before I went into the South* 
 But I will take your word." 
 
 "And who is Mariane, Jean? Will she also be 
 in at the kill? " 
 
 "Mariane is my wife, M seur. Ah, ma belU 
 Mariane ma cheri the daughter of an Indian 
 princess and the granddaughter of a chef de 
 159
 
 bata dlon, M seur! Could there be better than 
 that? And she is be-e-e-utiful, M seur, with hair 
 like the top side of a raven s wing with the sun 
 shining on it, and " 
 
 "You love her a great deal, Jean." 
 
 "Next to the Virgin and it may be a little 
 better." 
 
 Croisset had severed the rope about the en 
 gineer s legs, and as he raised his glowing eyes 
 Rowland reached out and put both hands on 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "And in just that way I love Meleese," he said 
 softly. "Jean, won t you be my friend? I don t 
 want to escape. I m not a coward. Won t you 
 think of what your Mariane might do, and be a 
 friend to me? You would die for Mariane if it 
 were necessary. And I would die for the girl 
 back on that sledge. ;> 
 
 He had staggered to his feet, and pointed into 
 ,tlie forests through which they had come. 
 
 "I saw her in the firelight, Jean. Why is she 
 following us? Why do they want to kill me? If 
 160
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 you would only give me a chance to prove that it 
 "s all a mistake that I " 
 
 Croisset reached out and took his hand. 
 
 "M seur, I would like to help you," he inter 
 rupted. "I liked you that night we came in to 
 gether from the fight on the trail. I have liked 
 you since. And yet, if I was in their place, I 
 would kill you even though I like you. It is a 
 great duty to kill you. They did not do wrong 
 when they tied you in the coyote. They did not 
 do wrong when they tried to kill you on the trail. 
 But i Aave taken a solemn oath to tell you noth 
 ing; nothing beyond this that so long as you 
 are with me, and that sledge is behind us, your 
 life is not in danger. I will tell you nothing 
 more. Are you hungry, M seur?" 
 
 "Starved!" said Rowland. 
 
 He stumbled a few steps out into the snow, the 
 Dumbness in his limbs forcing him to catch at 
 frees and saplings to save himself from falling. 
 He was astonished at Croisset s words and more 
 confused than ever at the half-breed s assurance 
 161
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 that hw life was no longer in immediate peril. 
 To him this meant that Meleese had not only 
 warned him but was now playing an active part 
 in preserving his life, and this conclusion addet* 
 to his perplexity. Who was this girl who a few 
 hours before had deliberately lured him among 
 his enemies and who was now fighting to save 
 him? The question held a deeper significance for 
 him than when he had asked himself this same 
 thing at Prince Albert, and when Croisset called 
 for him to return to the camp-fire and breakfast 
 he touched once more the forbidden subject. 
 
 "Jean, I don t want to hurt your feelings," he 
 said, seating himself on the sledge, "but I ve got 
 to get a few things out of my system. I believe 
 this Meleese of yours is a bad woman." 
 
 Like a flash Croisset struck at the bait which 
 Rowland threw out to him. He leaned a little 
 forward, a hand quivering on his knife, his eyes 
 flashing fire. Involuntarily the engineer recoiled 
 from that animal-like crouch, from the blacls 
 rage which was growing each instant in the half-* 
 162
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 breed s face. Yet Croisset spoke softly and with 
 out excitement, even while his shoulders and 
 arms were twitching like a forest cat about tc 
 spring. 
 
 "M seur, no one in the world must say that 
 about my Mariane, and next to her they must not 
 say it about Meleese. Up there " and he point 
 ed still farther into the north "I know of a 
 hundred men between the Athabasca and the bay 
 who would kill you for what you have said. And 
 it is not for Jean Croisset to listen to it here. I 
 will kill you unless you take it back !" 
 
 "God !" breathed Howland. He looked straight 
 into Croisset s face. "I m glad it s so Jean," 
 he added slowly. "Don t you understand, man? 
 I love her. I didn t mean what I said. I would 
 kill for her, too, Jean. I said that to find out 
 what you would do " 
 
 Slowly Croisset relaxed, a faint smile curling 
 his thin lips. 
 
 "If it was a joke, M seur, it was a bad one." 
 
 "It wasn t a joke," cried Howland. "It was a 
 163
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 serious effort to make you tell me something 
 about Meleese. Listen, Jean she told me back 
 there that it was not wrong for me to love her. 
 and when I lay bound and gagged in the snow 
 she came to me and and kissed me. I don t un 
 derstand- " 
 
 Croisset interrupted him. 
 
 "Did she do that, M seur?" 
 
 "I swear it." 
 
 "Then you are fortunate," smiled Jean softly, 
 "for I will stake my hope in the blessed here 
 after that she has never done that to another 
 man, M seur. But it will never happen again." 
 
 "I believe that it will unless you kill me." 
 
 "And I shall not hesitate to kill you if I think 
 that it is likely to happen again. There are 
 others who would kill you knowing that it has 
 happened but once. But you must stop this talk, 
 M seur. If you persist I shall put the rawhide 
 over your mouth again." 
 
 "And if I object fight?" 
 
 "You have given me your word of honor. Up 
 164
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 here in the big snows the keeping of that wwrd 
 is our first law. If you break it I will kill you." 
 
 Good Lord, but you re a cheerful compan- 
 on," exclaimed Rowland, laughing in spite of 
 Aimself. "Do you know, Croisset, this whole situ 
 ation has a good deal of humor as well as trag 
 edy about it. I must be a most important cuss, 
 whoever I am. Ask me who I am, Croisset?" 
 
 "And who are you, M seur?* 
 
 "I don t know, Jean. Fact, I don t. I used to 
 think that I was a most ambitious young cub in 
 a big engineering establishment down in Chi 
 cago. But I guess I was dreaming. Funny 
 dream, wasn t it? Thought I came up here to 
 build a road somewhere through these infernal 
 no, I mean these beautiful snows but my mind 
 must have been wandering again. Ever heat of 
 an insane asylum, Croisset? Am I in a big stone 
 building with iron bars at the windows, and are 
 you my keeper, just come in to amuse me for a 
 time ? It s kind of you, Croisset, and I hope thav 
 some day I shall get my mind back so that I car 
 165
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 fihank you decently. Perhaps you ll go mad some 
 day, Jean, and dream about pretty girls, and 
 railroads, and forests, and snows and then IT 
 oe youi keeper. Have a cigar? I ve got just two 
 left." 
 
 "Mm J)ieu!" gasped Jean. "Yes, I will 
 smoke, IVPeeur. Is that moose steak good?" 
 
 "Fine. 1 haven t eaten a mouthful since years 
 ago, when I dreamed that I sat on a case of 
 dynamite just about to blow up. Did you ever 
 5it on a case of dynamite just about to blow up, 
 Jean?" 
 
 "No, M seur. It must be unpleasant." 
 
 "That dream was what turned my hair white, 
 Jean. See how white it is whiter than the 
 snow P* 
 
 Croisset looked at him a little anxiously as he 
 ate his meat, and at the gathering unrest in his 
 Byes Rowland burst into a laugh. 
 
 "Don t be frightened, Jean," he spoke sootft 
 ingly. "I m harmless. But I promise you that 
 111 become violent unless something reasonable 
 166
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 occurs pretty soon. Hello, are you going to start 
 ?o soon?" 
 
 "Right away, M seur," said Croisset, who was 
 Stirring up the dogs. "Will you walk and run 9 
 ar ride?" 
 
 "Walk and run, with your permission." 
 
 "You have it, M seur, but if you attempt to 
 escape I must shoot you. Run on the right of 
 the dogs even with me. I will take this slide." 
 
 Until Croisset stopped again in the middle of 
 the afternoon Howland watched the backward 
 trail for the appearance of the second sledge, but 
 there was no sign of it. Once he ventured to 
 bring up the subject to Croisset, who did no 
 more than reply .vith a hunch of his shoulders 
 and a quick look which warned the engineer to 
 keep his silence. After their second meal the 
 jjjourney was resumed, and by referring occasion 
 ally to his compass Howland observed that the 
 irail Tvas swinging gradually to the eastward 
 Long before dusk exhaustion compelled him to 
 ride once more on the sledge. Croisset seemed 
 167
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 ureless, and under the early glow of the star* 
 and iha red moon he still led on the worn pad? 
 antil at tast it stopped on the summit of a moun 
 tainous ridge, with a vast plain stretching into 
 the north as far as the eyes could see through the 
 white gloom. The half-breed came back to where 
 Howland was seated on the sledge. 
 
 "We are going but a little farther, M^ seur,* 4 
 he said. "I must replace the rawhide over you. 
 mouth and the thongs about your wrists I aro 
 sorry but I will leave your legs free." 
 
 "Thanks," said Howland. "But, really, it is 
 unnecessary. Croisset. I am properly subdued to 
 the fact that fate is determined to play out this 
 interesting game of ball with me, and no longer 
 knowing where I am, I promise you to do nothing 
 more exciting thaii smoke my pipe if you wfl) 
 allow me to go along peaceably at you* side.* 
 
 Croisset hesitated. 
 
 "You will not attempt to escape &o*d! 
 *iold your tongue? * he asked 
 
 "Yet.* 
 
 168
 
 A RACE INTO THE NORTH 
 
 Jean drew forth his revolver and deliberately 
 cocked it. 
 
 "Bear in mind, M seur, that I will kill you if 
 you break your word. You may go ahead." 
 
 And he pointed down the side of the mountair
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 HALF-WAY down the ridge a low word 
 from Croisset stopped tha engineer. Jean 
 had toggled his team with a stout length of 
 babeesh on the mountain top and he was looking 
 back when Rowland turned toward him. The 
 sharp edge of that part of the mountain from 
 which they were descending stood out in a clear- 
 cut line against the sky, and on this edge the six 
 dogs of the team sat squat on their haunches, 
 silent and motionless, like strangely carved gar 
 goyles placed there to guard the limitless plains 
 below. Howland took his pipe from his mouth 
 Is he watched the staring interest of Croisset. 
 
 om the man he looked up again at the dogs. 
 
 here was something in their sphynx-like atti- 
 hide, in the moveless reaching of their muzzles 
 **n* into the wonderful starlit mystery of the stili 
 170
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 night that filled him with an indefinable sense of 
 awe. Then there came to his ears the sound that 
 had stopped Croisset a low, moaning whin* 
 which seemed to have neither beginning nor end, 
 but which was borne in on his senses as though 
 it were a part of the soft movement of the air 
 he breathed a note of infinite sadness which held 
 him startled and without movement, as it held 
 Jean Croisset. And just as he thought that the 
 thing had died away, the wailing came again, 
 rising higher and higher, until at last there rose 
 over him a single long howl that chilled the blood 
 to his very marrow. It was like the wolf-howl of 
 that first night he had looked on the wilderness, 
 and yet unlike it ; in the first it had been the cry 
 of the savage, of hunger, of the unending deso* 
 lation of life that had thrilled him. In this it 
 was death. He stood shivering as Croisset came 
 down to him, his thin face shining white in the 
 starlight. There was no other sound save the 
 excited beating of life in their own bodies wher 
 Jean spoke. 
 
 171
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "M seur, our dogs howl like that only when 
 some one is dead or about to die," he whispered. 
 ;< It was Woonga who gave the cry. He has lived 
 for eleven years and I have never known him to 
 fail." 
 
 There was an uneasy gleam in his eyes. 
 
 "I must tie your hands, M seur." 
 
 "But I have given you my word, Jean " 
 
 "Your hands, M seur. There is already death 
 below us in the plain, or it is to come very soon. 
 I must tie your hands." 
 
 Rowland thrust his wrists behind him and 
 about them Jean twisted a thong of babeesh. 
 
 "I believe I understand," he spoke softly, lis 
 tening again for the chilling wail from the moun 
 tain top. "You are afraid that I will kill you." 
 
 "It is a warning, M seur. You might try. 
 But I should probably kill you. As it is " he 
 shrugged his shoulders as he led the way down 
 the ridge "as it is, there is small chance of 
 Jean Croisset answering the call." 
 
 "May those saints of yours preserve raw, Jemc. 
 172
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 but this is all very cheerful !" grunted Rowland, 
 half laughing in spite of himself. "Now that I m 
 tied up again, who the devil is there to die but 
 me?" 
 
 "That is a hard question, M seur," replied the 
 half-breed with grim seriousness. "Perhaps it is 
 your turn. I half believe that it is." 
 
 Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when 
 there came again the moaning howl from the 
 top of the ridge. 
 
 "You re getting on my nerves, Jean you and 
 that accursed dog!" 
 
 "Silence, M seur!" 
 
 Out of the grim loneliness at the foot of the 
 mountain there loomed a shadow which at first 
 Rowland took to be a huge mass of rock. A few 
 steps farther and he saw that it was a building. 
 Croisset gripped him firmly by the arm. 
 
 "Stay here," he commanded. "I will returr 
 soon." 
 
 For a quarter of an hour Howland waited. 
 Twice in that interval the dog howled above him. 
 173
 
 DANGER TRAIL 
 
 He was glad when Croisset appeared out of the 
 gloom. 
 
 "It is as I thought, M seur. There is death 
 $own here. Come with me !" 
 
 The shadow of the big building shrouded them 
 as they approached. Howland could make out 
 that it was built of massive logs and that there 
 seemed to be neither door nor window on their 
 side. And yet when Jean hesitated for an instant 
 before a blotch of gloom that was deeper than 
 the others, he knew that they had come to an en 
 trance. Croisset advanced softly, sniffing the air 
 suspiciously with his thin nostrils, and listening, 
 with Howland so close to him that their shoul 
 ders touched. From the top of the mountain 
 there came again the mournful death-song of old 
 Woonga, and Jean shivered. Howland stared 
 into the blotch of gloom, and still staring he fol 
 lowed Croisset entered and disappeared in 
 it. About them was the stillness and the damp 
 smell of desertion. There was no visible sign of 
 life, no breathing, no movement but their own, 
 174
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 and yet Howland could feel the half-breed s hand 
 clutch him nervously by the arm as they went 
 step by step into the black and silent mystery of 
 the place. Soon there came a fumbling of Crois- 
 set s hand at a latch and they passed through a 
 second door. Then Jean struck a match. 
 
 Half a dozen steps away was a table and on 
 the table a lamp. Croisset lighted it, and with a 
 quiet laugh faced the engineer. They were in a 
 low, dungeon-like chamber, without a window 
 and with but the one door through which they 
 had entered. The table, two chairs, a stove and 
 a bunk built against one of the log walls were all 
 that Howland could see. But it was not the bar 
 renness of what he imagined was to be his new 
 prison that held his eyes in staring inquiry on 
 Croisset. It was the look in his companion s 
 face, the yellow pallor of fear a horror that 
 had taken possession of it. The half-breed closed 
 and bolted the door, and then sat down beside the 
 table, his thin face peering up through the sickly! 
 lamp-glow at the engineer. 
 175
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 * M seur, it would be hard for you to guess 
 where you are." 
 
 Rowland waited. 
 
 "If you had lived in this country long, 
 M seur, you would have heard of la Maison de 
 Mort Rouge the House of the Red Death, as 
 you would call it. That is where we are in the 
 dungeon room. It is a Hudson Bay post, aban 
 doned almost since I can remember. When I was 
 a child the smallpox plague came this way and 
 killed all the people. Nineteen years ago the red 
 plague came again, and not one lived through it 
 in this Paste de Mort Rouge. Since then it has 
 been left to the weasels and the owls. It is 
 shunned by every living soul between the Atha 
 basca and the bay. That is why you are safe 
 here." 
 
 "Ye gods !" breathed Howland. "Is there any 
 thing more, Croisset? Safe from what, manr 
 Safe from what?" 
 
 "From those who wish to kill you, M seur. 
 You would not go into the South, so la belle
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED 
 
 Meleese has compelled you to go into the K orth, 
 Comprenez-vous f " 
 
 For a moment Howland sat as if stunned. 
 
 "Do you understand, M seur?" persisted 
 
 Croisset, smiling. 
 
 "I I think I do," replied Howland tensely r 
 "You mean Meleese " 
 
 Jean took the words from him. 
 
 "I mean that you would have died last night, 
 M seur, had it not been for Meleese. You es 
 caped from the coyote but you would not have 
 escaped from the other. That is all I can tell 
 you. But you will be safe here. Those who seek 
 your life will soon believe that you are dead, and 
 then we will let you go back. Is that not a kind 
 fate for one who deserves to be cut into bits and 
 fed to the ravens ?" 
 
 "You will tell me nothing more, Jean?" the en 
 gineer asked. 
 
 "Nothing except that while I would like to 
 kill you I have sympathy for you. That, per 
 haps, is because I once lived in the South. Fee 
 177
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 six years I was with the company in Montreal, 
 where I went to school." 
 
 He rose to his feet, tying the flap of his cari 
 bou skin coat about his throat. Then he unboltet 
 and opened the door. Faintly there came to 
 them, as if from a great distance, the wailing 
 grief of Woonga, the dog. 
 
 "You said there was death here," whispereu 
 Howland, leaning close to his shoulder. 
 
 "There is one who has lived here since the last 
 plague," replied Croisset under his breath. "He 
 lost his wife and children and it drove him mad. 
 That is why we came down so quietly. He lived 
 in a little cabin out there on the edge of the clear 
 ing, and when I went to it to-night there was a 
 sapling over the house with a flag at the end of 
 it. When the plague comes to us we hang out a 
 red flag as a warning to others. That is one of 
 jur laws. The flag is blown to tatters by tl* 
 winds. He is dead." 
 
 Howland shuddered. 
 
 "Of the smallpox?" 
 
 17*
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 For a few moments they stood in silence. Then 
 2roisset added, "You will remain here, M seur, 
 .until I return." 
 
 He went out, closing and barring the door 
 from the other side, and Howland seated himself 
 again in the chair beside the table. Fifteen min 
 utes later the half-breed returned, bearing with 
 him a good-sized pack and a two-gallon jug. 
 
 "There is wood back of the stove, M seur. 
 Here is food and water for a week, and furs for 
 your bed. Now I will cut those thongs about your 
 wrists." 
 
 "Do you mean to say you re going to leave me 
 here alone in this wretched prison ?" cried How- 
 land. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, is it not better than a grave, 
 M seur? I will be back at the end of a week." 
 
 The door was partly open and for the last time 
 there came to Rowland s ears the mourning how] 
 of the old dog on the mountain top. Almost 
 threateningly he gripped Croisset s arm. 
 179
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "Jean if you don t come back what will 
 happen?" 
 
 He heard the half-breed chuckling. 
 
 "You will die, M seur, pleasantly and taking 
 your own time at it, which is much better thar 
 dying over a case of dynamite. But I will comt 
 back, M seur. Good-by !" 
 
 Again the door was closed and bolted and the 
 sound of Croisset s footsteps quickly died away 
 beyond the log walls. Many minutes passed be 
 fore Rowland thought of his pipe, or a fire. 
 Then, shiveringly, he went to seek the fuel which 
 Jean had told him was behind the stove. The old 
 bay stove was soon roaring with the fire which he 
 built, and as the soothing fumes of his pipe im 
 pregnated the damp air of the room he experi 
 enced a sensation of comfort which was in 
 strange contrast to the exciting happenings of 
 the past few days. 
 
 At last he was alone, with nothing to do for a 
 week but eat, sleep and smoke. He had plenty 
 of tobacco and an inspection of the pack show*"3 
 180
 
 THE HOUSE OP THE RED DEATH 
 
 that Croisset had left him well stocked with food. 
 Tilted back in a chair, with his feet on the table, 
 he absorbed the cheerful heat from the stove, sent 
 up clouds of smoke, and wondered if the half- 
 breed had already started back into the South. 
 What would MacDonald say when Jackpine came 
 in with the report that he had slipped to his death 
 in the waterfall? Probably his first move would 
 be to send the most powerful team on the We- 
 kusko in pursuit of Gregson and Thorne. The 
 departing engineers would be compelled to re 
 turn, and then 
 
 He laughed aloud and began pacing back and 
 forth across the rotted floor of his prison as he 
 pictured the consternation of the two seniors. 
 And then a flush burned in his face and his eyes 
 glowed as he thought of Meleese. In spite of 
 himself she had saved him from his enemies, and 
 he blessed Croisset for having told him the mean 
 ing of this flight into the North. Once again she 
 had betrayed him, but this time it was to save his 
 life, and his heart leaped in joyous faith at thi* 
 181
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 proof of her love for him. He believed thai, lie 
 understood the whole scheme now. Even his 
 3nemies would think him dead. They would leav* 
 the Wekusko and after a time, when it was saft 
 for him to return, he would be given his f reedom< 
 
 With the passing of the hours gloomiei 
 thoughts shadowed these anticipations. In some 
 mysterious way Meleese was closely associated 
 with those who sought his life, and if they disap 
 peared she would disappear with them. He was 
 convinced of that. And then could he find her 
 again ? Would she go into the South to civiliza 
 tion or deeper into the untraveled wildernesses 
 of the North? In answer to his question there 
 flashed through his mind the words of Jean 
 Croisset : "M seur, I know of a hundred men be 
 tween Athabasca and the bay who would kill you 
 for what you have said." Yes, she would go into 
 the North. Somewhere in that vast desolation oQ 
 which Jean had spoken he would find her, even 
 though he spent half of his life in the search ! 
 
 It was past midnight when he spread out th 
 182
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 furs and undressed for bed. He opened the stove 
 door and from the bunk watched the faint flicker- 
 ings of the dying firelight on the log walls. As 
 slumber closed his eyes he was conscious of a 
 sound the faint, hungerful, wailing cry to 
 which he had listened that first night near Prince 
 Albert. It was a wolf, and drowsily he wondered 
 how he could hear the cry through the thick log 
 walls of his prison. The answer came to him the 
 moment he opened his eyes, hours later. A bit of 
 pale sunlight was falling into the room and he 
 saw that it entered through a narrow aperture 
 close up to the ceiling. After he had prepared 
 his breakfast he dragged the table under this 
 aperture and by standing on it was enabled to 
 peer through. A hundred yards away was the 
 black edge of the spruce and balsam forest. Be 
 tween him and the forest, half smothered in the 
 deep snow, was a cabin, and he shuddered as he 
 Saw floating over it the little red signal of death 
 of which Croisset had told him the night before. 
 With the breaking of this day the hours 
 183
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 seemed of interminable length. For a time he 
 amused himself by searching every corner and 
 :revice of his prison room, but he found nothing 
 of interest beyond what he had already discov 
 ered. He examined the door which Croisset had 
 barred on him, and gave up all hope of escape 
 in that direction. He could barely thrust his 
 arm through the aperture that opened out on 
 the plague-stricken cabin. For the first time 
 since the stirring beginning of his adventures at 
 Prince Albert a sickening sense of his own im- 
 potency began to weigh on Howland. He was a 
 prisoner penned up in a desolate room in the 
 heart of a wilderness. And he, Jack Howland, 
 a man who had always taken pride in his physical 
 prowess, had allowed one man to place him there. 
 His blood began to boil as he thought of it. I DW, 
 as he had time and silence in which to look back 
 :>n what had happened, he was enraged at the 
 pictures that flashed one after another before 
 him. He had allowed himself to be used as noth 
 ing more than a pawn in a strange and mysteri- 
 184
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 ous game. It was not through his efforts alone 
 that he had been saved in the fight on the Sas 
 katchewan trail. Blindly he had walked into tht 
 trap at the coyote. Still more blindly he had 
 allowed himself to be led into the ambush at the 
 Wekusko camp. And more like a child than a 
 man he had submitted himself to Jean Croisset ! 
 
 He stamped back and forth across the room, 
 smoking viciously, and his face grew red with 
 the thoughts that were stirring venom within 
 him. He placed no weight on circumstances ; in 
 these moments he found no excuse for himself. 
 In no situation had he displayed the white 
 feather, at no time had he felt a thrill of fear. 
 His courage and recklessness had terrified 
 Meleese, had astonished Croisset. And yet what 
 had he done? From the beginning from the 
 moment he first placed his foot in the Chinese 
 cafe his enemies had held the whip-hand. He 
 had been compelled to play a passive part, Upf 
 to the point of the ambush on the Wekusko trail 
 he might have found some vindication for him-
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 But this experience with Jean Croisset it 
 was enough to madden him, now that he was 
 Alone, to think about it. Why had he not taken 
 advantage of Jean, as Jackpine and the French 
 man had taken advantage of him ? 
 
 He saw now what he might have done. Some 
 where, not very far back, the sledge carrying 
 Meleese and Jackpine had turned into the un 
 known. They two were alone. Why had he not 
 made Croisset a prisoner, instead of allowing 
 himself to be caged up like a weakling? He swore 
 aloud as there dawned on him more and more a 
 realization of the opportunity he had lost. At 
 the point of a gun he could have forced Croisset 
 to overtake the other sledge. He could have sur 
 prised Jackpine, as they had surprised him on 
 the trail. And then ? He smiled, but there was no 
 humor in the smile. He at least would have held 
 the whip-hand. And what would Meleese have 
 done ? 
 
 He asked himself question after question, an 
 swering them quickly and decisively in the same 
 186
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 breath. Meleese loved him. He wouF have 
 staked his life on that. His blood leaped as he 
 felt again the thrill of her kisses when she had 
 come to him as he lay bound and gagged beside 
 the trail. She had taken his head in her arms, 
 and through the grief of her face he had seen 
 shining the light of a great love that had glorified 
 it for ail time for him. She loved him ! And he 
 had let her slip away from him, had weakly sur 
 rendered himself at a moment when everything 
 that he had dreamed of might have been within 
 his grasp. With Jackpine and Croisset in his 
 power 
 
 He went no further. Was it too late to do 
 these things now? Croisset would return. With 
 a sort of satisfaction it occurred to him that his 
 actions had disarmed the Frenchman of sus 
 picion. He believed that it would be easy to over 
 come Croisset, to force him to follow in the trail 
 of Meleese and Jackpine. And that trail? It 
 would probably lead to the very stronghold of 
 his enemies. But what of that? He loaded hi? 
 187
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 pipe again, puffing out clouds of smoke until the 
 room was thick with it. That trail would take 
 him to Meleese wherever she was. Heretofore 
 his enemies had come to him ; now he would go to 
 them. With Croisset in his power, and with none 
 of his enemies aware of his presence, everything 
 would be in his favor. He laughed aloud as a 
 sudden thrilling thought flashed into his mind. 
 As a last resort he would use Jean as a decoy. 
 He foresaw how easy it would be to bring Me 
 leese to him to see Croisset. His own presence 
 would be like the dropping of a bomb at her feet. 
 In that moment, when she saw what he was risk 
 ing for her, that he was determined to possess 
 her, would she not surrender to the pleading of 
 his love? If not he would do the other thing 
 that which had brought the joyous laugh to his 
 lips. All was fair in war and love, and theirs was 
 a game of love. Because of her love for him Me- 
 ieese had kidnapped him from his post of duty. 
 hacJ sent him a prisoner to this death-house in 
 the wilderness. Love had exculpated her. The* 
 188
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 same love would exculpate him. He would makt 
 her a prisoner, and Jean should drive them back 
 io the Wekusko. Meleese herself had set the 
 pace and he would follow it. And what woman s 
 if she loved a man, would not surrender after 
 this? In their sledge trip he would have her to 
 himself, for not only an hour or two, but for 
 days. Surely in that time he could win. There 
 would be pursuit, perhaps; he might have to 
 fight but he was willing, and a trifle anxious, 
 to fight. 
 
 He went to bed that night, and dreamed of 
 things that were to happen. A second day, a 
 third night, and a third day came. With each 
 hour grew his anxiety for Jean s return. At 
 times he was almost feverish to have the affair 
 over with. He was confident of the outcome, and 
 yet he did not fail to take the Frenchman s true 
 measurement. He knew that Jean was like live 
 wire and steel, as agile as a cat, more than a 
 match with himself in open fight despite his ownf 
 superior weight and size. He devised a dozen < 
 189
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 schemes for Jean s undoing. One was tc leap on 
 him while he was eating; another to spring on 
 him and choke him into partial insensibility as 
 he knelt beside his pack or fed the fire; a third 
 to strike a blow from behind that would render 
 kim powerless. But there was something in this 
 last that was repugnant to him. He remembered 
 that Jean had saved his life, that in no instance 
 had he given him physical pain. He would watch 
 for an opportunity, take advantage of the 
 Frenchman, as Croisset had taken advantage of 
 him, but he would not hurt him seriously. It 
 should be as fair a struggle as Jean had offered 
 him, and with the handicap in his favor the best 
 man would win. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day Howland 
 was awakened by a sound that came through the 
 aperture in the wall. It was the sharp yelping 
 bark of a dog, followed an instant later by the 
 sharper crack of a whip, and a familiar voice. 
 
 Jean Croisset had returned ! 
 
 With a single leap he was out of hi* bunk, 
 190
 
 HOUSE OF THE RED DEATH 
 
 Half dressed he darted to the door, and crouched 
 there, the muscles of his arms tightening, his 
 body tense with the gathering forces within him 
 The spur of the moment had driven him to 
 quick decision. His opportunity would come 
 when Jean Cruisset Tossed through that door ! 
 
 191
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 BEYOND the door Rowland heard Jean 
 pause. There followed a few moments si 
 lence, as though the other were listening for 
 sound within. Then there came a fumbling at the 
 bar and the door swung inward. 
 
 "Bon jour, M seur," called Jean s cheerful 
 voice as he stepped inside. "Is it possible you 
 are not up, with all this dog-barking and " 
 
 His eyes had gone to the empty bunk. Despite 
 his cheerful greeting Rowland saw that the 
 Frenchman s face was haggard and pale as he 
 turned quickly toward him. He observed no fur 
 ther than that, but flung his whole weight on the 
 unprepared Croisset, and together they crashed 
 to the floor. There was scarce a struggle and 
 Jean lay still. He was flat on his back, his arms 
 pinioned to his sides, and bringing himself 
 192
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 astride the Frenchman s body so that each knee 
 imprisoned an arm Howland coolly began loop 
 ing the babeesh thongs that he had snatched 
 from the table as he sprang to the door. Behind 
 Howland s back Jean s legs shot suddenly up 
 ward. In a quick choking clutch of steel-like 
 muscle they gripped about his neck like power 
 ful arms and in another instant he was twisted 
 backward with a force that sent him half neck- 
 broken to the opposite wall. He staggered to his 
 feet, dazed for a moment, and Jean Croisset stood 
 in the middle of the floor, his caribou skin coat 
 thrown off, his hands clenched, his eyes darken 
 ing w th a dangerous fire. As quickly as it had 
 eome, the fire died away, and as he advanced 
 slowly, his shoulders hunched over, his white 
 teeth gleamed in a smile. Howland smiled back, 
 md advanced to meet him. There was no humor, 
 AO friendliness in the smiles. Both had seen that 
 flash of teeth and deadly scintillation of eyes at 
 other times, both knew what it meant. 
 
 "I believe that I will kill you, M seur," said 
 193
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Jean softly. There was no excitement, no trem 
 ble of passion in his voice. "I have been think 
 ing that I ought to kill you. I had almost made 
 up my mind to kill you when I came back to this 
 Maison de Mort Rouge. It is the justice of Gor 
 that I kill you !" 
 
 The two men circled, like beasts in a pit, How- 
 land in the attitude of a boxer, Jean with his 
 shoulders bent, his arms slightly curved at his 
 side, the toes of his moccasined feet bearing his 
 weight. Suddenly he launched himself at the oth 
 er s throat. 
 
 In a flash Howland stepped a little to one side 
 and shot out a crashing blow that caught Jean 
 on the side of the head and sent him flat on his 
 back. Half-stunned Croisset came to his feet. 
 It was the first time that he had ever come into 
 contact with science. He was puzzled. His head 
 rang, and for a few moments he was dizzy. Ht 
 darted in again, in his old, quick, cat-like way, 
 and received a blow that dazed him. This time 
 he kept his feet. 
 
 194
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 "i am sure now that I am going to kill you, 
 TM seur," he said, as coolly as before. 
 
 There was something terribly calm and deci- 
 jive in his voice. He was not excited. He was 
 Hot afraid. His fingers did not go near the 
 weapons in his belt, and slowly the smile faded 
 from Howland s lips as Jean circled about him. 
 He had never fought a man of this kind ; never 
 had he looked on the appalling confidence that 
 was in his antagonist s eyes. From those eyes, 
 rather than from the man, he found himself slow 
 ly retreating. They followed him, never taking 
 themselves from his face. In them the fire re 
 turned and grew deeper. Two dull red spots be 
 gan to glow in Croisset s cheeks, and he laughed 
 softly when he suddenly leaped in so that How- 
 land struck at him and missed. He knew what 
 to expect now. And Rowland knew what to ex 
 pect. 
 
 It was the science of one world pitted against 
 that of another the science of civilization 
 against that of the wilderness. Howland was 
 195
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 trained in his art. For sport Jean had pkyed 
 with wounded lynx; his was the quickness of 
 sight, of instinct the quickness of the great 
 north loon that had often played this same game 
 with his rifle-fire, of the sledge-dog whose rip 
 ping fangs carried death so quickly that eyes 
 could not follow. A thira and a fourth time he 
 came within distance and Rowland struck and 
 missed. 
 
 "I am going to kill you," he said again. 
 
 To this point Howland had remained cool. 
 Self-possession in his science he knew to be half 
 the battle. But he felt in him now a slow, swell 
 ing anger. The smiling flash in Jean s eyes 
 began to irritate him; the fearless, taunting 
 gleam of his teeth, his audacious confidence, put 
 him on edge. Twice again he struck out swiftly, 
 but Jean had come and gone like a dart. His 
 lithe body, fifty pounds lighter than Howland sj 
 seemed to be that of a boy dodging him in some 
 tantalizing sport. The Frenchman made no ef 
 fort at attack ; his were the tactics of the wolf 
 196
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 at the heels of the bull moose, of the lynx before 
 the prongs of a cornered buck tiring, worrying, 
 ceaseless. 
 
 Rowland s striking muscles began tc ache and 
 his breath was growing shorter with the exertions 
 which seemed to have no effect on Croisset. For 
 a few moments he took the aggressive, rushing 
 Jean to the stove, behind the table, twice around 
 the room striving vainly to drive him into a 
 corner, to reach him with one of the sweeping 
 blows which Croisset evaded with the lightning 
 quickness of a hell-diver. When he stopped, his 
 breath came in wind-broken gasps. Jean drew 
 nearer, smiling, ferociously cool. 
 
 "I am going to kill you, M seur," he repeated 
 again. 
 
 Rowland dropped his arms, his fingers relaxed, 
 and he forced his breath between his lips as if 
 he were on the point of exhaustion. There were 
 Btill a few tricks in his science, and these, he 
 knew, were about his last cards. He backed into 
 a corner, and Jean followed, his eyes flashing a 
 197
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 steely light, his body growing more and more 
 tense. 
 
 "Now, M seur, I am going to kill you," he said 
 in the same low voice. "I am going to break your 
 neck." 
 
 Rowland backed against the wall, partly 
 turned as if fearing the other s attack, and yet 
 without strength to repel it. There was a con 
 temptuous smile on Croisset s lips as he poised 
 himself for an instant. Then he leaped in, and 
 as his fingers gripped at the other s throat How- 
 land s right arm shot upward in a deadly short- 
 arm punch that caught his antagonist under the 
 jaw. Without a sound Jean staggered back, tot 
 tered for a moment on his feet, and fell to the 
 floor. Fifty seconds later he opened his eyes to 
 find his hands bound behind his back and How- 
 land standing at his feet. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, but that was a good one!" he 
 gasped, after he had taken a long breath or two, 
 "Will you teach it to me, M seur?" 
 
 "Get up!" commanded Howland. "I have no 
 198
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 time to waste, Croisset." He caught the French^ 
 man by the shoulders and helped him to a chair 
 lear the table. Then he took possession of the 
 3ther s weapons, including the revolver which 
 Jean had taken from him, and began to dress. He 
 spoke no word until he was done. 
 
 "Do you understand what is going to happen, 
 Croisset?" he cried then, his eyes blazing hotly. 
 "Do you understand that what you have done will 
 put you behind prison bars for ten years or 
 more? Does it dawn on you that I m going to 
 take you back to the authorities, and that as soon 
 as we reach the Wekusko I ll have twenty men 
 back on the trail of these friends of yours ?" 
 
 A gray pallor spread itself over Jean s thin 
 face. 
 
 "The great God, M seur, you can not do 
 chat !" 
 
 "Can not!" Rowland s fingers dug into the 
 
 edge of the table. "By this great God of yours, 
 
 Croissot, but I will ! And why not? Is it because 
 
 Meleese is among this gang of cut-throats and 
 
 199
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 murderers? Pish, my dear Jean, you must be a 
 fool. They tried to kill me on the trail, tried it 
 again in the coyote, and you came back here de 
 termined to kill me. You ve held the whip-hand 
 from the first. Now it s mine. I swear that if 
 J take you back to the Wekusko we ll get you 
 dl" 
 
 7;, M seur?" 
 
 "And th*t if " Jean was straining against 
 the table. 
 
 "It rests vilh you, Croisset. I will bargain 
 with you. Eitkfc/ I shall take you back to the 
 Wekusko, hand 3 ou over to the authorities and 
 send a force aftev the others or you shall take 
 me to Meleese. Which shall it be ?" 
 
 "And if I take you to Meleese, M seur?" 
 
 Rowland straightened, his voice trembling A 
 little with excitement. 
 
 "If you take me to Melesse, and swear to do as 
 I say, I shall bring no lutrm to you or your 
 friends." 
 
 200
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 "And Meleese " Jean s eyes darkened again, 
 "You will not harm her, M seur ?" 
 
 "Harm her!" There was a laughing tremol 
 in Rowland s voice. "Good God, man, are you 
 so blind that you can t see that I am doing this 
 because of her? I tell you that I love her, and 
 that I am willing to die in fighting for her. Until 
 now I haven t had the chance. You and your 
 friends have played a cowardly underhand game, 
 Croisset. You have taken me from behind at 
 every move, and now it s up to you to square 
 yourself a little or there s going to be hell to 
 pay. Understand? You take me to Meleese or 
 there ll be a clean-up that will put you and the 
 whole bunch out of business. Harm her " Again 
 Rowland laughed, leaning his white face toward 
 Jean. "Come, which shall it be, Croisset?" 
 
 A cold glitter, like the snap of sparks froiB 
 striking steels, shot from the Frenchman s eyes* 
 The grayish pallor went from his face. His teeth 
 gleamed in the enigmatic smile that had ha if 
 undone Rowland in the fight. 
 201
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "You are mistaken in some things, M seur," He 
 said quietly. "Until to-day I have fought for 
 pou and not against you. But now you have left 
 Jie but one choice. I will take you to Meleese } and 
 that means " 
 
 "Good !" cried Rowland. 
 
 "La, la, M seur not so good as you think. It 
 means that as surely as the dogs carry us there 
 you will never come back. M on Dieu, your death 
 is certain !" 
 
 Howland turned briskly to the stove. 
 
 "Hungry, Jean?" he asked more companion- 
 ably. "Let s not quarrel, man. You ve had your 
 fun, and now I m going to have mine. Have you 
 had breakfast?" 
 
 "I was anticipating that pleasure with you, 
 M seur," replied Jean with grim humor. 
 
 "And then after I had fed you you were 
 going to kill me, my dear Jean," laughed How- 
 land, flopping a huge caribou steak on the naked 
 top of the sheet-iron stove. "Real nice fellow 
 you are, eh?" 
 
 202
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 "You ought to be killed, M seur." 
 
 "So you ve said before. When I see Melees* 
 I m going to know the reason why, or " 
 
 "Or what, M seur?" 
 
 "Kill you, Jean. I ve just about made up my 
 mind that you ought to be killed, if any one 
 dies up where we re going, Croisset, it will be you 
 first of all." 
 
 Jean remained siient. A few minutes later 
 Howland brought the caribou steak, a dish of 
 flour cakes and a big pot of coffee to the table. 
 Then he went behind Jean and untied his hands. 
 When he sat down at his own side of the table 
 he cocked his revolver and placed it beside his* 
 tin plate. Jean grimaced and shrugged his shoul 
 ders. 
 
 "It means business," said his captor warning- 
 ly. "If at any time I think you deserve it I shall 
 shoot you in your tracks, Croisset, so don*f 
 arouse my suspicions." 
 
 "I took your word of honor," said Jean sal 
 castically. 
 
 203
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 **And I will take yours to an extent," replied 
 Rowland, pouring the coffee. Suddenly he picked 
 ip the revolver. "You never saw me shoot, did 
 you? See that cup over there ?" He pointed to a 
 small tin pack-cup hanging to a nail on the wall 
 a dozen paces from them. Three times without 
 missing he drove bullets through it, and smiled 
 across at Croisset. 
 
 "I am going to give you the use of your arms 
 and legs, except at night," he said. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, it is safe," grunted Jean. "I give 
 you my word that I will be good, M seur." 
 
 The sun was up when Croisset led the way out 
 side. His dogs and sledge were a hundred yards 
 from the building, and Rowland s first move was 
 to take possession of the Frenchman s rifle and 
 eject the cartridges while Jean tossed chunks of 
 caribou flesh to the huskies. When they were 
 ready to start Jean turned slowly and half 
 reached out a mittened hand to the engineer. 
 
 "M seur," he said softly, "I can not help lik 
 ing you, though I know that I should have killed 
 204
 
 THE FIGHT 
 
 you Jong ago. I tell you again that if you go 
 into the North there is only one chance in a hun 
 dred that you will come back alive. Great God, 
 M seur, up where you wish to go the very trees 
 will fall on you and the carrion ravens pick 
 out your eyes ! And that chance that one chance 
 in a hundred, M seur " 
 
 "I will take," interrupted Howland decisively. 
 
 "I was going to say, M seur," finished Jean 
 quietly, "that unless accident has befallen those 
 who left Wekusko yesterday that one chance is 
 gone. If you go South you are safe. If you go 
 into the North you are no better than a dead 
 man." 
 
 "There will at least be a little fun at the fin 
 ish," laughed the young engineer. "Come, Jean, 
 hit up the dogs !" 
 
 "Mon Dieu, I say you are a fool and a brave 
 man," said Croisset, and his whip twisted sinu 
 ously in mid-air and cracked in sharp command 
 over the yellow backs of the huskies. 
 
 205
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 BEHIND the sledge ran Rowland, to the 
 right of the team ran Jean. Once or twice 
 when Croisset glanced back his eyes met those of 
 the engineer. He cracked his whip and smiled, 
 and Howland s teeth gleamed back coldly in re 
 ply. A mutual understanding flashed between 
 them in these glances. In a sudden spurt How- 
 land knew that the Frenchman could quickly put 
 distance between them but not a distance that 
 his bullets could not cover in the space of a 
 breath. He had made up his mind to fire, delib 
 erately and with his greatest skill, if Croisset 
 made the slightest movement toward escape. If 
 he was compelled to kill or wound his companion 
 he could still go on alone with the dogs, for the 
 trail f Meleese and Jackpine would be as plain 
 206
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 as their own, which they were following back into 
 the South. 
 
 For the second time since coming into th 
 North he felt the blood leaping through his veins 
 *s on that first night in Prince Albert when from 
 the mountain he had heard the lone wolf, and 
 when later he had seen the beautiful face through 
 the hotel window. Rowland was one of the few 
 men who possess unbounded confidence in them 
 selves, who place a certain pride in their physical 
 as well as their mental capabilities, and he was 
 confident now. His successful and indomitable 
 fight over obstacles in a big city had made this 
 confidence a genuine part of his being. It was a 
 confidence that flushed his face with joyous en 
 thusiasm as he ran after the dogs, and that 
 astonished and puzzled Jean Croisset. 
 
 "Mon Dieiiy but you are a strange man P* ex* 
 claimed the Frenchman when he brought th< 
 dogs down to a walk after a half mile run, 
 "Blessed saints, M seur, you are laughing an<* 
 I swear it is no laughing matter." 
 207
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 *Shouldn t a man be happy when he is going 
 to hif wedding, Jean?" puffed Howland, gasp 
 ing to get back the breath he had lost. 
 
 "But not when he s going to his funeral, 
 M seur." 
 
 "If I were one of your blessed saints I d hit 
 you over the head with a thunderbolt, Croisset. 
 Good Lord, what sort of a heart have you got 
 inside of your jacket, man? Up there where 
 we re going is the sweetest little girl in the whole 
 world. I love her. She loves me. Why shouldn t 
 I be happy, now that I know I m going to see 
 her again very soon and take her back into the 
 South with me?" 
 
 "The devil!" grunted Jean. 
 
 "Perhaps you re jealous, Croisset," suggested 
 Howland. "Great Scott, I hadn t thought of 
 thatr 
 
 "I ve got one of my own to love, M seur ; and 
 I wouldn t trade her for all else in the world." 
 
 "Damned if I can understand you," swore the 
 engineer. "You appear to be half human ; you 
 208
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 say you re in love, and yet you d rather risk 
 your life than help out Meleese and me. What 
 the deuce does it mean ?" 
 
 "That s what I m doing, M seur helping Me 
 leese. I would have done her a greater service if 
 I had killed you back there on the trail and 
 stripped your body for those things that would 
 be foul enough to eat it. I have told you a dozen 
 times that it is God s justice that you die, And 
 you are going to die very soon, M peur." 
 
 "No, I m not going to die, Jean. I m going to 
 see Meleese, and she s going back into the South 
 with me. And if you re real good you may have 
 the pleasure of driving us back to the Wekusko, 
 Croisset, and you can be my best man at the wed 
 ding. What do you say to that ?" 
 
 "That you are mad or a fool," retorted 
 Jean, cracking his whip viciously. 
 
 The dogs swung sharply from tht trail, head 
 ing from their southerly course into the north 
 west. 
 
 "We will save a day by doing this," explained 
 209
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Croisset at the other s sharp word of inquiry. 
 "We will hit tht< other trail twenty miles west of 
 here, while by following back to where they 
 turned we would travel sixty miles to reach thl 
 same point. That one chance in a hundred whicl 
 you have depends on this, M seur. T * the othei 
 sledge has passed " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and started the 
 dogs into a trot. 
 
 "Look here," cried Howland, running beside 
 him. "Who is with this other sledge?" 
 
 "Those who tried to kill you on the trail and 
 at the coyote, M seur " he answered quickly. 
 
 Howland fell half a dozen paces behind. By 
 the end of the first hour he was compelled to rest 
 frequently by taking to the sledge, and their 
 progress was much slower. Jean no longer made 
 answer to his occasional questions. Doggedly he 
 swung on ahead to the right and a little behinc 
 the team leader, and Howland could see that fot 
 some reason Croisset was as anxious as himself 
 to make the best time possible. His own impr 
 210
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 tience increased as the morning lengthened. 
 Jean s assurance that the mysterious enemies 
 who had twice attempted his life were only a 
 short distance behind them, or a short distance 
 ahead, set a new and desperate idea at work in 
 his brain. He was confident that these men from 
 the Wekusko were his chief menace, and that 
 with them once out of the way, and with the 
 Frenchman in his power, the fight which he was 
 carrying into the enemy s country would be half 
 won. There would then be no one to recognize 
 him but Meleese. 
 
 His heart leaped with joyous hope, and he 
 leaned forward on the sledge to examine Crois- 
 set s empty gun. It was an automatic, and Crois- 
 set, glancing back over the loping backs of the 
 huskies, caught him smiling. He ran more fre 
 quently now, and longer distances, and with the 
 passing of each mile his determination to strike 
 a decisive blow increased. If they reached the 
 trail of Meleese and Jackpine before the crossing 
 of the second sledge he would lay in wait for his 
 211
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 old enemies ; if they had preceded them he wotild 
 pursue and surprise them in camp. In eithev case 
 he would possess an overwhelming advantage. 
 
 With the same calculating attention to detai 1 
 that he would have shown in the arrangement of 
 plans for the building of a tunnel or a bridge, he 
 drew a mental map of his scheme and its possibili 
 ties. There would be at least two men with the 
 sledge, and possibly three. If they surrendered 
 at the point of his rifle without a fight he would 
 compel Jean to tie them up with dog-traces while 
 he held them under cover. If they made a move to 
 offer resistance he would shoot. With the auto 
 matic he could kill or wound the three before they 
 could reach their rifles, which would undoubtedly 
 be on the sledge. The situation had now reached 
 a point where he no longer took into considera 
 tion what these men might be to Meleese. 
 
 As they continued into the northwest Howlanc 
 noted that the thicker forest was gradually clear 
 ing into wide areas of small banskian pine, and 
 that the rock ridges and dense swamps which had 
 212
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 impeded their progress were becoming less ira- 
 merous. An hour before noon, after a tedious 
 jlimb to the top of a frozen ridge, Croisset point 
 ed down into a vast level plain lying between 
 them and other great ridges far to the north. 
 
 "That is a bit of the Barren Lands that creeps 
 down between those mountains off there, 
 M seur," he said. "Do you see that black forest 
 that looks like a charred log in the snow to the 
 south and west of the mountains? That is the 
 break that leads into the country of the Atha 
 basca. Somewhere between this point and that 
 we will strike the trail. Mon Dieu, I had half 
 expected to see them out there on the plain." 
 
 "Who ? Meleese and Jackpine, or " 
 
 "No, the others, M seur. Shall we have dinner 
 here?" 
 
 "Not until we hit the trail," replied Howland. 
 ^ m anxious to know about that one chance in 
 a hundred you ve given me hope of, Croisset. If 
 they have passed " 
 
 "If they are ahead of us you might just a* 
 213
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 well stand out there and let me put a bulle. 
 through you, M seur." 
 
 He went to the head of the dogs, guiding then 
 down the rough side of the ridge, while Howlanc 
 steadied the toboggan from behind. For three- 
 quarters of an hour they traversed the low bush 
 of the plain* in silence. From every rising snow 
 hummock Jean scanned the white desolation 
 about them, and each time, as nothing that was 
 human came within his vision, he turned toward 
 the engineer with a sinister shrug of his shoul 
 ders. Once three moving caribou, a mile or more 
 away, brought a quick cry to his lips and 
 Rowland noticed that a sudden flush of excite 
 ment came into his face, replaced in the next in 
 stant by a look of disappointment. After this 
 he maintained a more careful guard over the 
 Frenchman. They had covered less than half of 
 the distance to the caribou trail when in a small 
 open space free of bush Croisset s voice rose 
 sharply and the team stopped. 
 
 "What dc you think of it, M seur?" he cried,
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 pointing to the snow. "What do you think of 
 that?" 
 
 Barely cutting into the edge of the open war 
 the broken crust of two sledge trails. For a mo 
 ment Rowland forgot his caution and bent over 
 to examine the trails, with his back to his com 
 panion. When he looked up there was a curious 
 laughing gleam in Jean s eyes. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, but you are careless!" he ex 
 claimed. "Be more careful, M seur. I may give 
 myself up to another temptation like that." 
 
 "The deuce you say !" cried Howland, spring 
 ing back quickly. "I m much obliged, Jean. If 
 it wasn t for the moral effect of the thing I d 
 shake hands with you on that. How far ahead 
 of us do you suppose they are ?" 
 
 Croisset had fallen on his knees in the trail. 
 
 "The crust is freshly broken," he said after a 
 moment. "They have been gone not less than 
 two or three hours, perhaps since morning. See 
 this white glistening surface over the first trailj 
 M seui\ like a billion needle-points growing ou^ 
 215
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 it? That is the work of three or four days" 
 . The first sledge passed that long ago." 
 
 Rowland turned and picked up Croisset s rifle 
 The Frenchman watched him as h^ slipped a clip 
 hill of cartridges into the breech. 
 
 "If there s a snack of cold stuff in the pack 
 flig it out," he commanded. "We ll eat on the 
 run, if you ve got anything to eat. If you 
 haven t, we ll go hungry. We re going to over 
 take that sledge sometime this afternoon or to 
 night or bust !" 
 
 "The saints be biassed, then we are most cer 
 tain to bust, M seuv," gasped Jean. "And if we 
 don t the dogs w>ll. Non, it is impossible !" 
 
 "Is there anything to eat ?" 
 
 "A morse) of cold meat that is all. But I say 
 that it is impossible. That sledge " 
 
 Howland interrupted him with an in patient 
 gesture. 
 
 And I say that if there is anything to eat in 
 
 there, get it out, and be quick about it, Croisset. 
 
 WVre going to overtake those preciou c 
 
 216
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 of yours, and I warn you that if you make any 
 attempt to lose time something unpleasant is go 
 ing to happen. Understand?" 
 
 Jean had bent to unstrap one end of the sledge 
 pack and an angry flash leaped into his eyes at 
 the threatening tone of the engineer s voice. For 
 a moment he seemed on the point of speech, but 
 caught himself and in silence divided the small 
 chunk of meat which he drew from the pack, giv 
 ing the larger share to Rowland as he went to the 
 head of the dogs. Only once or twice during the 
 next hour did he look back, and after each of 
 these glances he redoubled his efforts at urging 
 on the huskies. Before they had come to the edge 
 of the black banskian forest which Jean had 
 pointed out from the farther side of the plain, 
 Howland saw that the pace was telling on the 
 team. The leader was trailing lame, and now 
 and then the whole pack would settle back in 
 their traces, to be urged on again by the fierce 
 cracking of Croisset s long whip. To add to his 
 own discomfiture Howland found that he could no
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 longer keep up with Jean and the dogs, and *xh 
 his weight added to the sledge the huskie* set 
 tled down into a tugging walk. 
 
 Thus they came into the deep low forest, and 
 Jean, apparently oblivious of the exhaustion of 
 both man and dogs, walked now in advance of 
 the team, his eyes constantly on the thin trail 
 ahead. Rowland could not fail to see that his 
 unnecessary threat of a few hours before still 
 rankled in the Frenchman s mind, and several 
 times he made an effort to break the other s taci 
 turnity. But Jean strode on in moody silence, 
 answering only those things which were put to 
 him directly, and speaking not an unnecessary 
 word. At last the engineer jumped from the 
 sledge and overtook his companion. 
 
 "Hold on, Jean," he cried. "I ve got enough. 
 You re right, and I want to apologize. We re 
 busted that is, the dogs and I are busted, and 
 we might as well give it up until we ve had a feed. 
 What do you say?" 
 
 "I say that you have stopped just in time, 
 218
 
 THE PURSUIT 
 
 M seur," replied Croisset with purring softness. 
 "Another half hour and we would have been 
 vhrough the forest, and just beyond that in the 
 adge of the plain are those whom you seek, Me- 
 ieese and her people. That is what I started to 
 tell you back there when you shut me up. Mon 
 Dieu, if it were not for Meleese I would let you 
 go on. And then what would happen then, 
 M seur, if you made your visit to them in broad 
 day? Listen!" 
 
 Jean lifted a warning hand. Faintly there 
 came to them through the forest the distant bay 
 ing of a hound. 
 
 "That is one of our dogs from the Mackenzie 
 country," he went on softly, an insinuating tri 
 umph in his low voice. "Now, M seur, that I 
 have brought you here what are you going to 
 do? Shall we go on and take dinner with those 
 who are going to kill you, or will you wait a few 
 hours? Eh, which shall it be?" 
 
 For a moment Rowland stood motionless^ 
 stunned by the Frenchman s words. Quickly he 
 19
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 recovered himself. His eyes burned with a metal 
 lic gleam as they met the half taunt in Croisset s 
 cool smile. 
 
 "If I had not stopped you we would have 
 gone on ?" he questioned tensely. 
 
 "To be sure, M seur," retorted Croisset, still 
 smiling. "You warned me to lose no time that 
 something would happen if I did." 
 
 With a quick movement Howland drew his re 
 volver and leveled it at the Frenchman s heart. 
 
 "If you ever prayed to those blessed saints of 
 yours, dc it now, Jean Croisset, I m going to kill 
 you !" he cried fiercely. 
 
 2*0
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE IJGHT 
 
 IN a single breath the face of Jean Croisse* 
 became no more than a mask of what it had 
 been. The taunting smile left his lips and a gray 
 pallor spread over his face as he saw Rowland s 
 finger crooked firmly on the trigger of his re 
 volver. In another instant there came the sound 
 of a metallic snap. 
 
 "Damnation ! An empty cartridge !" Rowland 
 exclaimed. "I forgot to load after those three 
 shots at the cup. It s coming this time, Jean !" 
 
 Purposely he snapped the second empty cart* 
 Bridge. 
 
 "The great God!" gasped Jean. "M seur * 
 
 From deep in the forest came again the baying 
 of the Mackenzie hound. This time it was much
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 nearer^ and for a moment Rowland s eyes left 
 the Frenchman s terrified face as he turned his 
 lead to listen. 
 
 "They are coming!" exclaimed Croisset. 
 **M seur, I swear to " 
 
 Again Rowland s pistol covered his heart. 
 
 "Then it is even more necessary that I kill 
 you," he said with frightful calmness. "I warned 
 you that I would kill you if you led me into a 
 trap, Croisset. The dogs are bushed. There is 
 no way out of this but to fight if there are 
 people coming down the trail. Listen to that !" 
 
 This time, from still nearer, came the shout of 
 a man, and then of another, followed by the 
 huskies sharp yelping as they started afresh on 
 the trail. The flush of excitement that had come 
 into Howland s face paled until he stood as white 
 as the Frenchman. But it was not the whiteness 
 Of fear. His eyes were like blue steel flashing in 
 the sunlight. 
 
 "There is nothing to do but fight," he repeat 
 ed, even more calmly than before. "If we were a 
 222
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGH1 
 
 wile or two back there it could all happen as i 
 planned it. But here " 
 
 "They will hear the shots," cried Jean, "Tfc 
 post is no more than a gunshot beyond the forest, 
 and there are plenty there who would come 01^ 
 to see what it means. Quick, M seur follow me : 
 Possibly they are hunters going out to the trap- 
 lines. If it comes to the worst " 
 
 "What then?" demanded Howland. 
 
 "You can shoot me a little later," temporized 
 the Frenchman with a show of his old coolness. 
 "Mon Dieu, I am afraid of that gun, M seur. 
 I will get you out of this if I can. Will you give 
 me the chance or will you shoot?" 
 
 "I will shoot if you fail," replied the en 
 gineer. 
 
 Barely were the words out of his mouth when 
 Croisset sprang to the head of the dogs, seized 
 the leader by his neck-trace and half dragged the 
 team and sledge through the thick bush that 
 edged the trail. A dozen paces farther on the 
 dense scrub oened into the clearer run of tho
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 low-hanging banskian through which Jean start 
 ed at a slow trot, with Rowland a yard behind 
 turn, and the huskies following with human-like 
 cleverness in the sinuous twistings of the trail 
 which the Frenchman marked out for them. They 
 had progressed not more than three hundred 
 yards when there came to them for a third time 
 the hallooing of a voice. With a sharp "hup, 
 hup," and a low crack of his whip Jean stopped 
 the dogs. 
 
 "The Virgin be praised, but that is luck !" he 
 exclaimed. "They have turned off into another 
 trail to the east, M seur. If they had come on to 
 that break in the bush where we dragged the 
 sledge through " He shrugged his shoulders 
 with a gasp of relief . "Sacre, they would not be 
 fools enough to pass it without wondering !" 
 
 Rowland had broken the breech of his revolver 
 and was replacing the three empty cartridges 
 with fresh ones, 
 
 "There will be no mistake next time," he said, 
 holding out the weapon. "You were as near your
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 death a few moments ago as ever before in your 
 life, Croisset and now for a little plain under 
 standing between us. Until we stopped out there 
 I had some faith in you. Now I have none. I re* 
 gard you as my worst enemy, and though you 
 are deuced near to your friends I tell you that 
 you were never in a tighter box in your life. If I 
 fail in my mission here, you shall die. If others 
 come along that trail before dark, and run us 
 down, I will kill you. Unless you make it possible 
 for me to see and talk with Meleese I will kill 
 you. Your life hangs on my success; with my 
 failure your death is as certain as the coming 
 of night. I am going to put a bullet through 
 you at the slightest suspicion of treachery. Un 
 der the circumstances what do you propose to 
 do?" 
 
 "I am glad that you changed your mind, 
 M seur, and I will not tempt you again. I will 
 do the best that I can," said Jean. Through a 
 narrow break in the tops of the banskian pines 
 a few feathery flakes of snow were falling, and 
 225
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Jean lifted his eyes to the slit of gray sky above 
 them. "Within an hour it will be snowing heav 
 ily," he affirmed. "If they do not run across ouj 
 trail by that time, M seur, we shall be safe." 
 
 He led the way through the forest again, more 
 slowly and with greater caution than before, and 
 whenever he looked over his shoulder he caught 
 the dull gleam of Rowland s revolver as it point 
 ed at the hollow of his back. 
 
 "The devil, but you make me uncomfortable," 
 he protested. "The hammer is up, too, M seur " 
 
 "Yes, it is up," said Howland grimly. "And it 
 never leaves your back, Croisset. If the gun 
 should go off accidentally it would bore a hole 
 clean through you." 
 
 Half an hour later the Frenchman halted 
 where the banskians climbed the side of a sloping 
 ridge. 
 
 *If you could trust me I would ask to go on 
 ahead," whispered Jean. "This ridge shuts in 
 the plain, M seur, and just over the top of it is 
 an old cabin which has been abandoned for
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 many years. There is not one chance in a thou 
 sand of there being any one there, though it is a 
 good fox ridge at this season. From it you may 
 6ee the light in Meleese s window at night." 
 
 He did not stop to watch the effect of his last 
 words, but began picking his way up the ridge 
 with the dogs tugging at his heels. At the top he 
 swung sharply between two huge masses of snow- 
 covered rock, and in the lee of the largest of 
 these, almost entirely sheltered from the drifts 
 piled up by easterly winds, they came suddenly 
 on a small log hut. About it there were no 
 signs of life. With unusual eagerness Jean 
 scanned the surface of the snow, and when he saw 
 that there was trail of neither man nor beast in 
 the unbroken crust a look of relief came into his 
 face. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, so far I have saved my hide," he 
 grinned. "Now, M seur, look for yourself and 
 <see if Jean Croisset has not kept his word !" 
 
 A dozen steps had taken him through a screen 
 of shrub to the opposite slope of the ridge. With 
 227
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 outstretched arm he pointed down into the plain, 
 and as Rowland s eyes followed its direction he 
 stood throbbing with sudden excitement. Less 
 than a quarter of a mile away, sheltered in a dip 
 of the plain, were three or four log buildings ris 
 ing black and desolate out of the white waste. 
 One of these buildings was a large structure 
 similar to that in which Howland had been im 
 prisoned, and as he looked a team and sledge 
 appeared from behind one of the cabins and halt 
 ed close to the wall of the large building. The 
 driver was plainly visible, and to Rowland s as 
 tonishment he suddenly began to ascend the side 
 of this wall: For the moment Howland had not 
 thought of a stair. 
 
 Jean s attitude drew his eyes. The Frenchman 
 had thrust himself half out of the screening 
 bushes and was staring through the telescope of 
 his hands. With an exclamation he turned quick 
 ly to the engineer. 
 
 "Look, M seur ! Do you see that man climbing 
 the stair? I don t mind telling you that he is 
 228
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 the one who hit you over the head on the trail, 
 and also one of those who shut you up in the coy 
 ote. Those are his quarters at the post, and pos- 
 flibly he is going up to see Meleese. If you were 
 much of a shot you could settle a score or two 
 from here, M seur." 
 
 The figure had stopped, evidently on a plat 
 form midway up the side of the building. He 
 stood for a moment as if scanning the plain be 
 tween him and the mountain, then disappeared. 
 Howland had not spoken a word, but every nerve 
 in his body tingled strangely. 
 
 "You say Meleese is there?" he questioned 
 hesitatingly. "And he who is that man, Crois- 
 set?" 
 
 Jean shrugged his shoulders and drew himself 
 back into the bush, turning leisurely toward the 
 old cabin. 
 
 "Non, M seur, I will not tell you that," he pro 
 tested. "I have brought you to this place. I 
 have pointed out to you the stair that leads to 
 the room where you will find Meleese. You may 
 229
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 cut me into ribbons for the ravens, but 1 will tefl 
 you no more !" 
 
 Again the threatening fire leaped into How 
 land s eyes. 
 
 "I will trouble you to put your hands behind 
 your back, Croisset," he commanded. "I am go 
 ing to return a certain compliment of yours by 
 tying your hands with this piece of babeesh, 
 which you used on me. After that " 
 
 "And after that, M seur " urged Jean, with 
 a touch of the old taunt in his voice, and stop 
 ping with his back to the engineer and his hands 
 behind him. "After that?" 
 
 "You will tell me all that I want to know," 
 finished Howland, tightening the thong about his 
 wrists. 
 
 He led the way then to the cabin. The door 
 was closed, but opened readily as he put his 
 weight against it. The single room was lighted 
 by a window through which a mass of snow had 
 drifted, and contained nothing more than a rude 
 table built against one of the log walls, three 
 230
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 supply boxes that had evidently been employed 
 as stools, and a cracked and rust-eaten sheet-iron 
 stove that had from all appearances long passed 
 intc disuse. He motioned the Frenchman to a 
 seat at one end of the table. Without a word las 
 then went outside, securely toggled the leading 
 dog, and returning, closed the door and seated 
 himself at the end of the table opposite Jean. 
 
 The light from the open window fell full on 
 Croisset s dark face and shone in a silvery streak 
 along the top of Rowland s revolver as the 
 muzzle of it rested casually on a line with the 
 other s breast. There was a menacing click as 
 the engineer drew back the hammer. 
 
 "Now, my dear Jean, we re ready to begin the 
 real game," he explained. "Here we are, high 
 and dry, and down there just far enough away 
 to be ou of hearing of this revolver when I 
 shoot are those we re going to play against, 
 So far I ve been completely in the dark. I know 
 of no ..eason why I shouldn t go down there 
 openly and be welcomed and given a good sup-
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 per. And yet at the same time I know that my 
 life wouldn t be worth a tinker s damn if I did 
 go down. You can clear up the whole business, 
 and that s what you re going to do. When I 
 understand why I am scheduled to be murdered 
 on sight I won t be handicapped as I now am, 
 So go ahead and spiel. If you don t, I ll blow 
 your head off." 
 
 Jean sat unflinching, his lips drawn tightly, 
 his head set square and defiant. 
 
 "You may shoot, M seur," he said quietly. 
 "I have sworn on a cross of the Virgin to tell you 
 no more than I have. You could not torture me 
 into revealing what you ask." 
 
 Slowly Howland raised his revolver. 
 
 "Once more, Croisset will you tell me?" 
 
 "A 7 <m, M seur" 
 
 A deafening explosion filled the little cabin. 
 From the lobe of Jean s ear there ran a re^ 
 trickle of blood. His face had gone deathly pale, 
 But even as the bullet had stung him within ar> 
 inch of his brain he had not flinched. 
 232
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 "Will you tell me, Croisset?" 
 
 This time the black pit of the engineer s re 
 volver centered squarely between the French 
 man s eyes. 
 
 "Non, M seur." 
 
 The eyes of the two men met over the blue 
 steeh With a cry Howland slowly lowered his 
 weapon* 
 
 "Good God, but you re a brave man, Jean 
 Croisset !" he cried. "I d sooner kill a dozen men 
 Uaafr I know than you !" 
 
 He rose to his feet and went to the door t 
 There was still but little snow in the air. To the 
 north the horizon was growing black with the 
 early approach of the northern night. With a 
 nervous laugh he returned to Jean. 
 
 "Deuce take it if I don t feel like apologizing 
 to you," he exclaimed. "Does your ear hurt?" 
 
 "No more than if I had scratched it with 4 
 thorn," returned Jean politely. "You are good 
 with the pistol, M seur." 
 
 "I would not profit by killing you just
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 mused Rowland, seating himself again on the 
 box and resting his chin in the palm of his hand 
 as he looked across at the other. "But that s * 
 pretty good intimation that I m desperate ant 
 mean business, Croisset. We won t quarrel about 
 the things I ve asked you. What I m here for is 
 to see Meleese. Now how is that to happen?" 
 
 "For the life of me I don t know," replied 
 Jean, as calmly as though a bullet had not 
 nipped the edge of his ear a moment before 
 "There is only one way I can see, M seur, and 
 that is to wait and watch from this mountain top 
 until Meleese drives out her dogs. She has her 
 own team, and in ordinary seasons frequently 
 goes out alone or with one of the women at the 
 post. Mon Dieu, she has had enough sledge- 
 riding of late, and I doubt if she will find pleas 
 ttre in her dogs for a long time." 
 
 "I had planned to use you," said Rowland 
 
 *but I ve lost faith in you. Honestly, Croisset 
 
 I believe you would stick me in the h#ck 
 
 as quickly as those murderers down cktr * 
 
 234
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 "Not in the back, M seur," smiled the French* 
 man, unmoved. "I have had opportunities to dc 
 that. Now, since that fight back there I do no* 
 believe that I want to kill you." 
 
 "But I would be a fool to trust yotu Isn t 
 that so?" 
 
 "Not if I gave you my word. That is some 
 thing we do not break up here as you d down 
 among the Wekusko people, and farther south." 
 
 "But you murder people for pastime eh, my 
 dear Jean?" 
 
 Croisset shrugged his shoulders without 
 speaking. 
 
 "See here, Croisset," said Rowland with suc^ 
 den earnestness, "I m almost tempted to take a 
 chance with you. Will you go down to the post 
 to-night, in some way gain access to Meleese, and 
 give her a message from me?" 
 
 "And the message what would it be?** 
 
 "It would bring Meleese up to this cabin-* 
 to-night." 
 
 "Are you sure, M seur?" 
 235
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "I am certain that it would. Will you go?"* 
 
 "Non, M seur." 
 
 "The devil take you !" cried Rowland angrily 
 If I was not certain that I would need you later 
 I d garrote you where you sit." 
 
 He rose and went to the old stove. It was 
 still capable of holding fire, and as it had grown 
 too dark outside for the rmoke to be observed 
 from the post, he proceeded to prepare a supper 
 of hot coffee and meat. Jean watched him in 
 silence, and not until food and drink were on the 
 table did the engineer himself break silence. 
 
 "Of course, I m not going to feed you," he 
 said curtly, "so I ll have to free your hand? 
 But be careful." 
 
 He placed his revolver on the table beside hint 
 after he had freed Croisset* 
 
 "I might assassinate you with a fork!" 
 chuckled the Frenchman softly, his black eye* 
 laughing over his coffee cup. "I drink your 
 health, M seur, and wish you 
 
 "You lie !" snapped Rowland. 
 236
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 Jean lowered the cup without drinking, 
 
 "It s the truth, M seur," he insisted. "Since 
 that fce*?-utiful fight back there I can not help 
 but wish you happiness. I drink also to the 
 happiness of Meleese, also to the happiness of 
 those who tried to kill you on the trail and at the 
 coyote. But, Mon Dieu, how is it all to come? 
 Those at the post are happy because they believe 
 that you are dead. You will not be happy until 
 they are dead. And Meleese how will all this 
 bring happiness to her? I tell you that I am as 
 deep in trouble as you, M seur Howland. May 
 the Virgin strike me dead if I m not!" 
 
 He drank, his eyes darkening gloomily. In 
 that moment there flashed into Rowland s mind 
 a memory of the battle that Jean had fought for 
 him on the Great North Trail. 
 
 "You nearly killed one of them that night 
 at Prince Albert," he said slowly. "I can t 
 understand why you fought for me then and 
 won t help me now. But you did And you re 
 qf raid to go down there " 
 237
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "Until I have regrown a beard," interrupted 
 Jean with a low chuckling laugh. "You would 
 not be the only one to die if they saw me again 
 like this. But that is enough, M seur. I will 
 say no more." 
 
 **I really don t want to make you uncomfort 
 able. Jean," Rowland apologized, as he secured 
 the Frenchman s hands again after they had sat 
 isfied their hearty appetites, "but unless you 
 swear by your Virgin or something else that you 
 will make no attempt to call assistance I shall 
 have to gag you. What do you say ?" 
 
 "I will make no outcry, M seur. I give you 
 my word for that." 
 
 With another length of babeesh Howland tied 
 his companion s legs. 
 
 "I m ->ing to investigate a little," he ex 
 plained. "I am not afraid of your voice, for if 
 you begin to shout I will hear you first. But 
 With your legs free you might take it into your 
 bead to run away." 
 
 "Would you mind spreading a blanket on the 
 238
 
 floor, M seur? If you are gone long this bo 
 will grow hard and sharp." 
 
 A few minutes later, after he had made hif 
 prisoner as comfortable as possible in the cabin, 
 Rowland went again through the fringe of scrub 
 bush to the edge of the ridge. Below him the 
 plain was lost in the gloom of night. He could 
 see nothing of the buildings at the post but two 
 or three lights gleaming faintly through the 
 darkness. Overhead there were no stars ; thick 
 ening snow shut out what illumination there 
 might have been in the north, and even as he 
 stood looking into the desolation to the west the 
 snow fell faster and the lights grew fainter and 
 fainter until all was a chaos of blackness. 
 
 In these moments a desire that was almost 
 madness swept over him. Since his fight witn 
 Jean the swift passing of events had confined his 
 thoughts to their one objective the finding oJ 
 Meleese and her people. He had assured him 
 self that his every move was to be a cool and cal 
 culating one, that nothing not even his great 
 239
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 love should urge him beyond that reason whicK 
 had made him a master-builder among men. As 
 he stood with the snow falling heavily on him he 
 knew that his trail would be covered before an 
 other day that for an indefinite period he might 
 safely wait and watch for Meleese on the moun 
 tain top. And yet, slowly, he made his way 
 down the side of the ridge. A little way out 
 there in the gloom, barely beyond the call of hi? 
 voice, was the girl for whom he was willing is 
 sacrifice all that he had ever achieved in life t 
 With each step the desire in him grew the im 
 pulse to bring himself nearer to her, to steal 
 across the plain, to approach in the silent smother 
 of the storm until he could look on the light 
 which Jean Croisset had told him would gleam 
 from her window. 
 
 He descended to the foot of the ridge and 
 beaded into the plain, taking the caution to bury 
 his feet deep in the snow that he might have a 
 trail to guide him back to the cabin. At first he 
 found himself impeded by low bush. Then the 
 240
 
 THE GLEAM OF THE LIGHT 
 
 plain became more open, and he knew that there 
 was nothing but the night and the snow to shut 
 jut his vision ahead. Still he had no motive, no 
 reason for what he did. The snow would cover 
 his tracks before morning. There would be no 
 harm done, and he might get a glimpse of the 
 light, of her light. 
 
 It came on his vision with a suddenness that 
 set his heart leaping. A dog barked ahead of 
 him, so near that he stopped in his tracks, and 
 then suddenly there shot through the snow-gloom 
 the bright gleam of a lamp. Before he had 
 taken another breath he was aware of what had 
 happened. A curtain had been drawn aside in 
 the chaos ahead. He was almost on the walls 
 of the post and the light gleamed from high 
 up, from the head of the stair ! 
 
 For a space he stood still, listening and watch- 
 Ing. There was no other light, no other sound 
 after the barking of the dog. About him the 
 snow fell with fluttering noiselessness and it 
 filled him with a sensation of safety. The sharp-
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 est eyes could not see him, the keenest ears could 
 not hear him and he advanced again until be 
 fore him there rose out of the gloom a hugi 
 shadowy mass that was blacker than the night 
 itself. The one lighted window was plainly 
 visible now, its curtain two-thirds drawn, and as 
 he looked a shadow passed over it. Was it a 
 woman s shadow? The window darkened as the 
 figure within came nearer to it, and Rowland 
 stood with clenched hands and wildly beating 
 heart, almost ready to call out softly a name. A 
 little nearer one more step and he would 
 know. He might throw a chunk of snow-crust f 
 ^, cartridge from his belt and then 
 
 The shadow disappeared. Dimly Howland 
 made out the snow-covered stair, and he went to 
 it and looked up. Ten feet above him the light 
 shone out. 
 
 He looked into the gloom behind him, into thf 
 gloom out of which he had come. Nothing 
 nothing but the storm. Swiftly he mounted the 
 stair. 
 
 Mi
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 FLATTENING himself closely against the 
 black logs of the wall Howland paused on 
 the platform at the top of the stair. His grop 
 ing hand touched the jam of a door and he held 
 his breath when his fingers incautiously rattled 
 the steel of a latch. In another moment he 
 passed on, three paces four along the plat 
 form, at last sinking on his knees in the snow, 
 close under the window, his eyes searched the 
 lighted room an inch at a time. He saw a sec 
 tion of wall at first, dimly illuminated; then a 
 small table rear the window covered with books 
 and magazines, and beside it a reclining chair 
 buried thick under a great white bear robe. Or 
 the table, but beyond his vision, was the lamp. 
 He drew himself a few inches more through the 
 snow, leaning still farther ahead, until he 
 243
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 the foot of a white bed. A little more and he 
 stopped, his white face close to the window-pane 
 
 On the bed, facing him, sat Meleese. Her chiu 
 was buried in the cup of her hands, and he no* 
 ticed that she was in a dressing-gown and that 
 her beautiful hair was loosed and flowing in 
 glistening waves about her, as though she had 
 just brushed it for the night. A movement, a 
 slight shifting of her eyes, and she would have 
 seen him. 
 
 He was filled with an almost mastering im 
 pulse to press his face closer, to tap on the win 
 dow, to draw her eyes to him, but even as his 
 hand rose to do the bidding of that impulse 
 something restrained him. Slowly the girl lifted 
 her head, and he was thrilled to find that another 
 onpulse drew him back until his ghostly face was 
 a part of the elusive snow-gloom. He watched 
 her as she turned from him and threw back the 
 lcry of her hair until it half hid her in a mass 
 of copper and gold; from his distance he stil" 
 gazed at her, choking and undecided, while she 
 244
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 gathered it in three heavy strands and plaited 
 it into a shining braid. 
 
 For an instant has eyes wandered. BeyonJ 
 her presence the room was empty. He saw a door, 
 and observed that it opened into another rocrin t , 
 which in turn could be entered through the plafr 
 form door behind him. With his old exactness 
 for detail he leaped to definite conclusion. These 
 were Meleese s apartments at the post, separated 
 from all others and Meleese was preparing to 
 retire for the night. If the outer door was not 
 locked, and he entered, what danger could there 
 be of interruption? It was late. The post wa* 
 asleep. He had seen no light but that in the win 
 dow through which he was staring. 
 
 The thought was scarcely born before he wag 
 at the platform door. The latch clicked gently 
 under his fingers :, cautiously he pushed the door 
 inward and thrust in his head and shoulders. 
 The air inside was cold and frosty. He reached 
 out an arm to the right and his hand encountered 
 the rough-hewn surface of a wall ; he advance** 
 245
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 v. *cep and reached out to the left. There, too* 
 his hand touched a wall. He was in a narrow 
 ?orridor. Ahead of him there shone a thin ray 
 of light from under the door that opened int 
 Meleese s room. Nerving himself for the last 
 move, he went boldly to the door, knocked lightly 
 to give some warning of his presence, and en 
 tered. Meleese was gone. He closed the door 
 behind him, scarce believing his eyes. Then at 
 the far end of the room he saw a curtain, undu 
 lating slightly as if from the movement of a per 
 son on the other side of it. 
 
 "Meleese !" he called softly. 
 
 White and dripping with snow, his face blood 
 less in the tense excitement of the moment, he 
 stood with his arms half reaching out when the 
 curtain was thrust aside and the girl stood before 
 him. At first she did not recognize him in his 
 ghostly storm-covered disguise. But before th| 
 startled cry that was on her lips found utterance 
 the fear that had blanched her face gave place 
 to a swift sweeping flood of color. For a space 
 246
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 there was no word between them as they stood 
 separated by the breadth of the room, Howland 
 with his arms held out to her in pleading silence, 
 Meleese with her hands clutched to her bosom, 
 her throat atremble with strange sobbing notes 
 that made no more sound than the fluttering of 
 a bird s wing. 
 
 And Howland, as he came across the room to 
 her, found no words to say none of the things 
 that he had meant to whisper to her, but drew 
 her to him and crushed her close to his breast, 
 knowing that in this moment nothing could tell 
 her more eloquently than the throbbing of his 
 own heart, the passionate pressure of his face to 
 her face, of his great love which seemed to stir 
 into life the very silence that encompassed them. 
 
 It was a silence broken after a moment by a short 
 choking cry, the quick-breathing terror of a face 
 turned suddenly up to him robbed of its flush 
 and quivering with a fear that still found no 
 voice in words. He felt the girl s arms strain 
 ing against him for freedom ; her eyes were filled 
 247
 
 THE DANGER TRAIT 
 
 with a staring, questioning horror, as though hi* 
 presence had grown into a thing of which she 
 was afraid. The change was tonic to him. This 
 was what he had expected the first terror at his 
 presence, the struggle against his will, and there 
 surged back over him the forces he had reserved 
 for this moment. He opened his arms and Me- 
 leese slipped from them, her hands clutched again 
 in the clinging drapery of her bosom. 
 
 "I have come for you, Meleese," he said as 
 calmly as though his arrival had been expected. 
 "Jean is my prisoner. I forced him to drive me 
 to the old cabin up on the mountain, and he is 
 waiting there with the dogs. We will start back 
 to-night now." Suddenly he sprang to her 
 again, his voice breaking in a low pleading cry. 
 "My God, don t you see now how I love you?" 
 he went on, taking her white face between his 
 two hands. "Don t you understand, Meleese? 
 Jean and I have fought he is bound hand and 
 foot up there in the cabin and I am waiting for 
 you for you " He pressed her face against 
 248
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 him, her lips so close that he could feel their 
 quavering breath. "I have come to fight for 
 you if you won t go," he whispered tensely, 
 "I don t know why your people have tried to kill 
 me, I don t know why they want to kill me, and 
 it makes no difference to me now. I want you. 
 I ve wanted you since that first glimpse of your 
 face through the window, since the fight on the 
 trail every minute, every hour, and I won t 
 give you up as long as I m alive. If you won t 
 go with me if you won t go now to-night " 
 He held her closer, his voice trembling in her 
 hair. "If you won t go I m going to stay with 
 you!" 
 
 was a thrillingly decisive note in his 
 last words, a note that carried with it more than 
 all he had said before, and as Meleese partly 
 drew away from him again she gave a sharp crj 
 of protest. 
 
 "No no no ^ she panted, her hands 
 clutching at his arm. "You must go back now 
 now " She pushed him toward the door, and 
 249
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 US he backed a step, looking down into her face, 
 he saw the choking tremble of her white throat, 
 heard again the fluttering terror in her breath. 
 *They will kill you if they find you here," she 
 urged. "They think you are dead that you 
 fell through the ice and were drowned. If you 
 don t believe me, if you don t believe that I can 
 never go with you, tell Jean " 
 
 Her words seemed to choke her as she strug 
 gled to finish. 
 
 "Tell Jean what?" he questioned softly. 
 
 "Will you go then?" she cried with sobbing 
 eagerness, as if he already understood her. "Will 
 you go back if Jean tells you everything every 
 thing about me about " 
 
 "No," he interrupted. 
 
 "If you only knew then you would go back, 
 V)d never see me again. You would under- 
 tand " 
 
 **I will never understand," he interrupted 
 again. "I say that it is you who do not under- 
 utand, Meleese! I don t care what Jean would
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 teh me. Nothing that has ever happened can 
 make me not want you. Don t you understand? 
 Nothing, I say nothing that has happened 
 that can ever happen unless " 
 
 For a moment he stopped, looking straighi 
 into her eyes. 
 
 "Nothing nothing in the world, Meleese," he 
 repeated almost in a whisper, "unless you did 
 not tell me the truth jack on the trail at We- 
 kusko when you said that it was not a sin to 
 love you." 
 
 "And if I tell you if I confess that it is a 
 sin, that I lied back there then will you go?" 
 she demanded quickly. 
 
 Her eyes flamed on him with a strange light. 
 
 "No," he said calmly. "I would not believe 
 you." 
 
 "But it is the truth. I lied lied terribly t 
 you. I have sinned even more terribly, and 
 and you must go. Don t you understand me 
 now? If some one should come and find you 
 here " 
 
 251
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 "There would be a fight," he said grimly. "I 
 have come prepared to fight." He waited a mo 
 ment, and in the silence the brown head in front 
 of him dropped slowly and he saw a tremor pass 
 through the slender form, as if it had been torn 
 by an instant s pain. The pallor had gone from 
 Rowland s face. The mute surrender in the 
 bowed head, the soft sobbing notes that he heard 
 now in the girl s breath, the confession that he 
 read in her voiceless grief set his heart leaping, 
 and again he drew her close into his arms and 
 turned her face up to his own. There was no re 
 sistance now, no words, no pleading for him to 
 go; but in her eyes he saw the prayerful en 
 treaty with which she had come to him on the 
 Wekusko trail, and in the quivering red mouth 
 the same torture and love and half-surrender 
 that had burned themselves into his soul there. 
 Love, triumph, undying faith shone in his eyes, 
 and he crushed her face closer until the lovely 
 mouth lay pouted like a crimson rose for him to 
 kiss.
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 "You you told me something that wasn t 
 true once back there," he whispered, "and 
 you promised that you wouldn t do it again 
 You haven t sinned in the way that I mean, 
 and in the way that you want me to believe." 
 His arms tightened still more about her, and his 
 voice was suddenly filled with a tense quick 
 eagerness. "Why don t you tell me every 
 thing?" he asked. "You believe that if I knew 
 certain things I would never want to see you 
 again, that I would go back into the South. 
 You have told me that. Then if you want me 
 to go why don t you reveal these things to me? 
 If you can t do that, go with me to-night. We 
 will go anywhere to the ends of the earth " 
 
 He stopped at the look that had come into her 
 face. Her eyes were turned to the window. He 
 saw them filled with a strange terror, and invol 
 untarily his own followed them to where the 
 storm was beating softly against the window- 
 pane. Close to the lighted glass was pressed a 
 man s face. He caught a flashing glimpse of a 
 253
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 pair of eyes staring in at them, of a thick, wild 
 beard whitened by the snow. He knew the face. 
 When life seemed slipping out of his throat he 
 had looked up into it that night of the ambush 
 on the Great North Trail. There was the same 
 hatred, the same demoniac fierceness in it now. 
 
 With a quick movement Howland sprang away 
 from the girl and leveled his revolver to where 
 the face had been. Over the shining barrel he 
 saw only the taunting emptiness of the storm. 
 Scarcely had the face disappeared when there 
 came the loud shout of a man, the hoarse calling 
 of a name, and then of another, and after that 
 the quick, furious opening of the outer door. 
 
 Howland whirled, his weapon pointing to the 
 only entrance. The girl was ahead of him and 
 with a warning cry he swung the muzzle of his 
 i*un upward. In a moment she had pushed the 
 x>lt that locked the room from the inside, and 
 aad leaped back to him, her face white, her 
 breath breaking in fear. She spoke w wwd, 
 but with a moan of terror caught bi. t **in 
 254
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 arm and pulled him past the light and beyond 
 the thick curtain that had hidden her when h 
 had entered the room a few minutes before 
 They were in a second room, palely lighted by 8 
 mass of coals gleaming through the open door 
 of a box stove, and with a second window look 
 ing out into the thick night. Fiercely she 
 dragged him to this window, her fingers biting 
 Jeep into the flesh of his arm. 
 
 "You must go through this!" she cried 
 chokingly. "Quick! O, my God, won t you 
 hurry? Won t you go?" 
 
 Howland had stopped. From the blackness of 
 the corridor there came the beat of heavy fists 
 on the door and the rage of a thundering voice 
 demanding admittance. From out in the night 
 it was answered by the sharp barking of a dog 
 and the shout of a second voice. 
 
 "Why should I go?" he asked. "I told you ( 
 few moments ago that I had come prepared tf 
 fight, Meleese. I shall stay and fight !" 
 
 "Please please go!" she sobbed, striving te 
 255
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 pull him nearer to the window. "You can get 
 away in the storm. The snow will cover your 
 trail. If you stay they will kill you kill you * 
 
 "I prefer to fight and be killed rather than to 
 run away without you," he interrupted. "If 
 you will go " 
 
 She crushed herself against his breast. 
 
 "I can t go now this way " she urged. 
 "But I will come to you. I promise that I will 
 come to you." For an instant her hands clasped 
 his face. "Will you go if I promise you that ?" 
 
 "You swear that you will follow me that you 
 will come down to the Wekusko? My God, are 
 you telling me the truth, Meleese ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I will come to you if you go now." 
 She broke from him and he heard her fumbling 
 at the window. "I will come I will come but 
 not to Wekusko. They will follow you there. 
 Gro back to Priu.ee Albert to the hotel where I 
 tooked at you through the window. I will come 
 Here s^r^time as soon as I can " 
 
 A blast of cold air swept into his face. He 
 256
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 had thrust his revolver into its holster and now 
 again for an instant he held Meleese close in his 
 arms. 
 
 "You will be my wife?" he whispered. 
 
 He felt her throbbing against him. Suddenly 
 her arms tightened around his neck. 
 
 "Yes, if you want me then if you want me 
 after you know what I am. Now, go please, 
 please go !" 
 
 He pulled himself through the window, hang 
 ing for a last moment to the ledge. 
 
 "If you fail to come within a month I shall 
 return," he said. 
 
 Her hands were at his face again. Once more, 
 as on the trail at Le Pas, he felt the sweet pres 
 sure of her lips. 
 
 "I will come," she whispered. 
 
 Her hands thrust him back and he was fo?ced 
 to drop to the snow below. Scarcely had his 
 feet touched when there sounded the fierce yelp 
 of a dog close to him, and as he darted away 
 into the smother of the storm the brute followed 
 257
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 at his heels, barking excitedly in the manner of 
 the mongrel curs that had found their way up 
 firm the South. Between the dog s alarm anc 
 the loud outcry of men there was barely time in 
 which to draw a breath. From the stair plat 
 form came a rapid fusillade of rifle shots that 
 sang through the air above Rowland s head, and 
 mingled with the fire was a hoarse voice urging 
 on the cur that followed within a leap of his 
 heels. 
 
 The presence of the dog filled the engineer 
 with a fear that he had not anticipated. Not 
 for an instant did the brute give slack to his 
 tongue as they raced through the night, and 
 Rowland knew now that the storm and the dark 
 ness were of little avail in his race for life. 
 There was but one chance, and he determined to 
 take it. Gradually he slackened his pace, draw- 
 ing and cocking his revolver ; then he turned sud 
 denly to confront the yelping Nemesis behind 
 him. Three times he fired in quick succession 
 at moving blot in the snow-gloom, and then 
 258
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 ap from that blot a wailing cry that ht 
 knew was caused by the deep bite of lead. 
 
 Again he plunged on, a muffled shout of de- 
 iance on his lips. Never had the fire of battle 
 raged in his veins as now. Back in the window, 
 listening in terror, praying for him, was Me- 
 leese. The knowledge that she was there, that 
 at last he had won her and was fighting for her, 
 stirred him with a joy that was next to madness. 
 Nothing could stop him now. He loaded his 
 revolver as he ran, slackening his pace as he cov 
 ered greater distance, for he knew that in the 
 storm his trail could be followed scarcely faster 
 than a walk. 
 
 He gave no thought to Jean Croisset, bound 
 hand and foot in the little cabin on the 
 mountain. Even as he had clung to the window 
 for that last moment it had occurred to him 
 that it would be folly to return to the French 
 man. Meleese had promised to come to him, and 
 he believed her, and for that reason Jean was :io 
 longer of use to him. Alone he would lose him 
 259
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 self in that wilderness, alone work his way into 
 the South, trusting to his revolver for food, and 
 to his compass and the matches in his pocket foj 
 life. There would be no sledge-trail for his 
 enemies to follow, no treachery to fear. It would 
 take a thousand men to find him after the night s 
 storm had covered up his retreat, and if one 
 should find him they two would be alone to fight 
 it out. 
 
 For a moment he stopped to listen and stare 
 futilely into the blackness behind him. When 
 he turned to go on his heart stood still. A 
 shadow had loomed out of the night half a dozen 
 paces ahead of him, and before he could raise 
 his revolver the shadow was lightened by a sharp 
 flash of fire. Rowland staggered back, his 
 fingers loosening their grip on his pistol, and 
 as he crumpled down into the snow he heard over 
 him the hoarse voice that had urged on the dog 
 After that there was a space of silence, of black 
 ^hiv>s in which he neither reasoned nor lived, and 
 iher \here came to him faintly the sound of other 
 260
 
 IN THE BEDROOM CHAMBER 
 
 voices. Finally all of them were lost in one a 
 noaning, sobbing voice that was calling his name 
 igain and again, a voice that seemed to reach to 
 dm from out of an infinity of distance, and that 
 he knew was the voice of Meleese. He strove to 
 speak, to lift his arms, but his tongue was as 
 lead, his arms as though fettered with steel 
 bands. 
 
 The voice died away. He lived through a 
 cycle of speechless, painless night into which 
 finally a gleam of dawn returned. He felt as if 
 years were passing in his efforts to move, to lift 
 himself out of chaos. But at last he won. His 
 ^yes opened, he raised himself. His first sensa 
 tion was that he was no longer in the snow and 
 that the storm was not beating into his face. 
 Instead there encompassed him a damp dungeon- 
 like chill. Everywhere there was blackness 
 everywhere except in one spot, where a little yel 
 low eye of fire watched him and blinked at him. 
 At first he thought that the eye must be miles 
 and miles away. But it came quickly nearer**^ 
 261
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 and still nearer until at last he knew that it 
 was a candle burning with the silence of a deatb 
 taper a yard or two beyond his feet.
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 IT was the candle-light that dragged Rowland 
 quickly back into consciousness and pain. 
 He knew that he was no longer in the snow. His 
 fingers dug into damp earth as he made an effort 
 to raise himself, and with that effort it seemed as 
 though a red-hot knife had cleft him from the 
 top of his skull to his chest. The agony of that 
 instant s pain drew a sharp cry from him and 
 he clutched both hands to his head, waiting and 
 fearing. It did not come again and he sat up. 
 A hundred candles danced and blinked before 
 him like so many taunting eyes and turned him 
 dizzy with a sickening nausea. One by one the 
 lights faded away after that until there was left 
 jnly the steady glow of the real candle. 
 
 The fingers of Rowland s right hand were 
 isticky when he drew them away from his head. 
 263
 
 THE DANGER TRAIE 
 
 and he shivered. The tongue of flame leaping 
 out of the night, the thunderous report, the 
 deluge of fire that had filled his brain, all bore 
 their meaning for him now. It had been a close 
 call, so close that shivering chills ran irp and 
 down his spine as he struggled little by little to 
 lift himself to his knees. His enemy s shot had 
 grazed his head A quarter of an inch more, an 
 eighth of an inch even, and there would have 
 been no awakening. He closed his eyes for a few 
 moments, and when he opened them his vision 
 had gained distance. About him he made out 
 indistinctly the black encompassing walls of his 
 prison. 
 
 It seemed an interminable time before he could 
 rise and stand on his feet and reach the can 
 dle. Slowly he felt his way along the wall until 
 he came to a low, heavy door, barred from the 
 outside, and just beyond this door he found 
 a narrow aperture cut through the de<jaying 
 logs. It was a yard in length and barely wide 
 enough for him to thrust through an arm.
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 Three more of these narrow slits in his prison 
 walls he found before he came back again to the 
 door. They reminded him of the hole through 
 which he had looked out on the plague-stricken 
 cabin at the Maison de Mort Rouge, and he 
 guessed that through them came what little 
 fresh air found its way into the dungeon. 
 
 Near the table on which he replaced the candle 
 was a stool, and he sat down. Carefully he went 
 through his pockets. His belt and revolver were 
 gone. He had been stripped of letters and pa 
 pers. Not so much as a match had been left 
 him by his captors. 
 
 He stopped in his search and listened. Faintly 
 there came to him the ticking of his watch. He 
 felt in his watch pocket. It was empty. Again 
 he listened. This time he was sure that the sound 
 came from his feet and he lowered the candle 
 until the light of it glistened on something yel 
 low an arm s distance away. It was his watch, 
 and close beside it lay his leather wallet. What 
 money he had carried in the pocketbook was un- 
 265
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 touched t but his personal cards and half a dozen 
 papers that it had contained were gone. 
 
 He looked at the time. The hour hand pointed 
 Ijo four. Was it possible that he had been uncon- 
 Bcious for more than six hours? He had left 
 clean on the mountain top soon after nightfall 
 it was not later than nine o clock when he had 
 seen Meleese. Seven hours ! Again he lifted his 
 hands to his head. His hair was stiff and matted 
 with blood. It had congealed thickly on his 
 cheek and neck and had soaked the top of his 
 coat. He had bled a great deal, so much that 
 he wondered he was alive, and yet during those 
 hours his captors had given him no assistance, 
 had not even bound a cloth about his head. 
 
 Did they believe that the shot had killed him, 
 
 that he was already dead when they flung him 
 
 Into the dungeon ? Or was this only one other in- 
 
 itance of the barbaric brutishness of those who so 
 
 .nsistently sought his life? The fighting blood 
 
 rose in him with returning strength. If they 
 
 had left him a weapon, even the small knife they 
 
 266
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 had taken from his pocket, he would still make 
 an effort to settle a last score or two. But now 
 he was helpless. 
 
 There was, however, a ray of hope in the pos* 
 sibility that they believed him dead. If they who 
 had flung him into the dungeon believed this> then 
 he was safe for several hours. No one would come 
 for his body until broad day, and possibly not 
 until the following night, when a grave could be 
 dug and he could be carried out with some secrecy. 
 Irs that time, if he could escape from his prison, 
 he would be well on his way to the Wekusko. 
 He had no doubt that Jean was still a prisoner 
 on the mountain top. The dogs and sledge were 
 there and both rifles were where he had con 
 cealed them. It would be a hard race a run 
 ning fight perhaps but he would win, and after 
 a time Meleese would come to him, away down 
 at the little hotel on the Saskatchewan. 
 
 He rose to his feet, his blood growing warm, 
 his eyes shining in the candle-light. The 
 thought of the girl as she had come to him out 
 267
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 in the night put back into him all of his old 
 fighting strength, all of his unconquerable hope 
 and confidence. She had followed him when the 
 dog yelped at his heels, as the first shots had 
 been fired ; she had knelt beside him in the snow 
 as he lay bleeding at the feet of his enemies. He 
 had heard her voice calling to him, had felt the 
 thrilling touch of her arms, the terror and love 
 of her lips as she thought him dying. She had 
 given herself to him ; and she would come to him 
 his lady of the snows if he could escape. 
 
 He went to the door and shoved against it with 
 his shoulder. It was immovable. Again he thrust 
 his hand and arm through the first of the narrow 
 ventilating apertures. The wood with which his 
 fingers came in contact was rotting from moisture 
 and age and he found that he could tear out 
 handf uls of it. He fell to work, digging with the 
 fierce eagerness of an animal. At the rate the 
 soft pulpy wood gave way he could win his free 
 dom long before the earliest risers at the post 
 were awake. 
 
 268
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 A sound stopped him, a hollow cough from out 
 of the blackness beyond the dungeon wall. It 
 was followed an instant later by a gleam of light 
 and Howland darted quickly back to the table. 
 He heard the slipping of a bolt outside the door 
 and it flashed on him then that he should have 
 thrown himself back into his old position on the 
 floor. It was too late for this action now. The 
 door swung open and a shaft of light shot into 
 the chamber. For a space Howland was blinded 
 by it and it was not until the bearer of the lamp 
 had advanced half-way to the table that he recog 
 nized his visitor as Jean Croisset. The French 
 man s face was wild and haggard. His eyes 
 gleamed red and bloodshot as he stared at the 
 engineer. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, I had hoped to find you dead," 
 he whispered huskily. 
 
 He reached up to hang the big oil lamp he 
 carried to a hook in the log ceiling, and How- 
 land sat amazed at the expression on his face. 
 Jean s great eyes gleamed like living coals from 
 269
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 out of a death-mask. Either fear or pain had 
 wrought deep lines in his face. His hands 
 trembled as he steadied the lamp. The few hours 
 that had passed since Howland had left him a 
 prisoner on the mountain top had transformed 
 him into an old man. Even his shoulders were 
 hunched forward with an air of weakness and 
 despair as he turned from the lamp to the en 
 gineer. 
 
 "I had hoped to find you dead, M seur, * ue re 
 peated in a voice so low it could not have been 
 heard beyond the door. "That is why I did not 
 bind your wound and give you water when they 
 turned you over to my care. I wanted you to 
 bleed to death. It would have been easier for 
 both of us." 
 
 From under the table he drew forth a second 
 stool and sat down opposite Howland. The two 
 pen stared at each other over the sputtering rem 
 nant of the candle. Before the engineer had 
 recovered from his astonishment at the sudden 
 appearance of the man whom he believed to be 
 270
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 safely imprisoned in the old cabin, Croisset g 
 swifting eyes fell on the mass of torn wood under 
 Hie aperture. 
 
 "Too late, M seur," he said meaningly. "They 
 are waiting up there now. It is impossible for 
 you to escape." 
 
 "That is what I thought about you," replied 
 Rowland, forcing himself to speak coolly. "How 
 did you manage it?" 
 
 "They came up to free me soon after they got 
 you, M seur. I am grateful to you .for thinking 
 of me, for if you had not told them I might have 
 stayed there and starved like a beast in a trap." 
 
 "It was Meleese," said Howland. "I told her." 
 
 Jean dropped his head in his hands. 
 
 "I have just come from Meleese," he whis 
 pered softly. "She sends you her love, M seur, 
 and tells you not to give up hope. The great 
 God, if she only knew if she only knew what ii 
 about to happen! No one has told her. She is 
 a prisoner in her room, and after that after 
 that out on the plain when she came to you and 
 271
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 fought like one gone mad to save you they wifl 
 not give her freedom until all is over. What time 
 is it, M seur?" 
 
 A clammy chill passed over Rowland as he 
 read the time. 
 
 "Half-past four." 
 
 The Frenchman shivered; his fingers clasped 
 and unclasped nervously as he leaned nearer his 
 companion. 
 
 "The Virgin bear me witness that I wish I 
 might strike ten years off my life and give you 
 freedom," he breathed quickly. "I would do it 
 this instant, M seur. I would help you to escapts 
 if it were in any way possible. But they are in 
 the room at the head of the stair waiting. 4t 
 six" 
 
 Something seemed to choke him and he 
 stopped. 
 
 "At six what then?" urged Howland. "My 
 God, man, what makes you look so? What is to 
 happen at six?" 
 
 Jean stiffened. A flash of the old fire gleamed 
 272
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 in his eyes, and his voice was steady and cleaf 
 when he spoke again. 
 
 "I have no time to lose in further talk like this, 
 M seur," he said almost harshly. "They know 
 now that it was I who fought for you and for 
 Meleese on the Great North Trail. They know 
 that it is I who saved you at Wekusko. Meleese 
 can no more save me than she can save you, and 
 to make my task a little harder they have made 
 me their messenger, and " 
 
 Again he stopped, choking for words. 
 
 "What?" insisted Howland, leaning toward 
 him, his face as white as the tallow in the little 
 dish on the table. 
 
 "Their executioner, M seur." 
 
 With his hands gripped tightly on the table 
 in front of him Jack Howland sat as rigid as 
 though an electric shock had passed through 
 him. 
 
 "Great God !" he gasped. 
 
 "First I am to tell you a story, M seur," con 
 tinued Croisset, leveling his reddened eyes tc the 
 273
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 engineer s. "It will not be long, and I pray the 
 Virgin to make you understand it as we people 
 of the North understand it. It begins sixteer 
 years ago." 
 
 "I shall understand, Jean," whispered How- 
 land. "Goon." 
 
 "It was at one of the company s posts that it 
 happened," Jean began, "and the story has to do 
 with Le M seur, the Factor, and his wife, L Ange 
 Blanc that is what she was called, M seur the 
 White Angel. M on Dieu, how we loved her ! Not 
 with a wicked love, M seur, but with something 
 very near to that which we give our Blessed Vir 
 gin. And our love was but a pitiful thing when 
 compared with the love of these two, each for 
 the other. She was beautiful, gloriously beauti 
 ful as we know women up in the big snows ; like 
 Meleese, who was the youngest of their children. 
 
 "Ours was the happiest post in all this greaf 
 
 northland, M seur," continued Croisset after a 
 
 moment s pause ; "and it was all because of this 
 
 woman and the man, but mostly because of the 
 
 274
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 won,.**.. And when the little Meleese came she 
 was the first white girl baby that any of us had 
 ;ver seen our love for these two became some 
 thing that I fear was almost a sacrilege to our 
 dear Lady of God. Perhaps you can not under 
 stand such a love, M seur ; I know that it can not 
 be understood down in that world which you call 
 civilization, for I have been there and have seen. 
 We would have died for the little Meleese, and 
 the other Meleese, her mother. And also, M seur. 
 we would have killed our own brothers had they 
 as much as spoken a word against them or cast 
 at the mother even as much as a look which was 
 not the purest. That is how we loved her sixteen 
 years ago this winter, M seur, and that is how 
 we love her memory still." 
 
 "She is dead," uttered Howland, forgetting in 
 these tense moments the significance Jean s story 
 might hold for him. 
 
 "Yes ; she is dead. M seur, shall I tell you hoitf 
 she died?" 
 
 Croisset sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing, 
 275
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 his lithe body twitching like a wolfs as he stood 
 for an instant half leaning over the engineer. 
 
 "Shall I tell you how she died, M seur?" h< 
 repeated, falling back on his stool, his long arms 
 stretched over the table. "It happened like this, 
 sixteen years ago, when the little Meleese was 
 four years old and the oldest of the three sons 
 was fourteen. That winter a man and his boy 
 came up from Churchill. He had letters from the 
 Factor at the Bay, and our Factor and his wife 
 opened their doors to him and to his son, and 
 gave them all that it was in their power to give. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, this man was from that glorious 
 civilization of yours, M seur from that land to 
 the south where they say that Christ s temples 
 stand on every four corners, but he could not un 
 derstand the strange God and the strange laws of 
 our people ! For months he had been away from 
 the companionship of women, and in this greai 
 wilderness the Factor s wife came into his life as 
 the flower blossoms in the desert. Ah, M seur, I 
 can see now how his wicked heart strove to ac- 
 276
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 complish the things, and how he failed because 
 the glory of our womanhood up here has come 
 straight down from Heaven. And in failing he 
 went mad mad with that passion of the race I 
 have seen in Montreal, and then ah, the Great 
 God, M seur, do you not understand what hap 
 pened next ?" 
 
 Croisset lifted his head, his face twisted in a 
 torture that was half grief, half madness, and 
 stared at Howland, with quivering nostrils and 
 heaving chest. In his companion s face he saw 
 only a dead white pallor of waiting, of half com 
 prehension. He leaned over the table again, con 
 trolling himself by a mighty effort. 
 
 "It was at that time when most of us were out 
 among the trappers, just before our big spring 
 caribou roast, when the forest people came in 
 with their furs, M seur. The post was almost de 
 serted. Do you understand? The woman was 
 alone in her cabin with the little Meleese and 
 when we came back at night she was dead. Yes, 
 M seur, she killed herself, leaving a few written 
 277
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 to the Factor telling him what had hap- 
 
 "The man and the boy escaped on a sledge 
 after the crime. Mon Dieu, how the forest people 
 leaped in pursuit ! Runners carried the word ovei 
 the mountains and through the swamps, and a 
 hundred sledge parties searched the forest trails 
 for the man-fiend and his son. It was the Factor 
 himself and his youngest boy who found them, 
 far out on the Churchill trail. And what hap 
 pened then, M seur? Just this: While the man- 
 fiend urged on his dogs the son fired back with a 
 rifle fc and one of his bullets went straight through 
 the heart of the pursuing Factor, so that in the 
 space of one day and one night the little Meleese 
 was made both motherless and fatherless by these 
 two whom the devil had sent to destroy the most 
 beautiful thing we have ever known in this 
 North. Ah, M seur, you turn white! Does it 
 bring a vision to you now? Do you hear the 
 crack of that rifle ? Can you see " 
 
 "My God!" gasped Rowland. Even now h 
 278
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 understood nothing of what this tragedy jnighi 
 mean to him forgot everything but that he was 
 listening to the terrible tragedy that had come 
 to the woman who was the mother of the girl he 
 loved. He half rose from his seat as Croisset 
 paused; his eyes glittered, his death-white face 
 was set in tense fierce lines, his finger-nails dug 
 into the board table, as he demanded, "What 
 happened then, Croisset?" 
 
 Jean was eying him like an animal. His voice 
 was low. 
 
 "They escaped, M seur." 
 
 With a deep breath Howland sank back. In a 
 moment he leaned again toward Jean as he saw 
 come into the Frenchman s eyes a slumbering fire 
 that a few seconds later blazed into vengeful ma 
 lignity when he drew slowly from an inside 
 pocket of his coat a small parcel wrapped and 
 tied in soft buckskin. 
 
 "They have sent you this, M seur," he said. 
 " At the very last, they told me, let him read 
 this. " 
 
 279
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 With his eyes on the parcel, scarcely breath 
 ing, Rowland waited while with exasperating 
 slowness Croisset s brown fingers untied the cord 
 that secured it. 
 
 "First you must understand what this meant 
 to us in the North, M seur," said Jean, his hands 
 covering the parcel after he had finished with the 
 cord. "We are different who live up here differ 
 ent from those who live in Montreal, and beyond. 
 With us a lifetime is not too long to spend in 
 avenging a cruel wrong. It is our honor of the 
 North. I was fifteen then, and had been fostered 
 by the Factor and his wife since the day my 
 mother died of the smallpox and I dragged my 
 self into the post, almost dead of starvation. So 
 it happened that I was like a brother to Meleese 
 and the other three. The years passed, and the 
 desire for vengeance grew in us as we became 
 older, until it was the one thing that we most de 
 sired in life, even filling the gentle heart of Me- 
 ieese, whom we sent to school in Montreal when 
 she was eleven, M seur. It was three years later 
 280
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 -Awhile she was still in Montreal that I went 
 oii one of my wandering searches to a post at the 
 head of the Great Slave, and there, M seur 
 there" 
 
 Croisset had risen. His long arms were 
 stretched high, his head thrown back, his up 
 turned face aflame with a passion that was al 
 most that of prayer. 
 
 "M seur, I thank the great God in Heaveii 
 that it was given to Jean Croisset to meet one of 
 those whom we had pledged our lives to find and 
 I slew him !" 
 
 He stood silent, eyes partly closed, still as if in 
 prayer. When he sank into his chair again the 
 look of hatred had gone from his face. 
 
 "It was the father, and I killed him, M seur 
 killed him slowly, telling him of what he had done 
 as I choked the life from him ; and then, a littl* 
 at a time, I let the life back into him, forcing hint 
 to tell me where I would find his son, the slayer of 
 Meleese s father. And after that I closed on his 
 throat until he was dead, and my dogs dragged 
 28T
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 his body through three hundred miles of snow 
 that the others might look on him and know that 
 be was dead. That was six years ago, M seur." 
 
 Rowland was scarcely breathing. 
 
 "And the other the son " he whispered 
 tensely. "You found him, Croisset? You killed 
 him?" 
 
 **What would you have done, M seur ?" 
 
 Rowland s hands gripped those that guarded 
 the little parcel. 
 
 "I would have killed him, Jean." 
 
 He spoke slowly, deliberately. 
 
 "I would have killed him," he repeated. 
 
 "I am glad of that, M seur." 
 
 Jean was unwrapping the buckskin, fold after 
 fold of it, until at last there was revealed a roll 
 of paper, soiled and yellow along the edges. 
 
 "These pages are taken from the day-book at 
 the post where the woman lived," he explained 
 joftly, smoothing them under his hands. "Each 
 day the Factor of a post keeps a reckoning of 
 incidents as they pass, as I have heard that sea 
 282
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 captains do on shipboard. It has been a com 
 pany law for hundreds of years. We have kept 
 these pages to ourselves, M seur. They tell of 
 v^hat happened at our post sixteen years ago this 
 winter." 
 
 As he spoke the half-breed came to Howland 7 ** 
 side, smoothing vhe first page on the table in 
 front of him, hia blim forefinger pointing to the 
 first few lines. 
 
 
 
 "They came on this day," he said, his breath 
 close to the engineer s ear. "These are their 
 names, M seur the najftes of the two who de 
 stroyed the paradise that our Blessed Lady gave 
 to us many years ago." 
 
 In an instant Rowland kad read the lines. His 
 blood seemed to dry in his veins and his heart to 
 stand still. For these were the words he read; 
 "On this day there came to our post, from the 
 Churchill way, John Howland and his son." 
 
 With a sharp cry he sprang to his feet, over 
 turning the stool, facing Croisset, his hands 
 clenched, his lrdy bent as if about to spring.
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Jean stood calmly, his white teeth agleam. Then, 
 slowly, he stretched out a hand. 
 
 "M seur John Rowland, will you read what 
 happened to the father and mother of the little 
 Meleese sixteen years ago? Will you read, and 
 understand why your life was sought on the 
 Great North Trail, why you were placed on a 
 case of dynamite in the Wekusko coyote, and 
 why, with the coming of this morning s dawn 
 at six" 
 
 He paused, shivering. Rowland seemed not to 
 notice the tremendous effort Croisset was making 
 to control himself. With the dazed speechless- 
 ness of one recovering from a sudden blow he 
 turned to the table and bent over the papers that 
 the Frenchman had laid out before him. Five 
 minutes later he raised his head. His face was as 
 white as chalk. Deep lines had settled about his 
 mouth. As a sick man might, he lifted his hand 
 and passed it over his face and through his hair. 
 But his eves were afire. Involuntarily Jean s body 
 gathered itself as if to meet attack. 
 284
 
 JEAN S STORY 
 
 * I have read it," he said huskily, as though the 
 speaking of the words caused him a great effort. 
 "I understand now. My name is John Rowland, 
 And my father s name was John Howland. I un 
 derstand." 
 
 There was silence, in which the eyes of the two 
 men met. 
 
 "I understand," repeated the engineer, ad 
 vancing a step. "And you, Jean Croisset do 
 you believe that I am that John Howland the 
 John Howland the son who " 
 
 He stopped, waiting for Jean to comprehend, 
 to speak. 
 
 "M seur, it makes no difference what I believe 
 now. I have but one other thing to tell you here 
 and one thing to give to you," replied Jean. 
 "Those who have tried to kill you are the three 
 brothers. Meleese is their sister. Ours is a 
 strange country, M seur, governed since the be 
 ginning of our time by laws which we have mad 
 ourselves. To those who are waiting above no 
 torture is too great for you. They have con- 
 285
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 demned you to death. This morning, exactly as 
 the minute hand of your watch counts off the 
 hour of six, you will be shot to death through 
 one of these holes in the dungeon walls. And 
 this this note from Meleese is the last thing I 
 have to give you." 
 
 He dropped a folded bit of paper on the table. 
 Mechanically Rowland reached for it. Stunned 
 and speechless, cold with the horror of his death 
 sentence, he smoothed out the note. There were 
 only a few words, apparently written in great 
 haste. 
 
 "I have been praying for you all night. If 
 God fails to answer my prayers I will still do as 
 I have promised and follow you. 
 
 "MELEESE." 
 
 He heard a movement and lifted his eyes. Jean 
 was gone. The door was swinging slowly in 
 ward. He heard the wooden bolt slip into place, 
 and after that there was not even the sound of a 
 moccasined foot stealing through the outer dark 
 ness. 
 
 288
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MELEESE 
 
 FOR many minutes Rowland stood waiting a8 
 if life had left him. His eyes were on the 
 door, but unseeing. He made no sound, no move 
 ment again toward the aperture in the wall. Fate 
 had dealt him the final blow, and when at last 
 he rocsed himself from its first terrible effect 
 there remained no glimmering of hope in his 
 breast, no thought of the battle he had been mak 
 ing for freedom a short time before. The note 
 fluttered from his fingers and he drew his watch 
 from his pocket and placed it on the table. It was 
 a quarter after five. There still remained forty- 
 five minutes. 
 
 Three-quarters of an hour and then death. 
 
 There was no doubt in his mind this time. Evei 
 
 in the coyote, with eternity staring him in the 
 
 face, he had hoped and fought for life. But here 
 
 287
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 there was no hope, there was to be no fighting. 
 Through one of the black holes in the wall he was 
 to be shot down, with no chance to defend him 
 self, to prove himself innocent. And Meleese 
 did she, too, believe him guilty of that crime ? 
 
 He groaned aloud, and picked up the note 
 again. Softly he repeated her last words to him : 
 " T r God fails to answer my prayers I will still do 
 as I have promised, and follow you." Those 
 words seemed to cry aloud his doom. Even Me 
 leese had given up hope. And yet, was there not 
 a deeper significance in her words ? He started as 
 if some one had struck him, his eyes agleam. 
 
 "7 will follow you. " 
 
 He almost sobbed the words this time. His 
 hands trembled and he dropped the paper again 
 on the table and turned his eyes in staring horror 
 toward the door. What did she mean? Would 
 Meleese kill herself if he was murdered by her 
 brothers? He could see no other meaning in her 
 last message to him, and for a time after the 
 chilling significance of her words struck his heart 
 288
 
 MELEESE 
 
 hi scarce restrained himself from calling aloud 
 for Jean. If he could but send a word back to 
 her, tell her once more of his great love that 
 the winning of that love was ample reward for all 
 that he had lost and was about to lose, and that it 
 gave him such happiness as he had never known 
 even in this last hour of his torture ! 
 
 Twice he shouted for Croisset, but there came 
 no response save the hollow echoings of his own 
 voice in the subterranean chambers. After that 
 he began to think more sanely. If Meleese was a 
 prisoner in her room it was probable that Crois 
 set, who was now fully recognized as a traitor at 
 the post, could no longer gain access to her. In 
 some secret way Meleese had contrived to give 
 him the note, and he had performed his last mis 
 sion for her. 
 
 In Rowland s breast there grew slowly a feel 
 ing of sympathy for the Frenchman. Much that 
 he had not understood was clear to him now. He 
 understood why Meleese had not revealed the 
 names of his assailants at Prince Albert and We- 
 289
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 KO Jbe understood why she had fled from hi 
 after hk abduction, and why Jean had so faith 
 fully kept secrecy for her sake. She had foughl 
 to save him from her own flesh and blood, am 
 Jean had fought to save him, and in these last 
 minutes of his life he would liked to have had 
 Croisset with him that he might have taken hie 
 hand and thanked him for what he had done. 
 And because he had fought for him and Meleese 
 the Frenchman s fate was to be almost as terrible 
 as his own. It was he who would fire the fatal 
 shot at six o clock. Not the brothers, but Jean 
 Croisset, would be his executioner and murderer. 
 The minutes passed swiftly, and as they went 
 Howland was astonished . to find how coolly he 
 awaited the end. He even began to debate with 
 himself as to through which hole the fatal shof 
 would be fired. No matter where he stood he was 
 in the light of the big hanging lamp. There wa 
 no obscure or shadowy corner in which for a few 
 moments he might elude his executioner. He 
 even smiled when the thought occurred tn hjn> 
 290
 
 MELEESE 
 
 tJiat it was possible to extinguish the light and 
 crawl under the table, thus gaining a momentary 
 delay. But what would that delay avail him? He 
 was anxious for the fatal minute to arrive, and 
 be over. 
 
 There were moments of happiness when in 
 the damp horror of his death-chamber there 
 came before him visions of Meleese, grown even 
 sweeter and more lovable, now that he knew how 
 she had sacrificed herself between two great loves 
 the love of her own people and the love of him 
 self. And at last she had surrendered to him. 
 Was it possible that she could have made that 
 surrender if she, like her brothers, believed him 
 to be the murderer of her father the son of the 
 man-fiend who had robbed her of a mother? It 
 was impossible, he told himself. She did not be- 
 ilieve him guilty. And yet why had she not 
 given him some such word in her last message 
 to him? 
 
 His eyes traveled to the note on the table and 
 Ihe began searching in his coat pockets. In one of 
 291
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 them he found the worn stub of a pencil, and for 
 many minutes after that he was oblivious to the 
 passing of time as he wrote his last words to 
 Meleese. When he had finished he folded the pa 
 per and placed it under his watch. At the finaJ 
 moment, before the shot was fired, he would asl 
 Jean to take it. His eyes fell on his watch dial 
 and a cry burst from his lips. 
 
 It lacked but ten minutes of the final hour ! 
 
 Above him he heard faintly the sharp barking 
 of dogs, the hollow sound of men s voices. A 
 moment later there came to him an echo as of 
 swiftly tramping feet, and after that silence. 
 
 "Jean," he called tensely. "Ho, Jean Jean 
 Croisset " 
 
 He caught up the paper and ran from one 
 black opening to another, calling the French 
 man s name. 
 
 "As you love your God, Jean, as you have t 
 hope of Heaven, take this note to Meleese!" ht 
 pleaded. "Jean Jean Croisset " 
 
 There came no answer, no movement outside, 
 292
 
 MELEESE 
 
 and Rowland stilled the beating of his heart to 
 listen. Surely Croisset was there! He looked 
 *gain at the watch he held in his hand. In four 
 minutes the shot would be fired. A cold sweat 
 bathed hik face. He tried to cry out again, but 
 something rose in his throat and choked him until 
 his voice was only a gasp. He sprang back to the 
 table and placed the note once more under the 
 watch. Two minutes ! One and a half ! One ! 
 
 With a sudden fearless cry he sprang into the 
 very center of his prison, and flung out his arms 
 feith his face to the hole next the door. This time 
 nis ^oice was almost a shout. 
 
 "Jean Croisset, there is a note under my watch 
 on the table. After you have killed me take it to 
 Meleese. If you fail I shall haunt you to your 
 grave !" 
 
 Still no sound no gleam of steel pointing at 
 aim through the black aperture. Would the shot 
 come from behind? 
 
 Tick tick tick tick 
 
 He counted the beating of his watch up to 
 293
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 twenty,, A sound stopped him then, and he closed 
 his eyes, and a great shiver passed through his 
 body. 
 
 It was the tiny bell of his watch tinkling ofl 
 the hour of six ! 
 
 Scarcely had that sound ceased to ring in hii 
 brain when from far through the darkness be 
 yond the wall of his prison there came a creaking 
 noise, as if a heavy door had been swung slowly 
 on its hinges, or a trap opened then voices, low, 
 quick, excited voices, the hurrying tread of feet, 
 a flash of light shooting through the gloom. 
 They were coming ! After all it was not to be a 
 private affair, and Jean was to do his killing as 
 the hangman s job is done in civilization before 
 a crowd. Rowland s arms dropped to his side. 
 This was more terrible than the other this see 
 ing and hearing of preparation, in which he fan 
 cied that he heard the click of Croisset s gun a) 
 he lifted the hammer. 
 
 Instead it was a hand fumbling at the door. 
 There were no voices now, only a strange moan- 
 294
 
 MELEESE 
 
 ing sound that he could not account for. In an* 
 other moment it was made clear to him. The door 
 swung open, and the white-robed figure of Me- 
 icese sprang toward him with a cry that echoed 
 through the dungeon chambers. What happened 
 then the passing of white faces beyond the 
 doorway, the subdued murmur of voices, were all 
 lost to Howland in the knowledge that at the last 
 moment they had let her come to him, that he held 
 her in his arms, and that she was crushing her 
 face to his breast and sobbing things to him 
 which he could not understand. Once or twice in 
 his life he had wondered if realities might not be 
 dreams, and the thought came to him now when 
 he felt the warmth of her hands, her face, her 
 hair, and then the passionate pressure of her lips 
 on his own. He lifted his eyes, and in the door 
 way he saw Jean Croisset, and behind him a wild, 
 bearded face the face that had been over him 
 tfhen life was almost choked from him on the 
 Great North Trail. And beyond these two he 
 saw still others, shining ghostly and indistinct in 
 295
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 the deeper gloom of the outer darkness. He 
 strained Meleese to him, and when he looked down 
 into her face he saw her beautiful eyes flooded 
 with tears, and yet shining with a great joy. Hei 
 lips trembled as she struggled to speak. Ther 
 suddenly she broke from his arms and ran tc 
 the door, and Jean Croisset came between them, 
 with the wild bearded man still staring over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "M seur, will you come with us ?" said Jean. 
 
 The bearded man dropped back into the thick 
 gloom, and without speaking Rowland fallowed 
 Croisset, his eyes on the shadowy form of Me 
 leese. The ghostly faces turned from the light, 
 and the tread of their retreating feet marked the 
 passage through the blackness. Jean fell back 
 beside Howland, the huge bulk of the bearded 
 man three paces ahead. A dozen steps more anc 1 
 they came to a stair down which a light shone 
 The Frenchman s hand fell detainingly OD 
 Hcwland s arm, and when a moment later they 
 reached the top of the stairs all had disappeared 
 296
 
 MELEESE 
 
 but Jean and the bearded man. Dawn was break 
 ing, and a pale light fell through the two win 
 dows of the room they had entered. On a table 
 burned a lamp, and near the table were severa 
 chairs. To one of these Croisset motioned the en" 
 gineer, and as Rowland sat down the bearded 
 man turned slowly and passed through a door. 
 Jeun shrugged his shoulders as the other disap 
 peared. 
 
 "Mon Dieu, that means that he leaves it all to 
 me," he exclaimed. "I don t wonder that it is 
 hard for him to talk, M seur. Perhaps you have 
 begun to understand !" 
 
 "Yes, a little," replied Howland. His heart 
 was throbbing as if he had just finished climbing 
 a long hill. "That was the man who tried to kill 
 me. But Meleese the " He could go no fur 
 ther. Scarce breathing, he waited for Jean to 
 speak. 
 
 "It is Pierre Thoreau," he said, "eldest brothel 
 to Meleese. It is he who should say what I am 
 about to tell you, M seur. But he is too full of 
 297
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 grief to speak. You wonder at that? And yet 1 
 tell you that a man with a better soul than Pierre 
 Thoreau never lived, though three times he has 
 tried to kill you. Do you remember what you 
 asked me a short time ago, M seur if I thought 
 that you were the John Rowland who murdered 
 the father of Meleese sixteen years ago? God s 
 saints, and I did until hardly more than half an 
 hour ago, when some one came from the South 
 and exploded a mine under our feet. It was the 
 youngest of the three brothers. M seur we have 
 made a great mistake, and we ask your forgive 
 ness." 
 
 In the silence the eyes of the two men met 
 across the table. To Howland it was not the 
 thought that his life was saved that came with 
 the greatest force, but the thought of Meleese, 
 the knowledge that in that hour when all seemed 
 to be lost she was nearer to him than ever. He 
 leaned half over the table, his hands clenched, his 
 eyes blazing. Jean did not understand, for he 
 went on quickly. 
 
 298
 
 MELEESE 
 
 "I know it is hard, M seur. Perhaps it will be 
 impossible for you to forgive a thing like this. 
 We have tried to kill you kill you by a slow tor< 
 hire, as we thought you deserved. But think fof 
 a moment, M seur, of what happened up here six 
 teen years ago this winter. I have told you how 
 I choked life from the man-fiend. So I would have 
 choked life from you if it had not been for Me- 
 leese. I, too, am guilty. Only six ye^rs ago we 
 knew that the right John Howland trie son of 
 the man I slew was in Montreal, and we sent to 
 seek him this youngest brother, for he had 
 been a long time at school with Meleese and 
 knew the ways of the South better than the oth 
 ers. But he failed to find him at that time, and it 
 was only a short while ago that this brother lo 
 cated you. 
 
 "As Our Blessed Lady is my witness, M seur, 
 it is not strange that he should have taken yoi> 
 for the man we sought, for it is singular that yo\) 
 bear him out like a brother in looks, as I remenv 
 ber the boy. It is true that Fra^ois made a 
 299
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 great error when he sent word to his brothers 
 suggesting that if either Gregson or Thorne was 
 put out of the way you would probably be sent 
 into the North. I swear by the Virgin that Me- 
 leese knew nothing of this, M seur. She knew 
 nothing of the schemes by which her brothers 
 drove Gregson and Thorne back into the South. 
 They did not wish to kill them, and yet it was 
 necessary to do something that you might replace 
 one of them, M seur. They did not make a move 
 alone but that something happened. Gregson 
 lost a finger. Thorne was badly hurt as you 
 know. Bullets came through their window at 
 night. With Jackpine in their employ it was 
 easy to work on them, and it was not long before 
 they sent down asking for another man to replace 
 them." 
 
 For the first time a surge of anger swept 
 through Rowland. 
 
 "The cowards !" he exclaimed. "A pretty pair, 
 Croisset to crawl out from under a trap to let 
 another in at the top !" 
 
 300
 
 MELEESE 
 
 "Perhaps nob so bad as that," said Jean. 
 "They were given to understand that they and 
 they alone were not wanted in the country. H 
 may be that they did not think harm would com*. 
 to you, and so kept quiet about what had hap 
 pened. It may be, too, that they did not like to 
 have it known that they were running away from 
 danger. Is not that human, M seur? Anyway, 
 you were detailed to come, and not until then did 
 Meleese know of all that had occurred." 
 
 The Frenchman stopped for a moment. The 
 glare had faded from Rowland s eyes. The tense 
 lines in his face relaxed- 
 
 "I I believe I understand everything now, 
 Jean," he said. "You traced the wrong John 
 Rowland, that s all. I love Meleese, Jean. I 
 would kill j ohn Howland for her. I want to meet 
 her brothers and shake their hands. I don t blame 
 them. They re men. But, somehow, it hurts t< 
 think of her of Meleese as as almost a mur 
 derer." 
 
 "Mon Dieu t M seur, has she not i^re 
 301
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 lifeh Listen to this ! It was then when she knew 
 what had happened that Meleese came to me 
 idiom she had made the happiest man in the world 
 because it was she who brought my Mariane ovei 
 from Churchill on a visit especially that I might 
 see her and fall in love with her, M seur which 
 I did. Meleese came to me to Jean Croisset 
 and instead of planning your murder, M seur, 
 she schemed to save your life with me who 
 would have cut you into bits no larger than my 
 finger and fed you to the carrion ravens, who 
 would have choked the life out of you until your 
 eyes bulged in death, as I choked that one up oa 
 the Great Slave ! Do you understand, M seur ? It 
 was Meleese who came and pleaded with me to 
 save your life before you had left Chicago, be 
 fore she had heard more of you than your name, 
 before" 
 
 Croisset hesitated, and stopped. 
 
 "Be/ore what, Jean?" 
 
 "Before she had learned to love you, M seur/ 
 
 "God bless her !" exclaimed Rowland. 
 302
 
 MELEESE 
 
 believe this, M seur?" 
 
 "As I believe in a God." 
 
 "Then I will tell you what she did, M seur, * fa 
 ontinued in a low voice. "The plan of thl 
 brothers was to make you a prisoner near Prince 
 Albert and bring you north. I knew what was to 
 happen then. It was to be a beautiful vengeance, 
 M seur a slow torturing death on the spot 
 where the crime was committed sixteen years ago. 
 But Meleese knew nothing of this. She was made 
 to believe that up here, where the mother and fa 
 ther died, you would be given over to the proper 
 law to the mounted police who come this way 
 now and then. She is only a girl, M seur, easily 
 made to believe strange things in such matters 
 as these, else she would have wondered why you 
 were not given to the officers in Prince Albert. It 
 was the eldest brother who thought of her as 9 
 lure to bring you out of the town int(r theij 
 hands, and not until the last moment, when the} 
 were ready to leave for the South, did she over* 
 hear words that aroused her suspicions that thej
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 were about to kill you. It was then, M seur, tha* 
 he came to me." 
 "And you, Jean ?" 
 
 "On the day that Mariane promised to become 
 my wife, M seur, I promised in Our Blessed 
 Lady s name to repay my debt to Meleese, and 
 the manner of payment came in this fashion. 
 Jackpine, too, was her slave, and so we worked 
 together. Two hours after Meleese and her 
 brothers had left for the South I was following 
 them, shaven of beard and so changed that I was 
 not recognized in the fight on the Great North 
 Trail. Meleese thought that her brothers woul^ 
 make you a prisoner that night without harming 
 you. Her brothers told her how to bring you to 
 their camp. She knew nothing of the ambush un 
 til they leaped on you from cover. Not unti? 
 after the fight, when in their rage at your escape 
 the Brothers told her that they had inteQded tc 
 kill you, did she realize fully what she had done. 
 That is all, M seur. You know what happened 
 after that. She dared not tell you at 
 304
 
 MELEESE 
 
 tfho your enemies were, for those enemies were of 
 her own flesh and blood, and dearer to her than 
 life. She was between two great loves, M seur 
 the love for her brothers and " 
 
 Again Jean hesitated. 
 
 "And her love for me," finished Howland. 
 
 "Yes, her love for you, M seur." 
 
 The two men rose from the table, and for a 
 moment stood with clasped hands in the smoky 
 light of lamp and dawn. In that moment neither 
 heard a tap at the door leading to the room be 
 yond, nor saw the door move gently inward, and 
 Meleese, hesitating, framed in the opening. 
 
 It was Howland who spoke first. 
 
 "I thank God that all these things have hap 
 pened, Jean," he said earnestly. "I am glad that 
 for a time you took me for that other John How- 
 land, and that Pierre. Thoreau and his brothers 
 Schemed to kill me at Prince Albert and We- 
 kusko, for if these things had not occurred as 
 they have I would never have seen Meleese. Anc* 
 now, Jean " 
 
 305
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 Hi ears caught sound of movement and IA 
 turned in tkne to see Meleese slipping quietly out 
 
 "Meleese !" he called softly. "Meleese !" 
 
 In an instant he had darted after her, leaving 
 Jean beside the table. Beyond the door there was 
 only the breaking gloom of the gray morning. 
 but it was enough for him to see faintly the fig 
 ure of the girl he loved, half turned, half waiting 
 for him. With a cry of joy he sprang forward 
 ind gathered her close in his arms. 
 
 "Meleese my Meleese " he whispered. 
 
 After that there came no sound from the 
 dawn-lit room beyond, but Jean Croisset, still 
 standing by the table, murmured softly to him 
 self: "Our Blessed Lady be praised, for it is ail 
 as Jean Croisset would have it and DOW I can go 
 to my Mariane !" 
 
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