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Show .-voices Jk GE0RGE MARSH f'i JfXtCivt AUTHOR. OF ifHsMMW W " TOILERS OF THE TRAIL 'rf ' AflMV "THE WHELPS OF THE WOLF "nIrt. !wlvJCPYR'GHT PNN PUBLISHING C0- It was not Ions before the potent spirits asserted themselves In the Frenchman's manner, which grew appreciably ap-preciably warmer. "Monsieur Steele," he said, "you doubtless ask yourself why I, a retired re-tired colonel, In the army of France, should find myself a trader of fur for the Revillon Freres in Canada should have brought a girl, educated, refined, to" this wilderness?" "It was, of course, a surprise, sir, to find a woman of the charm of the remarkable musical talent of your daughter here. In this valley. It Is marvelous her playing. She should have a career, sir." "Yes. a career!" echoed St. Onge, as he poured himself another drink, "and she has lost it, lost It because she would not leave me." The liquor had aged the once handsome hand-some face of St. Onge. Lines multiplied multi-plied about the eyes and mouth as he slouched In his chaif. All trace of the soldier had vanished; In his place sat a man, broken conquered by Ill'e. "You have not been in Canada long?" Steele ventured, hoping that the Frenchman would now talk more, freely. "Four years. I was a year at Albany Al-bany at school, you might say, learning learn-ing the ways of the trade. Then they sent me here." "You found It hard thbj life In the North after France?" The factor straightened In his chair. His dark eyes snapped. His face stiffened. He looked the leader of men. "Hard, monsieur? I have faced trade, but that Is the truth," went or the factor. "But for what reason, sir?- St. Onge shook with emotion. "Because "Be-cause that canaille at Albany desires to marry my daughter!" Steele wondered, now, why he had not guessed. Of course, the failure of St. Onge as a trader would put him into the hands of his superior at Albany, Al-bany, so he had been sent to the doomed fur post on the Wailing. "You will leave the company, then?" he hazarded, sick with thoughts of the girl who was the stake In this mad game of Lascelles. "I must, if I fall here. Up to this year, I have beaten him, in spite of the odds shown a small profit. And this year, at Portage Lake, we had a good trade better than ever before in spite of Laflamme. But the loss of this fur canoe destroys our four years' profits. Monsieur, I am a ruined man." There was little Steele could say. For a space St. Onge walked the floor with his bitter thoughts, then he began: be-gan: "We have been a proud family, the St. Onges. My grandfather fought under un-der the great Napoleon. My father was killed at Sedan. We have always been soldiers, bearing an honored name, but I, the last, am unworthy of It. Cards and this." pointing to the bottle, "have done it. They lost me my old home In Touraine; my poor wife died while I was deep in the Sahara, Sa-hara, at Lake Tchad. She is all I have left Denise." The voice of St. Onge softened as he spoke of his daughter. Then he finished fiercely: "Give her to that bourgeois? Never I" Conscious of the fact that the voice of the enraged factor carried to the remotest corner of the house, the embarrassed em-barrassed Steele rose to check further revelations which could prove only a source of pain and mortification to the girl who heard them. "It Is very late, sir we may be disturbing dis-turbing your daughter," and he offered his hand with a "good-night !" when the pat of moccasins drew the attention atten-tion of both men. Clothed in a loose garment, caught at the waist by a Cree sash, her wayward way-ward hair In a great coil at the nape of her neck, Denise St. Onge stood in the doorway. She was a figure of peculiar pe-culiar beauty and dignity as she calmly calm-ly said : "Father, Monsieur Steele doubtless desires to rest alter his long journey. It Is late." St. Onge pulled himself together. "Pardon me, monsieur, you are tired. Good-night." Red with confusion, Steele met the level eyes of the girl who had heard her personal affairs so intimately discussed dis-cussed with a stranger, and marveled to find there no humiliation, no anger, as he murmured a good night and sought his room. There, for a time, he sat smoking, as he watched the moon drift down to the purple ridge beyond the river. His thoughts traversed the events of the day ; the meeting with Denise St. Onge ; the news of the loss of the fur canoe and the panic of the post Indians In-dians ; the startling revelation by the factor of what the future might hold for him and the girl downstairs. As for this fur canoe St. Onge was palpably pal-pably holding back something there. But what? And his daughter had he told the whole story? Could it be that she had already bound herself to Lascelles, to save her father? That would account for the heartache, but not for the fear he had seen In her eyes at the rapids. Fear of whom? Would the old soldier, in spite of his protestations, allow her to sacrifice herself? This Windigo matter what a rare chance for a first-hand study of the Ojibway superstition ! What a monograph, it would make for the museum 1 There was certainly much to do here until they were forced to race the ice down to Nepigon. Steele undressed and was soon asleep. Presently, from a dream In which timber wolves in full cry were running an old caribou across a frozen lake, he waked to find himself sitting upright in his cot. Across the valley floated a low wail. The man stirred. For a space the hush of the forest night returned. Then from the somber som-ber shoulder of the ridge rose sobbing as of a creature in torment. Wide awake now, nerves tingling, Steele sprang to the window. The. voice ceased. The man waited, expectant. ex-pectant. Was it a trick of his senses, had he d reamed it, or Then the eerie wail filled the night with horror, hor-ror, rising in wild crescendo to climax in a demoniacal shriek. The brain of the excited and mystified mys-tified man at the window was working swiftly. "Lynx," he muttered, "No! Wolverine? No, not at this time of the year. Wolf? Impossible!" Then his mouth shaped a grim smile. "Thj Windigo !" I Apparently the Windigo is I performing for Steele's benefit. What can the thing be? (TO BE CONTINUED.) THE WINDIGO SYNOPSIS. With David, half-breed half-breed guide, Brent Steele, of the American Museum of Natural History, His-tory, Is traveling in northern . " Canada. By a stream he hears Denise, daughter of Col. Hllalre St. Onge, factor at Walling River, play the violin superbly. He Introduces In-troduces himself and accepts an Invitation to make the post his home during his stay. He finds the factor worried and mystified. The "log chateau" is a real home. From St. Onge he learns of the mysterious creature of evil, the windigo, and the disappearance of a canoe and its crew, with the season's take of furs. CHAPTER II Continued A She shook her head, wistfully. "At the Conservatoire they had planned for me a career, but father was coming com-ing out to Canada and I could not have him come alone." "She was the favorite pupil of the great Mario," announced St., Onge, proudly, "but her love for her old father fa-ther could not suffer a separation, so she is sharing with me " the Frenchman French-man rose and nervously paced the room, then, with a gesture of hopelessness, hope-lessness, finished, "the loneliness and the hell of this spirit-ridden valley." Steele's eyes were on the Une profile of the girl as she followed her father's nervous pacing. Frankly Ignoring his presence, she made no effort to conceal con-ceal the solicitude pictured by her sensitive face. What a sacrtlce she had made ! To give up career, life all that people, cities, civilization mean to the artist how could St. Onge have permitted It? What a tragedy trag-edy he had stumbled on at Wailing River I "I've told David he could go down the river with Michel, sir," Steele hastened to change a too painful subject. sub-ject. "They will find nothing, monsieur." "Has Michel told you exactly what they are going to look for, Colonel St. Onge?" The factor stopped his pacing. "Why, what Is there to seek, monsieur, except the evidence which has escaped es-caped us?" "Based on a familiarity with the way David's mind works, coupled with an Idea of my own, my guess Is that they will not spend much time following follow-ing the shore." St. Onge's black eyebrows lifted In surprise. "What do you mean ; they are going Into the back country?" "Precisely." "What for?" "To find a trail!" "A trail through the muskeg? But they couldn't get out that way. A trail leading where?" "That's what puzzles me, colonel " "Oh, you are wrong ! My men never stole that fur. We shall find something some-thing yet to prove they were broken up in the big rapid " "And- then, father, It may be too late," added the low voice of Denise St. Onge. The bronzed face of the old soldier noticeably reddened at the remark, but he avoided his daughter's eyes. It was Greek to Steele this innuendo, innuen-do, ami besides, he was hungry for music, "l'lease, mademoiselle, just a little more if you are not too tired," he t egged. But the gay mood was not to he recaptured. re-captured. She shook her head, put aside her how and violin, and with chin In hand sat with hrooding eyes on the bearskin rug at her feet. As the factor talked of the trade, the glance of his guest shifted constantly to the masses of the girl's hair, stray tendrils ten-drils of which caught and held the light of the candles: to the hand of the artist, with lis tapering lingers, which masked her check ; to the trim foot, In the house moccasin, and rounded ankle; and within him was born the determination to help this girl In her secret trouhle. If the aid of a stranger wore, possible. Shortly, with a few words; of apology, apol-ogy, she bade them good night. With a sigh, as she left the room, the factor went to a cupboard and produced a bottle and two glasses. "You will honor me. monsieur, by Joining me In a glass of cognac? This, and the books, I insisted on having hav-ing If I were to be exiled to this valley." val-ley." Steele poured himself a modest drink. "Tt Is not right, colonel, that you should squander this good stulT upon me. In n few weeks I shall be in New York, while your supply is limited." "It Is not wasted if appreciated," protested St. Onge. "but I fear you have a suspicion of it ; you have hardly hard-ly a taste there," and he deliberately filled his own glass, and raising it witn the toast, "Your health, monsieur, mon-sieur, and the devil take the Windigo and their friends!" swallowed the branay. She Shook Her Head Wistfully. hardship all my life In Algeria, Senegal, Sene-gal, the Sahara. It's not the hardship here, it's the humiliation, for one who has led his regiment of cavalry in two Moroccan campaigns, to receive the orders or-ders of a former sous-lieutenant." "You mean Lascelles, at Albany?" "Y'es!" St. Onge was patently laboring la-boring under strong excitement. It seemed to Steele that a revelation was imminent, hut the factor turned to the bottle. "Monsieur," he protested, "you do not flatter my cognac !" "I am enjoying it, sir," replied Steele, pouring himself a drink to humor his host, to which he added water, for the brandy was powerful. That the cognac habit was an old "story with St. Onge was evident, and the younger man wondered what relation a fondness for strong liquor had to St. Onge's presence pres-ence in Canada. Then he opened abruptly ab-ruptly : "By keeping this post active, under the conditions here in tills valley, Lascelles Las-celles must have realized the chances lie took. I cannot understand a fur-trader fur-trader of judgment doing such a thing." " The face of the Frenchman hardened. hard-ened. "Why this post was built in this place, I do not know; but I do know why Lascelles sent me here." St. Onge leaned toward Steele as lie repeated bitterly. "lie sent me here tu ruin me." "To ruin you?" gasped the other. ''I don't understand. It is to his interest as an inspector that every post in his district should make a profit." Then he suddenly remembered the mysterious mysteri-ous statement of Michel. "M'sieu Lascelles Las-celles ees no fool ; he not keep eet for fur; he keep eet for noder reason." That explained it ; the head man know. "But why?" pressed the curious Steele. The factor rose and paced the floor, his hands working nervously. Turning impulsively to the man he had met but a few hours before, he exclaimed: "Why I am telling you this. I do not know. It is an aft'air the most private, but I am alone with my troubles and you are a gentleman a man of heart. You will understand." Steele tingled with expectancy. "It surprised you to hear that I was I sent here to make a failure of the I |