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Show I ' By GEORGE MARSH j 1 WKO Servlca Copyright by The Penn Publishing Co. STORY FROM THE START Garth Guthrie, Canadian war veteran, having to live in the open on account of weakened lungs, 13 factor of a Hudson's Bay post at Elk wan. He came back from the conflict with a permanently scarred face, which he realizes cost him the love of h's fiancee, Edith Falconer. Sir Charles Guthrie, his brother, is a millionaire war profiteer. CHAPTER I Continued 2 In the autumn Garth had beeD sent north with Etienne Savanne, a veteran servant of the company, to winter at the fur post at the mouth of the Elk-wan. Elk-wan. When the Christmas mail fro:n Albany was sighted on the white river trail, the mingled feelings with which Guthrie watched the approach of the dog-team bringing word from home from her were the cause of puzzled self-analysis through the months to follow. In July when he sailed into Fort Albany in his York boat with his fur packs, his year on the silent west coast was up The mail he found . waiting his arrival brought the news that he was now brother of Sir Charles Guthrie; announced the decision of Ethel and Clara for an August wedding wed-ding on the return of the exile: dwelt at length on the rise in Guthrie steel ; and disposed of his health In the casual surmise that It had been fully restored by the year in the open. The last had drawn a bitter smile from the man who read. Pages for the personal affairs of the writers, and a line for the lungs he had brought back from the Hun drive for the Channel Chan-nel ports. So they were waiting in Montreal, were they, for his return, to bend him to their petty ways shape him Into a business machine, like Charlie when he had breathed the stinging air off the Ice-fields of the bay; seen the caribou drift across nameless lakes at dawn; camped under un-der a canopy of stars while the aurora blazoned the north ; wakened to the raucous chorus of the Canadas and watched the "Wavies" rally their legions le-gions in the autumn? How blurred, after this, the once poignant memory of Ethel Falconer was growing! How petty seemed the obsession of Charles Guthrie for money and power to the man who had found in the peace of the west coast an opiate for his doubt and disillusion ! With no attempt at defense of his decision to rematn for another year, Guthrie wrote home, and without regret, re-gret, had sailed out of the delta of the great Albany with Etienne, bound for Elkwan. The man who had lain beside his sleeping dog with his thoughts while the wind roared through the alders, hammering the anchored tent, and the rain beat its intermittent tattoo, sat up, and placing the candle lantern at his elbow, drew a letter from his pocket and read : "Dearest Garth : "I don't know what to say I'm simply stunned. Either you are still 111 are deceiving us, or take this method to humiliate me before your family and the world in the hope that I shall voluntarily give you up. Of course, if you no longer love me, there Is nothing to be said. Do you love me still. Garth dear? So long as you do, I shall wait. "Devotedly until you wish It otherwise, other-wise, ETHEL." This had been her answer to the burning of his bridges utter abandonment aban-donment of her pride, and he had once thought her proud. Nevertheless, each new reading of the letter brought to Elkwan by the fall packet a fortnight before, had quickened the memory of what this girl, vibrant with life and physical charm, had meant to him this girl whom he had humiliated. Often, standing before her vivid likeness in his quarters he had gazed at the alluring allur-ing face, the faultless modeling of neck and shoulders, and marveled at the spell which held him In the north while such loveliness waited his return. re-turn. She still had power to stir him, but his moods of self-censure and remorse re-morse were short-lived. The north had won. CHAPTER II At daylight the challenge of the alre-dale alre-dale waked the sleeping man. With hair erect on mane and back, the dog squeezed through the lashed tent flap to break Into furious barking. "Shut up. Shot I Etienne's dropped Id for breakfast," called Guthrie. Presently weighted down with his load of .ret geese, a bent figure pushed through the alders accompanied accom-panied by the leaping alredale. "Jood morning, Etienne 1 Yon had a bad night of It In the bush." The wiry half-breed cached his load on the platform above his head, and grinned. "I mak good camp een de spruce wid beeg fire, an' roast tome goose." With difficulty the men boiled their tea and a kettle of goose; then, to avoid the flying sand, went Into the tent to eat. "We ought to be starting for Elkwan, Elk-wan, Etienne. I don't like to leave her too long, sick as she is." The swart face of Etienne Savanne grew grave as he nodded. "She nevaire see de snow once more." "That's why I bate to leave her alone with old Anne. I'd never forgive for-give myself if " Guthrie paused to stare at the tent wall. The black eyes of his companion softened. "You ben good man, m'sieu'. Dat girl die long ago een de bush." "Yes. the condensed milk has kept her alive but she should have gone to the mission at Albany." The other shook his head; then struck a match and lit his pipe before replying. "You are new man in dees coun-tree. coun-tree. You don' know Injun squaw. At Aibanee widout you she not be happy." Guthrie reddened under his deep tan. He knew only too well. "But they would have taken better care of her," he protested. Etienne slowly shook his head. "Too late, m'sieu. She live more long here dan at Aibanee." All day while the norther flayed the west coast. Guthrie and Etienne dressed and salted geese. Deep in the winter, when the caribou had drifted back from the coast the geese, freed Sailed Out of the Delta of the Great Albany. from the salt by boiling, would be a welcome change from the fat bacon of the company's stores. The wind held into the night, but when the men turned out of their blankets at sunrise sun-rise the blow was over. At noon the goose hunters launched the canoe and driving her through a quarter sea, pushed down the coast for the shelter of Akimlski island. They were rounding the low headland of Elkwan point when Garth, slaving in the bow, was aroused by an exclamation excla-mation from the stern man. "Look I A boat !" Etienne pointed his dripping paddle across the yellow strait to the shore of the Island. "Shipwrecked somewhere I Dey use de oar." . In the distance, crossing to the mainland, Guthrie made out a boat "Dey wave to us !" cried Etienne. "Dey see de canoe !" From the craft, still miles away, showed a flutter of white. "We'll come up with them on the lee side of the point," and Guthrie, whose thoughts were at Elkwan, whose arms were driven by fear fear that In his absence tragedy had had Its grim way, lunged viciously with his paddle-In paddle-In the quiet waters beyond Elkwan point, the two boats approached within with-in hailing distance. In the ship's dory four men were rowing, while two fig ures sat in the stern. The crew of the boat rested od their oars. "Hello, canoe!" Guthrie answered the hall, and shortly the Peterboro came up with the larger craft. "You've lost your ship?" he began. The black-bearded figure In the stern of the boat. Ignoring the question, demanded: de-manded: "You're Hudson's Bay people?" peo-ple?" "Yes, we're bound to the Elkwan just below here. You've lost your ship? Where did you leave her?" Guthrie's carious glance shifted from the bearded spokesman to the girl at his side wearing a pea-jacket and a sou'wester, below the brlro of which fluttered a plume of dark hair. As the boats swung together, the aire-dale, aire-dale, mane and tale stiff, growled menacingly at the strangers, but a low command from his master silenced him. "Our schooner's ashore on the outside out-side of the island. We left Fort George day before yesterday, and were off Cape Jones when the blow struck us. It crippled our rurfder and drove us straight across the bay. We couldn't head into it." "You were lucky to get ashore In that blow," said the surprised Guthrie. "Your boat must have got a pounding on those flats." "It did, but we struck at high tide and managed to get most of our stuff off her. Then, this morning, we fell Into the hands of a pirate." "Pirate!" Guthrie exclaimed. "Oh. Archie." protested the girl, "that's hardly fair. He paid for what he took, and helped with the last of the stores." "Who were they where from?" "They were in a little sixty-foot power schooner, the Ghost. St. Johns, and the leader was a red-headed ruffian ruf-fian with a mutilated face horrible;" The black eyes of Etienne Savanne snapped as they met the backward glance of his chief. "McDonal1, Ha I Ha!" said the half-breed with a grin that mapped his swart face with lines. "What?" "Yes," nodded Guthrie. "Your pirate was undoubtedly the famous Laughing McDonald. The Indians call him 'McDonald Ha I Ha!' because of the grin from that scar." As he spoke, Guthrie was aware that the grave eyes of the girl were curiously curi-ously studying him the second man with a scarred face she had met since her shipwreck on the west coast. Instinctively In-stinctively he got the Impression that those sober eyes had themselves looked on suffering tragedy. The blood rose to his forehead as he went on : "They think he's sort of a supermanthe super-manthe Indians. He's hypnotized them; but," and he met the girl's straight look, "yon say he treated you fairly?" "I think he did," she said, and, as she tucked the loose lock of chestnut under her cap, while the color showed faintly at her temples, he wondered If she had read his thoughts. "Treated us fairly," exploded the bearded man. "Well, I call that " "How many men were with him?" roughly Interrupted Guthrie. "Four. There was an Eskimo, too." "One a hig. bearded chap?" "Yes I The others I took to be sailors." sail-ors." Guthrie nodded to Savanne. "That's the Newfoundland whaler who brought him into the bay last year," he said; then continued to the stranger, "You had the honor, sir, to meet the man who has stampeded the fur trade from Whale river to Fort Churchill. He took fifty thousand dollars' worth of fox out of the bay last year." "Hum! Why didn't you drive him out arrest mm' Guthrie laughed. "Arrest him for what? He has as much right here as we. Then, you know, there are not many who would reiish the job." "Relish the job I Bah i I thought you fur men were " The speaker was Interrupted by a voice suddenly grown hard with impatience. im-patience. "It's getting late. My name Is Guthrie this Is my assistant Etienne Savanne. You'd better step that mast You'll need the sail or you won't make Elkwan before dark." "I'm Dr. Archibald Quarrler, sir, geologist We've been prospecting for iron and copper on the east coast," snapped the other, visibly annoyed. "This Is my sister, Miss Joan Quarrier. How far did you say we were from Albany?" Guthrie smiled into the amused eyes of the girl, who seemed to enjoy the discomfiture of her brother. "You're ninety miles from Albany. Your boat can't be beached like a canoe. ca-noe. . It would depend on the wind." Then, as lie glanced at the sun. dread of what he might find at Elkwan led Guthrie to finish abruptly: "Follow me into the river mouth. Our accommodations accom-modations are limited, but you are welcome." And delivered of this lie. with a sweep of his paddle, he separated sepa-rated the boats. "How about my stuff over on the Island; It's very valuable?" called Quarrler after the retreating canoe. "You can send men for that and bring It to Albany?" But the paddles of the now fast moving Peterboro lunged and swung in unison, the question ignored. Beyond the river valley the muskeg was smothering a sun veiled in haze when the Peterboro approached the log landing below the huddle of buildings build-ings on the high shore, which was Elkwan. The problem of caring for the guests which the storm had brought Guthrie had been swiftly crowded from his thoughts by solicitude solici-tude for those he had left at the post, a week before, when the necessity for beginning the hunt of their winter supply of geese had compelled his absence. ab-sence. He was overdue, and Anne was old and Ignorant. He would never forgive himself never cease to be haunted by the eyes of the doomed girl he had left In the care of the Cree women, if But no! It was unthinkable unthink-able too hideously tragic that It should have come to her, alone with old Anne. Fear of the thing had depressed de-pressed him on his summer trip to Albany Al-bany had harassed him through the last two days, a prisoner to the wind. The ache of his own loneliness through the first weeks at the sanatorium sana-torium had lent him deeper understanding under-standing of the frightened look In the eyes of the girl whenever of ne.'es-sity ne.'es-sity he had left her, even for a few hours. In the care of old Anne. But always he had returned to find her, and the joy In her wistful face had been fit recompense for his haste to turn back to keep his word to a waif of a half-breed, that he would be with her at the end. Guthrie leaped up the cliff trail to his quarters. Opening the door, he announced his coming in a voice that belied his fear. "Back again! How's all my family?" A squat Indian woman shuffled into the living room, her wide mouth splitting split-ting a swarthy face in a grin of delight de-light " 'Alio ! We glad you come !" Guthrie expelled a deep breath of relief. A voice from an adjacent room called faintly: "Xia I nia I You come back ! It ees long tam !" "Yes, Ninda." He bent oyer the cot where lay the wraith of a girl In whose face, thin to emaciation, great dark eyes glowed feverishly as she smiled up to him in her Joy. Guthrie drew a chair to th8 bedside and took in his the hot hand which lay on the coverlet The fever was worse. "It was the storm, Ninda the wind. We could not travel." The blue-black hair, heaped In braids on the pillow, accentuated the pallor of the dusky skin, shot over the high cheek hones with the flush of fever. She had failed rapidly since he left, but In her hour of extremity she would not be alone. "You go no more?" she whispered searching his bronzed face. He shook his head. No more, Ninda.' Anne came In with some hot con densed milk. The girl sipped a little then smiled at the pitying face of th man with its scar furrowing the right cheek. "You here all tam now, Ninda Sleep.' With a sigh her eyes closed. A Guthrie left the room, he looked bach On the pinched oval of her face hov ered a smile. "Where the boat, Etienne?" he asked, huskily, entering the trade-house, trade-house, which stood In the clearing out side the dog stockade. "She come slow along the shore not far now." Guthrie went down to the landing to meet his guests. The lack of space at his quarters at first thought em barrassing was now a source of satis faction, for there would be room foi Miss Quarrler, only. Her pompom brother and the rest would sleep In the trade-house. He would taki Quarrier in to meals and the others could eat with Etienne. And then, there was Ninda. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |