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Show HTTLJir DTP TkfT TQTTTO Irxc ijixjr IVlUaivllljr ! By c ,ht VICTOR ROUSSEAU I Copyright hf I STEWAR1 K1DD COMPANY J- 1 I WHEN NATURE FROWNS. Nature Is not a genial old dame, nature writers and poets to the contrary notwithstanding. Go at her with a club and she will give freely. Cut she always watches for a chance to get even. Beg of her and Bhe is cruel as the grave. She pardons no mistakes, and always she resents man's intrusion Into her wild places.. Muskeg is North American Indian In-dian for a marsh, swamp, tussocky bog. It's generally a bad place for travel. This Big Muskeg was crossed here and there by trails, but was never stable, contained a river of ooze and had unsounded depths. Nature had apparently stuck It right there to stop the Mis-satlbl Mis-satlbl Kxtenslon from going farther. far-ther. So around the Big Muskeg revolves re-volves a thrilling story of Canadian railroad building a fight against the hostile forces of nature. Extremely Ex-tremely Interesting are the side lights on the life of the North. Best of all there's a fascinating story of the loves and passions of the strong men and women who are conquering the wilderness. Victor Rousseau knows life from experience. He has been a student in England, a fighter In South Af-rl Af-rl a a newspaper man In the United Unit-ed States. He Is the author of many novels and his public is large. CHAPTER I. A Bolt From the Blue. Eighteen below; fair weather for December In New Manitoba, where the forest, though it chills the soil till midsummer, yet shuts out the razor-edge razor-edge of the winds that make the prairies, prai-ries, farther south, an Icy inferno. Here the hush, which had seemed to stretch out inimitably, thinned into bedraggled patches among the up-cropping up-cropping rocks. A little farther and It began once more; the break was like a gTeat, curving arm thrust into" the heart of it, as if some giant fingers had plucked up the trees iu handsful and scooped the foundation from the frozen soil, and then had been withdrawn, with-drawn, leaving the Imprints of the great finger-tips. These finger-tips were huge sinkholes, sink-holes, sometimes filled with water, so that they formed clear lakes ; more often sodden sponges of decayed vegetable veg-etable matter, oozy, treacherous and unstable. The finger-lines were the circular ridges marking the subsidence of the mud. The thumb was Big Muskeg, Mus-keg, which the two men who stood on the top of the humpbacked ridge could see extended beneath them.. Big Muskeg, at this point less than half a mile across, was everywhere of unsounded depth. It curved and wound n river of ooze, now broadening into chains of lakes, now narrowing into gullies; here and there crossed by trails, but never stable, nowhere offering of-fering firm foundation for the permanent perma-nent way of the Missatibi railroad. The Missatibi was a branch line, feeding the new road that was pushing push-ing northward toward the ports-to be on Hudson bay. It linked wilh it at Clayton, whence it was being extended eastward Into a virgin wilderness. Even In the days when half a dozen companies were pegging out ways for lines that were to divert the wheat north, Joe Rostock's line had been the joke of legislatures and financiers. Tlio.se other lines that were being built into Clayton passed through the wheat-lands; Joe's line ran east out of Clayton into a wilderness. Joe linstock had secured his capital, but he had no competitors And slowly Missatibi, with its small -.hareholders and limited means, had gone ahead. The first location parties par-ties had cleared a road to Big Muskeg. Mus-keg. The rails had been laid ha'f-way. ha'f-way. But that was all, save lor the partly constructed shacks and buildings build-ings for tiie workmen there, and the sheds for the construction material that had not yet been freighted In. Joe. standing with legs straddling the top of the ridge, turned to Wiltuu Carrutliers, the chief engineer of the company, with eyebrow's arched and humorous inquiry on ids weathor-bealen weathor-bealen old face. There was no need for speech at that moment, because the mind of each man dwelt on the Identical problem. The two men had come east by dog sleigh, accompanied by two half-breeds, half-breeds, Jean l'asseparlout and I'apll-l-:n. the one in charge of the dogs, the olher currying the Iransit-coinpass. They had cump'-d seven miles back on the preceding evening, and had set nut at daybreak to survey the swamplands swamp-lands from the ridge. Fur the problem prob-lem which bad suddenly risen up to confront them clamored for solution before const I'uct ion couid he carried forward, ami on its solution depended the future of the Missatibi. With tin' physical eye neither Joe nor Cari'iithci's could hope to accomplish accom-plish anything.' Wilton was seeking Inspiration, though he did not know It. Theoretically he was endeavoring to discern .some place where a foundation might be Coaxed above the unstable. qttukiiiK surface with trestling ami crib-work, a crossing that combined the leuM possible deviation of route with no more than four fifths of one per cent of grade and four degrees of curve. Actually and unconsciously he was seeking to Interpret the natural convulsion con-vulsion which had, in time immeasurably immeasur-ably remote, cloven the ridge of the land and set the swamp seeping Into the fissure. If he could rend the meaning of that convulsion, understand the mind and mood of the great Architect, he could see, as If ciairvoyantly, just where the Muskeg lay thinnest on the roots of the hills, where ballast would appear the soonest above the sucking swamp. But he could read nothing. Joe Bostock wrinkled his eyes against the sunlight. "Thut's what I was thinking, Wilton," Wil-ton," he said. "But It's got to be done. Somebody'll build It some day if the Missatibi doesn't." That was the nearest speech to despair de-spair that Joe. Invincible, exuberant optimist that he was. had ever made. Weeks, months of resurvey must ensue, en-sue, with work halted, and the Missa-tlhl's Missa-tlhl's precarious capital diminishing to vanishing point, while the story of the great blunder percolated through the lobbies of the provincial legislature, filled with bland, jeering, ill-conditioned men to whom one day's tramp such as their laborers performed would mean apoplexy. Their faces haunted Wilton. He remembered re-membered half a dozen whom he had approached when the Missatibi scheme was first bruited abroad. There was, in particular, Tom Bowyer, of the New Northern line, his many Interests entrenched en-trenched behind the bulwarks of political po-litical influence. Joe Bostock had suggested sug-gested an amalgamation in the belief that Tom Bowyer could wreck the bill in' the legislature. But Tom had laughed in Joe's face, and had not even opposed the measure. . "Go ahead with your muskrat line, Joe!" he had said. "I won't hinder you." The surveyors who made the preliminary pre-liminary reconnoissnnce had shirked their work and lied. Wilton suspected suspect-ed that most of them had been in Bow- imp's M Joe Bosiock Laid His Hands on the Other Man's Shoulders. yer's pay. Bowyer and Bostork were old rivals. They hud reported Big Muskeg Mus-keg to be an insignificant swamp with a firm umlei'bed about the portage. It could be crossed, of course. In th end, since nature always yielded to man. But the Missntibi must either swing a huge loop around It, through territory unsurveyod, or set to itself the task of filling those unsounded depths wilh thousands of tons of rock. "D n you!" said Willon. shaking his list Inward the valley. "We'll heat you yet. We've made a bad blunder, Joe. Crooked work, w ithout doubr though I can't Imagine why Bowyer's gang should take tire trouble to hurt us unless, of course, they guess " Joe Bostock shoo!; his head. "No. they haven't guessed that, Wilton," he answered. "I'll stake my hat cm that. There ain't nobody except me ami you and Kilty knows. It's Jest had luck. Wilton" Joe couid never sense treachery nni bring himself to believe In its possibility; possi-bility; and If that weakness had kepi him. In I lie main,' a poor man, it hud bound Ids friends to him with unbreakable unbreak-able bonds. "At the best It's gross negligence,' said Wilton. "Those surveyors scamped their work. I accepted their reports. I couldn't go out with the transit and aneroid and follow them all up to check their results. But I might have sounded Big Muskeg. 1 didn't." Ills voice choked. "Joe. If you have any sense, you'll fire in' first," he said. Joe linstock laid Ills hands on th other man's shoulders and the hum,, ous smile came on his face. "Well guess not, Wilton," he said. "Ye ain't to blame. You've done nil in mortal man could do. The Mlssath. couldn't have been built at ull without with-out you. Fire you 7 Why, KItty'd have my life If I dared suggest such a thing." Wilton frowned Involuntarily at the reference to the pretty young wife whom Joe Bostock had married In Winnipeg the year before. Joe's first marriage had been unhappy ; it had been long ago,' and Wilton knew there had been a separation, though Joe was always reticent about that. Kitty was five and thirty years younger than Joe, and she had Intervened Inter-vened into a fast friendship of more .than a decade between Joe and Wilton. Wil-ton. It made a difference, as it always docs, though Joe had sworn It should not, and Kitty thought the world cf Wilton. Wilton could never understand his secret feeling about Kitty. She was devoted to Joe. Perhaps that was what lay beneath his latent antagonism antago-nism toward her. He was jealous of her. He was Jealous of a woman's love for Joe. "I guess not !" said Joe Bostock again, pressing his hand hard down on Wilton's shoulder. And, In that instant, Wilton heard the crack of a rifle, and felt a violent blow on the upper part of the left arm, which knocked him to the ground. As he fell, Joe Bostock pitched forward upon him. Twice Joe's lips quivered, as If he was trying to speak. Then the lower jaw dropped and the eyes rolled upward. up-ward. A grayish pallor crept over the face. Wtlton saw that Joe's macklnaw had a tiny tear In It, over the breast. A trickle of blood seeped through the cloth. He wrenched the garment open with ills right hand, pulled up the sweater, and tore the shirt apart. The heart, fluttering like a wounded bird, stopped under his hand. Joe sighed once, but he never stirred again. The bu'.let had passed clean through Joe Bostock's heart from the back. And, as he tried to raise Joe's body, WiKon realized that the same bullet had broken his left arm, which hung limp from the shoulder. He spratik, to his feet, a mad wrath giving back to him his ebbing strength. lie glared about him, but it was Impossible to ascertain from where the shot had come. He could not even locate the direction within a hundred degrees, for Joe had been In the act of turning. Nobody was In sight, and the woods were silent. His bellowing call of fury that went echoing through the trees elicited no answer. He tore strips from his handkerchief, hand-kerchief, holding It between his teeth, and, with ins left hand on his knee, knotted them about a stick ami improvised im-provised a tourniquet. The blood was spurting down his sleeve in jets, the I in in was intense, and it was impossible impos-sible to take off the macklnaw and hope to replace his arms In it : but he twisted with all bis force tint 11 the diminishing fiow showed that he laid compressed the artery. Thrusting he longer end of the stick beneath his armpit, he passed the other through the buttonhole of the garment, and. stooping, managed to get Joe's body upon his shoulder and to hold it with his right arm. His impulse was to carry Joe's body back to the camp, but he knew that it would be Impossible to make the 'distance. 'dis-tance. Yet to leave it would mean Ihe certainty of mutilation by bears or timber-wolves unless he could build a cairn of stones. And of that he was equally Incapable. He set Joe's body down. and. In the tirst full realization of his loss and Ills predicament, predica-ment, he shouted curses to ihe sky. That murder hud been Intended he did not believe; no doubt the shot had been a bullet fired at some nearer mark, perhaps a hare, and by one of the half-breeds. lie suspected that the transit-bearer, following them up, had tired the shot, and, seeing Ihe fatality, fa-tality, had lied. But the thought that this might be the explanation was only a fleeting one. Joe was dead, and Ids body must be cared for. Just as If he were alive taken back to the camp and thence out of the woods. There was no possibility pos-sibility of leaving Joe's body there. Yet it seemed to him that he could not hope to reach Ihe camp. Anil now another idea came to 1dm. II was seven miles hack lo the camp, hut only live to the portage over' the frozen swamp. Upon the other side of Ihe porlago was a trull tliat came out of the prairie southward aiid wound into the unknown norih. Along this Indians brought their winter win-ter catches to the traifing-store of McDonald, the factor of the Hudson's liny company. Traveling was hard along the shore of the great Muskeg, but It would mean two miles less, and It was pis' possible lo make the store. McDonald McDon-ald whs a queer, taciturn, snmel ' lues venomous old man, and had evinced a -tl'ong dislike of Wilton on the nci-a--iou of their last meeting. Yet M''- onald would shelter him and reeolve oe's body. And then there wa Molly s dou-'hter. WIMen havl": me-'o Ms -choee. net I on it at oii -e. Willi a great elToi-i ' "alsed .1 'e's stilTeollig form upon his shoulder; and doggedly he began his awful Journey, his right arm grasping grasp-ing the dead man, his helpless left hugging the tourniquet-stick against his side. He stumbled over the rough ground until he reached the cleared road through the trees. Here the going was easier, but the burden numbed his right hand and shoulder, the throbbing pnin In his left seemed to beat time to his footsteps,, and the ache of the cramping muscles increased the agony of his wound and began to spread down his body. , A wind sprang up, driving gusts of whirling snow into his eyes. A deadly lethargy was creeping over him, and presently, turning Ids head to shield ids eyes from the beating blasts, he saw a trickle of crimson on the road behind hlru. The tourniquet had loosened. He wns bleeding his life away. The blood was gushing down his fingers. Wilton Wil-ton set Joe's body down and succeeded In .tightening the compress. And It was only after an almost superhuman struggle that he could get Joe over his shoulder. He knew that if he was forced to set the body down again he could never lift it. With knees bent, tripping over the roots of the trees, and reeling through a swimming world, he staggered stag-gered on and on and on. And neither his anger nor the thought of Kitty could have kept his resolution through that nightmare of pain. It was all Joe now, the memory of Joe. his love for him, and his resolve that his friend's remains should not be torn by the timber-wolvsis. Joe had befriended lilm years before, be-fore, when he had drifted, penniless, into Winnipeg. Joe's faith had been his own, and the secret of the Missatibi Missati-bi theirs. So the miles reeled off behind him, while the wind Increased and the snow fell thicker along the way. At last the trees opened, and the bleak shore of Big Muskeg lay before him, a desert of ice and snow, with the bluffs opposite, oppo-site, and beyond them the trees once more. At once the fierce swirl of the gale caught him, whistling like sirens, boring bor-ing into his face tike white-hot probes. The ice that fringed his lashes blinded hm and pulled theni from the lids when he tried to open his eyes. He reeled on, clutching Joe's hotly, and heard Ids own voice go from him in shouts of despair. They rolled across the snow, and the echoes enme in faint, mimicking answer from the distant cliffs. Wilton retained sufficient consciousness conscious-ness of his surroundings to make his way along t lie shore toward the portage. port-age. He might have shortened his route to McDonald's store a little by risking a direct crossing; but the surface sur-face of a muskeg is always dangerous, even in midwinter, when the apparently appar-ently solid Ice conceals sink-holes of slush, which, mixed with peat nnd . ooze, does not congeal firmly, and entraps en-traps Ihe unwary- traveler, a quick-nmil quick-nmil ft mil which escape is next to impossible. im-possible. "And somehow, breaking the rotten ice in front of her body, the girl succeeded in getting Wilton to the shore." 1 j (TO BE CONTINUED.) |