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Show l"5 COOPER HTCOURTN-Y RYLE? COOPER . . W.N.U. SERv7cg "Get Sergeant Terry! Go get Sergeant Ser-geant Terry. Can't you see Bruce is dying?" A glaze had come into the man's eyes. Hammond ran from the room, returning in a moment with the sergeant. ser-geant. Kay stood beside the cot, straight, strangely wan. "Sergeant," she said in a thin voice, "you have the right of a justice?" "Yes, in some things." "Marriage?" "Yes." She spoke slowly. "Will you marry Bruce Kenning and me?" The sergeant appeared puzzled. "Does he that is " "Ask him. He can answer with his eyes. He moves them for 'yes,' closes them for 'no.' Confirm it and ask him. Only please hurry!" "Yes, of course." The sergeant bent close with his queries. Bruce Kenning slowly moved his eyes. "Hurry, Sergeant," the, girl pleaded. plead-ed. A frontier nurse was passing. The sergeant caught her by the arm. "Wait a minute, please," he commanded, com-manded, and with a gesture indicated indi-cated that Jack also was to remain 4 ill 0 'p rnVPTEK XI Continued ., 16 ?C'C-' 'Hammond obeyed, staring at ffOf. 'f.. be saw. On the ground was 3 II charred body of a man, his W ,Tnthing burned away. ' "'Dead?" Hammond asked. There . a nu'eer tremble of his voice. H "That's the hell of it," a flre-i flre-i l::' Jghter answered. "The poor devil's siiii living." The victim lay face downward, distorted mouth open. Hammond Wnt to his knees and gently turned Oil' the man on his back. k!f I? "I thought so," he said jerkily. It 1 Fs-j was Bruce Kenning. V Burned, horribly so, the man still iW was recognizable. Hammond ', reached for his gloves and dusted . p tte dirt out of the man's eyes; they 'e -1 were uninjured. Harm snd called ;tip ys name. The eyes moved, in a g,v manner which hurt Jack to watch, ro hi There was no sound, not even an :ets action of the lips. They were too ito'i-1 swollen, too cracked; long fissures ,-8.v) in the hugely enlarged flesh gave '1 forth exudations of serum; the en-:i...J en-:i...J larged tongue, pressed tightly mo-tionless mo-tionless against seared palate, told ISV the story. "Some of you fellows better strip ' '"" off your coats and cut some poles," he commanded. "Make a stretcher ; and take him out to the lake. I'll get him back to camp in the plane." y High in the air, Hammond leaned , Oil over the man, relenting in his hate. f1;;i It seemed cruel that Kenning must clirig to life. There was not even l the alleviation of being able to j groan; he made no sound save a " throaty sort of gurgling. Only his eyes, fervent, terribly expressive, told of his suffering. The airplane dropped down through the soupy sky to a comparatively com-paratively gentle landing. Hammond Ham-mond opened the cabin door and v leaned out over the spray of the X pontoons, as the plane taxied to I shore. -j The life rafts were beached, emp- ty. Men, and a few women, were .'3 lugging possessions out of the shal- lows, and moving with them through -A the driving snow, which steadily be-i be-i I came heavier, toward the blackened ii expanse that once had been Sap- phire. Already a few tents were ris- ing. Life had begun anew. j A woman called out to Hammond. "Hey! What's the trouble?" It was Around the World Annie, j in char-smudged shirt and breeks. 1 Her boots were muddy. "Got a burnt man in the cabin," he answered. T "Thought so. No use stopping here. Taxi around to the inlet. They're using my place." ' Jack stared. ! "But I've got a burnt man." "Ain't there plenty up there like him?" yeUed Annie. "What's eatin' on you? Who've you got? " "Bruce Kenning. He's in bad , shape." Annie turned, and with a hooked v arm, halted a passing miner. J "Go tell that Joyce girl they've V I found her lover," she commanded. ! - well-formed hands began to knit, lliiHcr weaving within finger. ".Bruce! she begged. "Bruce dcar-you always said you'd take care of me." The eyes assured her. "If if anything should happen to you " Again he let her know, by the only means that he possessed, that he understood. un-derstood. A break came into her voice. "I just can't face life," she said brokenly, "without something!" Her tongue ran over lips pale from lack of carmine. The hands knit more rapidly. "Ii you married Bruce " The eyes moved swiftly. The girl turned, only to stiffen. ''Here comes Jack Hammond," said a frontier nurse at the window. "That ought to cheer up that Towers Tow-ers girl." "She needs something." Another member of the Frontier corps had joined her. "God knows, she's had little else, the way she's been working." work-ing." Kay sank back in her chair, queerly frightened. She kept telling herself over and over again that she must wait Hammond must not know about this he'd guess why she was doing it But Jack Hammond had no idea of what was going on at Bruce Kenning's bedside. Somewhat rested after long labors, la-bors, he stood on the steps of the pavilion, looking back over the valley. val-ley. The fire was dead buried under eight inches of snow from beneath which it still steamed impotently. What trees remained were beautiful beauti-ful in filagreed silver. The slopes of the giant hills were serrations of reddish earth and smooth white, a calm expanse which looked down upon the gaunt place which once had been Sapphire. But even now hammers were sounding. Fires burned in front of tents. There were huge ruts in the snow, where man power and the dogs which had escaped the forest fire dragged logs to the building of new cabins. Here and there a placer claim was being worked. Intermittently, an airplane roared out of a leaden ceiling and dropped down to the lake, heavy with new supplies. The snowfall had ceased, but the clouds which had brought it still lingered, forming form-ing again for another downfall. Hammond went up the steps and into the pavilion. Sergeant Terry was there, a match to his black pipe. "How goes the battle?' the prospector pros-pector asked. "Partly good. Partly bad. A couple cou-ple of new pneumonia cases. And it looks like Kenning's going to save us the cost of a trial." "Has he talked yet?r "Can't. Won't. Tongue too swollen." swol-len." A girl passed, heavily laden with dishes from the kitchen. Hammond leaped to aid her. It was Jeanne Towers. "Thanks," she said with a smile. "I'm not much of a hasher." "You had enough there for two men to carry," the man said. "Did I? Well, I didn't notice it." As he walked beside her, Jack remembered that she had said many things like this during the long hours. That she didn't notice she was alone, when another nurse should have been helping her to turn a suffering patient in his bed; that she didn't notice that she was carrying a double armful of wood for the big stove, now set up in the middle of the gambling hall; that she didn't notice she had worked hours past the time when others had sought rest. Somehow she seemed to shame him. Yet Jack was proud of her. Now that he thought of it, he always al-ways had been proud of Jeanne Towers Tow-ers proud of her that night when she had borrowed her dogs, in the raw, new camp of Fourcross; proud of her when she gathered the wood for him, during the snowstorm on the long trek to Sapphire; proud of her for her stalwart courage in the little store; even proud of her that night when she had brought his every ev-ery dream crashing down about him by her accusations of Kay Joyce. The food distributed, he walked down the line of cots. Here a man had a message to be taken to a partner. A wife wanted her husband, hus-band, down in camp. A fellow worker work-er in the fire zone held him, talking of their fight together against flames. At last he came to Kenning's Ken-ning's cot. "Well," he asked, without bitterness, bitter-ness, "is he any better?" Kay came to her feet, sullenly defiant. de-fiant. "Why don't you go away?" 1 "I didn't mean to annoy you." The girl's lips tightened. "Coming by to gloat, when a man can't defend himself." Hammond longed to snap out that regardless of Kenning's state, she was still able to offer rebuttal, but he refrained. This was a different Kay from the sure, almost patronizing patron-izing person who had flown in here, sleek, well - groomed only a few months before. Now, there were hollows beneath her eyes; even her hair seemed to have lost some of its glint. A certain sympathy swept Hammond for her; he was glad of it, glad that the bitterness was gone. "I'm sorry, Kay," he said slowly. slow-ly. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you " The girl had not heard him. She had turned swiftly back to the cot, watching intently. "Get Sergeant Terry!" she commanded. com-manded. 'in a queer voice. "Sergeant Terry?" She straightened, railing. The enamel, the mascara, the rouge, were gone; their departure enhanced rather than detracted from her appearance. No longer was she a' hard-featured gambling queen, only an old woman, somehow some-how kindly, and shaken by the suffering suf-fering which had invaded her rendezvous. "God, he's in a hell of a shape!" she exclaimed, as she glanced toward to-ward the injured man. "Be damned easy with him, boys." They went on. Hammond walked beside the stretcher bearers. At the door, he glanced up, with an exclamation ex-clamation of happiness. Jeanne Towers stood before him. She came quickly forward, her hands caught his arms. There was a moment of silence, almost communion. Then: "You'd better take him into the big room." Five minutes later, Jack stood at the door of that big room, a queer look on his irregular features. Kenning Ken-ning had been placed on a rough cot, and a quietly efficient woman of the Frontier Nursing association, one of a dozen flown in within the last twenty-four hours, was directing direct-ing the efforts of the women as they began the long task of cleansing and oiling and bandaging. A . door slammed. Hammond turned. For an instant he looked into the eyes of Kay Joyce. . "There he is," the man said quietly. quiet-ly. The girl went forward, her steps slowing as she approached the cot. Suddenly she went to her knees, her hands outstretched, hovering over him as though they longed to touch him, yet feared it. For a long time she remained silent, her centered gaze, her trembling, her intensity, all for him. But suddenly sudden-ly she broke. Her hands clasped tightly. Her shoulders took on a tense, shuddering shudder-ing stiffness. Her usually too-pretty lips contorted until they became almost al-most ugly. "You can't die, Bruce," she cried. "You can't! Good God what on earth will become of me if you die, Bruce? Can't you understand? What will become of me?" CHAPTER XII Afternoon became night, night slowly became gray morning, yet Kay Joyce did not leave Bruce Kenning's Ken-ning's death-bed. Those who passed her saw in her features a conflict of emotions; terror was there, galling gall-ing sorrow. Selfishness flared its way across her face, giving way to commiseration. Anger stirred when Jeanne Towers, returning from a brief sleep, came back to duty. Gentleness Gen-tleness ran its course and hardness followed; glittering eyes stared for long moments. Numbing grief had its place, and self-pity. Bruce Kenning, Ken-ning, she know, could not live. At last, she bent forward, all but whispering. whis-pering. "Bruce, Bruce dear. Can you hear me?" The hungry, horribly patient eyes centered upon her. She sat silent, looking at him. This was his only means of expression. The hands were motionless, encased, as was most of his body, in bandages yellowed yel-lowed by picric acid. His head was a mass of stained white; Only the eyes remained, expressive, imploring, implor-ing, as if for the surcease of death. Kay again leaned close. "Move your eyes if you want to say 'yes.' Close them for 'no.' Do you understand?" The eyes moved quickly. Kay Joyce bit her lips. She looked about her. There was no one near to overhear; the man on the next cot was almost as badly burned as Kenning. Ken-ning. For a long time she was silent. At last: "Those claims? The ones of Mc-Kenzie Mc-Kenzie Joe that you got from Jack. Were they in your cabin?" The eyes said "No." "Did you have them with you?" Again the eyes replied in the negative. neg-ative. "Then where are they?" But the eyes could only stare. Words could not flow from that thickened throat; the hands remained re-mained impotent. A long time passed. The girl was silent, as if fighting for the strength to go on. At last the selfish look again came into her eyes, mingling queerly with compassion. She pressed her lips close to the bandages about his ears. "Jack said they were recorded. Were they?" His eyes moved in the affirmative. affirma-tive. Again she leaned back, silent in thought. . The big room echoed with activity. activi-ty. From far at the end came the ceaseless groaning of a sufferer, unable to suppress his agony. The man on the next cot breathed heavily heav-ily in fevered sleep. Kay Joyce's Life and Roulette, a Turn of the Wheel as a witness. Then, brokenly, from memory, he began to repeat the passages of the wedding ceremony: "Do you, Bruce Kenning, take this woman for your lawful wife?" The eyes, more glassy, rolled slowly in answer. "And do you ?" At last it was over. Jack Hammond Ham-mond walked dully away. A few months before, he had waded hip-deep hip-deep in the waters of Lake Sapphire, Sap-phire, to welcome this girl as his fiancee. Now, in a gambling house, he had stood as a witness while she married another man. His eyes fell on the roulette wheel. Life and roulette, a turn of the wheel, a bet placed at random, a call of the croupier crou-pier announcing the loser. Behind him, Kay Joyce was sobbing, sob-bing, the frontier nurse beside her as she knelt against Bruce Kenning's Ken-ning's cot. There was little need for gentleness; Kenning was all but beyond pain. Hammond raised a hand to his throat. He left the room. After a time, Around the World Annie came out into the entrance where Jack stood talking at random ran-dom with the sergeant. "Well, the guy's kicked over," she said. "Funny she'd want to marry him, ain't it? And him dying" dy-ing" That night, Hammond saw Kay Joyce again, in the hallway of Annie's An-nie's pavilion. Some of the dullness dull-ness was gone from her features, giving way to the flare of her always al-ways easily aroused anger. Around the World Annie stood at the window, win-dow, watching the flecking of a snow flurry against the pane. "And I don't care what you say about it," Annie spurted; "the thing was mine and I did what I pleased with it." Hammond halted an instant, then started on toward the gambling room in search of Jeanne. Annie called him back. "You're mixed up in this. What about them claims you signed over to Bruce Kenning?" Hammond looked at her. "Well, what about them?" "Were they any good?" "Why ask?" Around the World Annie breathed deeply, bulging her ponderous bosom. bos-om. "Me 'n' Kay Joyce have got an argument on about them. She says they're hers." Hammond pressed his lips. "I guess they are," came finally. "She married Kenning for them." Annie stared. (TO EE COXT1KED) n I Mm) id JlllM- Slrelcher and Take 10"-1 Bim Out to the Lake." IC- iShi;rin' arounJ this J 0?r'KvspiotchGd wuh the a t"j into the cabin cIimbed back f tteepitiothe inleU" h6 command" ni' hisW Tn heIped Jack out wilh '0 the bl HaSSenger and bre him "ached 1 h 85 WhoPee. Annie 6''i "uih Place as the slowly JHaimonrt n ascended the steps. piCSiMU,,lgar,'h l |
