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Show p-fC f Northland Romance $1 Robert WSSIS iW f illustrations pSLf"rS$ But we're going down the lake tomorrow, to-morrow, so I thought I would just slip away and say good-by." "Not good-by," I faltered ; "not good-by." Her tone was measured, her eyes closed almost. "Yes, I'm afraid I must say 't. When we get down there, it's good-by, good-by, good-by. The less you have to do with me, the better." "What do you mean?" "Well, I mean this. These people are not decent. They're vile. I must go with them; I cannot get away. Go your way and leave me to whatever what-ever fate is in store for me." "Never!" I said harshly. "What do you take me for, Berna?" "My friend . . . you know, after his death, when I was so sick, I wanted to die. Then I got your letter, let-ter, and I felt I must see you again for I thought a lot of you. No man's ever been so kind to me as you have. They've all been the other sort, I used to think of you a good deal, and I wanted to do some little thing to show you I was really grateful. grate-ful. "Oh, come, Berna, never mind that." ' "Yes, I mean it. I just wanted to tell you the things a poor girl thought of you. But now it's all nearly over. We've neither of us got to think of each other any more . . . and I just wanted to give you this to remind re-mind you sometimes of Berna." It was a poor little locket and It contained a lock of her silken hair. "It's worth nothing, I know, but just keep it for me." "Indeed I will, Berna, keep It always, al-ways, and wear it for you. But I can't let you go like this. See here, girl, Is there nothing I can do? Berna, Berna, look at me, listen to me! Is there? What can I do? Tell me, tell me, my girl." She seemed to sway to me gently. Indeed I did not intend it, but somehow some-how she was in my arms. She felt so slight and frail a thing, I feared to hurt her. Then I felt her bosom heaving, and I knew she was crying. For a little I let her cry, but presently I lifted up the white face that lay-on my shoulder. It was wet with tears. Again and again I kissed her. She lay passively in my arms. Never did she try to escape nor hide her face, but seemed to give herself up to me. "Oil, 1 could be so happy If 1 only had a chance, if I only had the chance other girls have. It would take so little to make me the happiest girl in the world just to have a home, a plain, simple home where all was sun shine and peace; Just to have the commonest comforts, to be care-free, to love and be loved. That would be enough." She sighed and went on : "Then If I might have books, a little lit-tle music, flowers oh, it seems liko a dream of heaven ; as well might I sigh for a palace." "No palace could be too fair for you, Berna, no priuce too noble. Some day, your prince will come, and you you're afraid. It's not the sort of love you ve dreamed of. It's not your ideal. It would be gratitude and affection, af-fection, love of a kind, but never thai great dazzling light, that passion thai would raise to heaven or drag to hell." "llow do I know? Perhaps that would come in time. I care a great deal for you. I think of you always. I would be a true, devoted wife " "Yes, I know, Berna ; but you don't love me, love me ; see, dear. Listen, Berna! Here's where our difference In race comes in. You would rush blindly into this. You would not consider, con-sider, test and prove yourself. It's the most serious matter in life to me, something to be looked at from every side, to be weighed and balanced." bal-anced." As I said this, my conscience was whispering fiercely : "Oh, fool ! Coward! Cow-ard! Paltering, despicable coward I This girl throws herself on you, on your honor, chivalry, manhood, and you screen yourself behind a barrier of convention." However, I went on.. "You might come to love me In time, but we must wait a while, little lit-tle girl. Surely that is reasonable? I care for you a great, great deal, but I don't know If I love you In the great way people should love. Can't we wait a little, Berna? I'll look after you, dear; won't that do?" She disengaged herself from me, sighing woefully. "Yes, I suppose that'll do. Oh, I'll never forgive myself for saying that to you. I shouldn't, but I was so desperate. des-perate. You don't know what it meant to me. Please forget It, won't you?" "No, Berna, I'll never forget it, and I'll always bless you for having said it. Believe me, dear, It will all come right I'll watch no one harms you, and love will come to both of us in good time, that love that means life and death, hate and adoration, rapture rap-ture and pain, the greatest thing In the world. Oh, my dear, my dear, trust me ! Let us wait a little longer, long-er, just a little longer." "Yes, that's right, a little longer." Her voice was faint and toneless. She disengaged herself. "Now, good-night; they may have missed me." Almost before I could realize it she had disappeared amid the tents, leaving leav-ing me there in the gloom with my heart full of doubt, self-reproach and pain. Oh, despicable, paltering coward I CHAPTER V It was spring when we set sail on the sunlit waters of Lake Bennett Never had I felt so glad. And indeed it was a vastly merry mob that sailed with us, straining their eyes once more to the Eldorado of their dreams. Yet, under all the mirth and gayety, you could feel, tense, ruthless and dominant, the spirit of the trail. Klondike or. bust! Once more the slogan rang on bearded lips; once more the gold-lust smoldered in their eyes. The old primal lust resurged. Of all who had started out with us but a few had got this far. Of these Mervin and Hewson were far in front, victors of the trail, qualified to rank with the Men of the High North, the sourdoughs of the Yukon valley. Three days' start ahead were the Winklesteins. I kept a keen lookout for them and every day I hoped we would overtake their scow, for constantly I thought of Berna. Her face, so wistfully tender, ten-der, haunted me, and over and over In my mind I kept recalling our las meeting. At times I blamed myself for letting let-ting her go so easily, and tben again I was thankful that I had not allowed al-lowed niy heart to run away with my head, for I was beginning to wonder J I had not given hef hiy heart, given giv-en It easily, willingly and without reserve. re-serve. And in truth at the Idea I felt a strange thrill of joy. The girl seemed to me nil that was fair, lovable lov-able and sweet. We were now skimming over Tag-ish Tag-ish lake; a dead calm, a blazing sun, a seething mist of mosquitoes. We sweltered in the heat ; we strained, with blistered hands, at the oars; we cursed and tolled like a thousand others oth-ers of that grotesque fleet We entered the Fifty-mile river; we were in a giant valley; tier after tier of benchland rose to sentinel mountains of nusterest grandeur. The river was our beast of burden now, a tireless, gentle beast. TWn one evening as we were sweeping down the placid river, the current suddenly quickened. The banks were sliding past at a strange speed. Swiftly Swift-ly we whirled around a bend, and there we were right on top of the dreadful canyon. Straight ahead wa what seemed to be a solid wall of rock. The river looked to have no outlet; but as we drew nearer we saw that there was a narrow chasm in the stony face, and at this the water was rearing and charging with an angry roar. I was in the bow. All at once 1 saw directly In front a scow struggling strug-gling to make the shore. In her there were three people, two women and a man. I saw the man Jump ou: wHh a rope and try to snub the scow to .a tree. Three times be failed, running along the bank and shouting frantically. I saw one of the werrn jump for the shore. Then at the same Infant the rope rarted, and the scow, with the remaining woman, went swiriiiig on into the canyon All this I saw, and so fascinate was I that I forgot our own per:!. I heard a shrill scream cf fear; I saw '- solitary woman crouch down in the bottom or the scow, burying her ! face in her hands; I saw the scow I rise, hover, and then plunge down- j ward into the angry maw of the canyon. can-yon. I The river hurried us on helplessly. We were in the canyon now. About midway was a huge basin, like the old crater of a volcano, sloping upward up-ward to the pine-fringed skyline. Here was a giant eddy, and here, circling round and round, was the runaway scow. The forsaken woman was still crouching on it. "Keep clear of that scow," I heard some one shout. "Avoid the eddy." It was almost too late. The ill-fated scow spun round and swooped down on us. Jim and the Jam-wagon gave a desperate strain at the oars I saw the scow swirling past, just two feet from us. I looked again then with a wild panic of horror I saw that the crouching figure was that of Berna. I remember jumping it must have been five feet and I landed half in. half out of the water. I remember clinging a moment, then pulling myself my-self aboard. I beard shouts from the others as the current swept them into in-to the canyon. I remember looking round and cursing because both sweeps had been lost overboard, and lastly I remember bending over Berna and shouting in her ear. "All right, I'm with you!" For a moment she stared at me un believingly. Then, with a half-sob, half-cry of joy, she clasped her 'arms tightly around me. Something in her look, something In the touch of her slender, clinging form made my heart exult Once more we had whirled off Into the main current; once more we were in that roaring torrent The water smashed and bartered us, whirled us along relentlessly, lashed us In heavy sprays ; yet with closed eyes and thudding hearts we waited. Then suddenly we were sweeping along smoothly, and on either side of us the valley sloped in green plateaus up to the smiling sky. I unlocked my arms and peered down to where her face lay half hidden hid-den on my breast "Thank God, I was able to reach you !" "Yes, thank God !" she answered faintly. "Oh, I thought it was all over. I nearly died with fear. It was terrible. Thank God for you!" But she had scarce spoken when I realized with a vast shock, that the danger was far from over. We were hurrying along helplessly In that fierce current, and already I heard the roar of the Squaw rapids. "Be brave, Berna," I had to shout again ; "we'll be all right. Trust me, dear I" She was staring ahead with dilated eyes of fear. Yet at my words she became wonderfully calm, and in her face there was a great, glad look that made my heart rejoice. She nestled to my side. We took the rapids broadside on, but the scow was light and very strong. Like a cork in a mill-stream we tossed and spun around. The roar of doom was in our ears. Thud, crash, roar, sickening us to our hearts; lurching, leaping, beaten, battered bat-tered . . . then all at once came a calm; we must be past; we opened our eyes. We were again sweeping round a bend in the river in the shadow of a high bluff. If we could only make the bank but, no! The current J hurled us along once more. There about two hundred yards away, were I the dreaded Whitehorse rapids. "Close your eyes, Berna!" I cried. "Lie down on the bottom. Pray as you never prayed before." We were on them now. We both dropped down in the bottom of the scow, and she clasped mo. so tightly t marveled at the strength oi her. I felt her wet cheek pressed to mine, her lips clinging to my lips. "Now, dear, just a moment and it will all be over." Once again the angry thunder of the waters. The scow took them nose on, riding gallantly. Again we were tossed like a feather In a whirlwind, pitchforked from wrath to wrath. We clutched each other convulsively. Would It never, never end . . . then . . . then ... It seemed the last had come. Up. up we went We seemed to hover uncertainly, tilted, hair-poised over a yawning gulf. Dizzily we dipped over; steeply we plunged down. I gave up nil hope. I felt the girl faint in my arms. How long It seemed ! I wished for the end. Then, swamped from bow to stern, half turned over, wrecked and broken, bro-ken, wo swept into the peaceful basin of the river below. Boats and scows were lined up for miles along the river shore. On the banks water-soaked outfits lay drying In the sun. We, too, had shipped much water in our passage, and n few days would be needed to dry on! again. Madam Winklcstcln I found surprisingly sur-prisingly gracious. Winklestein, too, had conveniently forgotten our last interview, and extended to me the paw of Fpi:rior,s friendship. I -n? free to see Ih rna as iniKh as I chose Thus It came shout that w-rnn'.Med w-rnn'.Med amntig the woods and hills, pickin? will flowers and clad nhae-t with the J'y of children. In these few days I re-ted a vast chr.r.ge In girl. It was r.s if in the foor c'.li 1 a long stiflr-l capacity for j-.y v.:i-glowirg v.:i-glowirg i: to being. One golden day, with her cheek softly fhiihed. her eyes shining, she turr.ed to n, e. CHAPTER V Continued. Our last load was safely landed and the trail of the land was over. We had packed an outfit of four thousand pounds over a thirty-seven-mile trail 'jBd It had taken us nearly a month. For an average of fifteen hours a day had worked for all that was in us ; vet looking back, it seems to have been more a matter of dogged persistence persist-ence and patience than desperate endeavor en-deavor and endurance. Our party was well qualified to pass the test of the trail. The Prodigal was full of Irrepressible enthusiasm, and always loaded to the muzzle with ideas. Salvation Jim was a mine of foresight and resource, while the Jam-wagon Jam-wagon proved himself an Insatiable glutton for work. Altogether we fared better than the average party. We were camped on the narrow neck of water between Lindeman and Bennett and as hay was two hundred and fifty dollars a ton, the first thing we did was to butcher the ox. The Bert was to see about building a boat We thought of whipsawing our own boards, but the timber near us was poor or thinned out, so that in the end we bought lumber, paying for it twenty cents a foot. We were all very unexpert carpenters; however, by watching others, we managed to make a decent looking boat. The ice was going fast. Strangers were still coming in over the trail with awful tales of its horrors. Bennett Ben-nett was all excitement and seething life. Thousands of ungainly boats, rafts and scows were waiting to be launched. Already craft were beginning begin-ning to come through from Lindeman. rushing down the fierce torrent between be-tween the two lakes- llie ice was loose and broken. We were ail ready to start in a few days. The mighty camp was in a ferment of excitement. Every one seemed elated beyond words. On, once more, to Eldorado! A great exultation welled up in me, the voice of youth and ambition, the lust to conquer. I would succeed, I would wrest from the vast, lonely, mysterious North some of its treasure. I would be a conqueror. Silent and abstracted, I looked into the brooding disk of sheeny sky, my eyes dream-troubled. Then I felt a ghostly hand touch my arm, and with a great start of surprise, I turned. "Berna !" The girl was wearing a thin black shawl around her shoulders, but in the Icy wind blowing from the lake, she trembled like a wand. Her face was pale, waxen, almost spiritual in its expression, and she looked at me wlth just the most pitiably sweet smile in the world. "I'm sorry I startled you; but I wanted to thank you for your letter nuil for your sympathy. You see, I'm all alone now." The voice faltered, but went on bravely. "I've got no one that cares about me any more, "nd I've been sick, so sick I wonder I lived. I knew you'd forgotten me, and I don't blame you. But I've never nev-er forgotten you, and I wanted to see Jwi just once more." She was speaking quite calmly and unemotionally. "Berna !" I cried ; "don't say that, lour reproach hurts me so. Indeed 1 'd try to find you, but it's such a v,lst caniP- There are so many thousands thou-sands of people here. Time and again I Inquired, but no one seemed Mow. No, Berna, I didn't forget, j ly's and many's a night I've lain pke thinking of you, wondering, onS'ng to see you again. What a J,'"'0 wllite whisp you are ! You look ft breeze would blow you away. ' shouldn't be out this night, girl. "')' coat around you, come now." f wrapped her in it and saw with opal TSi hr shiverinS cease. - In the freat f the luminous sky uer T,er;'.'. e.ves were lustrous. tony 1 Si,i(i np:ain' "w,,y clul yu tone bU""0' W'ly? YU should hava I e 1,;u'k" she repeated ; "Indeed ' have, oh. so gladly. But you n, ",uUl'stuiHl-lhey wouldn't let -'til l' ii U''V hnrl eot a11 llIs moncy soar i , wt though they fom' U1 11:1,1 nothing thev made me We.lti" WUl1 U'0111' Tll(-V sail1 1 e;:,-,, 'm for h's burial, and for the I .a; ;1,l(,"Uon they gave me when on wi,.'1.,'' Tlu'-V S:liI I must come f'r"test'i :ui11 wo,'k for thel11- 1 Hie uJ, stru-giod. nut what's tliom, ' 1 cn't do anything against ('".'ihl V,more- l'm eak, and I'm &hl V '',ld of hw" ean.e ,,'u,lltlcred, then a look of fear on ,er 0 ller e.vos. I put my hand "This I""1 a'Ul rlrew llor close t0 me-yoi me-yoi be,.,, ,terribl0. Bc'-ua. What have "01, doin3 n11 the time?" 'lion,.' j,6 b,een forking, working for ?Pstaurn'ey've beeo running a little rant and I've waited on table.1 I Jtik- "Not Even a Beggar Will Seek Me, a Poor, Nameless Girl Traveling In the Train of Dishonor." will give him that great love I told you of once." Swiftly a shadow came Into the bright eyes, the sweet mouth curved pathetically. "Not even a beggar will sock me. n poor nameless little girl traveling In the train of dishonor." She had all the snd sophistication of the lowly born, yet with It an Invincible Invinc-ible sense of purity. Once I asked her: "Berna, If you bad to choose between be-tween death and dishonor, which would you prefer?" "Death, of course," elio imswered promptly. "Death's easy; physical deatli ; compan-d with the other, compared com-pared with moral death." She wiis very en;ph;;tic and aii'ry with me fur my hazarded demur. Never was swell a brave spirit, so d" terrnincd In goodne.-s, so upright In purity, Mel I He:-:", her for h'T un-falti-ril.g words. We w r- :' : : n . ' t s tw;,in. hut while my outlook was p;iy with hope, hers was dark with !e..p;.ir. Sinro the episode epi-sode of the S'juw I had never ventured to kis her, but had treated le r with a cur!o"s r---ro. revpeet and r-ourt'-sy. Ind'-ed, I was diagnosing my ca-e, w.i.'J-r:r.g If I hi-, ed her, ufr.rmSr.s. CouU'U.g on n very f-faw of Itid"-teniiinriti'ii,. Itid"-teniiinriti'ii,. When with l.er I felt for her an I:. for d'- s arid i t times an airno't irre-ponsilile tend'-rrjess. Was I in love? Poor, fatuous fool! I wanted ie-r more tlinn eeryihin el.-e in iill the world, yet I he.-Jtaied nd w-e:f the qne.f -i. (To Be Continued) Her Tears Were Salt Upon My Llp, Yet Her Own Lips Were Cold. Her tears were salt upon my lips, yet her own lips were cold, and she did not answer to my kisses. At last she spoke. Her voice was like a little sigh. "Oh, if it could only be!" - "What, Berna? Tell me what?" "If you could only take me away from them, protect me, care for me. Oh, If you could only marry me, make me your wife. I would be the best wife in the world to you; I would work my lingers to the bone for you; I would starve and suffer for you, and walk the world barefoot for your sake. Oil, my dear, my dear, pity me !" It seemed as if a sudden light had flashed upon my brain, stunning me, bewildering me. I thought of the princess of my dreams. I thought of Garry and of mother. Could I take her to them? "Iterna," I said sternly, "look nt me." She obeyed. "Berna, tell me. by nil you regard ns pure and holy, do you love me?" She was silent and averted her eyes. .""No, Berna." A said, "you don't |