p167tTHE ADVENTURERS WERE OF ALL SORTS. THEY WERE DRAWN ON BY THE LUST FOR RICHES.The huskies yelped and snarled in fierce rivalry. Harry, the Dog-Man, snapped his whip with a vicious crack like the report of a gun. The dogs strained against the breast-straps in their fierce lunge forward. Along the line was everywhere impetuous, eager movement. The stampede had begun.Dangerous Dan McGrew, who rode beside his wife, spoke to her softly, so that his question would not be overheard by Sam Ward, who rode on her other side:"What does he say?"Lou answered in a whisper:"He'll leave to-night, when the camp's quiet, for his own claim."CHAPTER XIIIFrom a nook on the mountainside, a lone man watched scornfully the long, thin line of the stampede.Those same threads spun by the Fates had caught another in their mesh. In a lonely hut, there in the desolate Northland, Jim Maxwell had his home. His presence was needful for the weaving of that design by which right should be realized in the final presentation of life's tapestry. He had traveled thus far beyond the confines of civilization under the urge of that immutable purpose which drove him in all his wanderings throughout the years—to find the man he hated, and the woman he loved. He had sought vainly over all the world in the usual haunts of men—in many that were unusual. Never, anywhere, had he found a trace. He had come into this forbidding land, not forthe lure of gold, as the others had come; but for the lure of vengeance against the man who had despoiled him, and for the lure of love toward the woman who had his heart in her keeping.Then, somehow, Jim Maxwell, when he found himself isolated there in a cabin amid the loneliness of this land, almost forgot vengeance, almost forgot love, in the immensity of the peace that brooded over the snow-clad wastes. In the hut he had built with his own hands, from spruce timbers, he was snugly sheltered against the austerities of the clime. He had fuel enough, of his gathering along the wooded slopes of the foot-hills. In the maw of the sheet-iron stove, which he had packed, the resinous branches were transmuted into dancing flames, redolent of warmth and cheer in the tiny room of the hut, though outside the blasts from the Pole were cold as the ice from which they came.The day of his daughter's wedding—though he had no least suspicion that wife, orchild, or enemy was within thousands of miles—Jim made a round of his traps. In making the circuit, he was absorbed, without thought, for the time being, of the life that had been, without thought of vengeance, without thought of love. It was only after he had returned at nightfall to the hut, and had fried his mess of bacon on top of the red-hot stove, and had boiled his coffee hard, as one must in the North, where there is need of all the energy from food, that Jim sat down on his bunk of spruce boughs, ready for sleep—yet, for a moment, wakeful.Then there sounded softly on his ears that old, old lyric of love. It was the song that had been played out of the feeling of his heart for his wife, in the years long gone. It was that improvisation with which he had told Lou his passion on the day when he had heard that Dan McGrew was coming to visit them. Now, Jim had no means of audible expression. Nevertheless, the song welled in him. It thrilled in every atom of his being. It was that same wonderful, joyous, lilting melody,full of life at its best. The tenderness of love rang in its cadences. Jim's fingers tensed—they were hungry to seize the chords, rapacious to pounce on the notes that voiced this heart-song of a lost happiness.Jim aroused from the trance of memory. He looked to the fire, and rolled into the bunk.... He had heard, that day, in a native iglook, of a find of gold on Forgotten Creek. He recalled the fact drowsily as sleep fell on him."I'll take a look across the valley in the morning," he thought. "There's sure to be a stampede."So it came about on the day following the marriage of Nell Ross and Jack Reeves that there was a watcher who looked out over the valley through which the long line of dogs and men hurried toward the possible riches of Forgotten Creek.Jim seated himself on the trunk of a fallen spruce, high on the mountainside. From this point, he overlooked the whole length of the valley. He saw at last the animate line darting out of the distance, and watched as it became definite, with a smile of cynical amusement.... These were the hunters of gold. And gold—Bah! There were only two things in the world: love and vengeance.From his seat on the fallen spruce, Jim Maxwell stared out over the valley. For hours he sat there. He saw the breaking up of the company, as its members scattered in various directions, now that they were come into the region of possible wealth. At the last, the valley showed clear of the human invaders.... And, just then, Jim Maxwell heard a sound, which already he had learned to know, there in the Northland. It was a gentle sound, but with a sibilance that held a threat of danger—like the hiss of a gigantic serpent.As he heard, Jim instinctively let out a great shout of fear in the presence of this peril so close upon him. In the same moment, without pausing to look up, he dropped from the log on which he had been sitting, and crowded as closely under it as he could,to make it serve as a bulwark—though, indeed, he well knew the futility of such a protection against the avalanche that was now crashing down the slope. Crouched there beneath the log, Jim awaited the issue with an unuttered prayer for escape in his heart—if escape should be possible.p176tCROUCHED THERE BENEATH THE LOG, JIM AWAITED THE ISSUE.In another instant the din of the snow-slide burst on his ears in its full fury. And, along with that thunderous noise, the daylight was blotted out. In the darkness, the man felt the soft, yet inexorable weight of the massed snow crushing upon him, holding him as in a vise. There was a tiny free space still beneath the log, and as yet he had no lack of air. But he was powerless to stir. He realized that there was no possibility of digging his way out through the heaped bulk of snow within which he lay entombed. He could find no room for hope. He resigned himself to meet the end with what fortitude he might. A wave of wrath swept through him that he must die thus futilely, with his vengeance unaccomplished. The emotion passed presently,and in its stead came a vast and poignant yearning for the woman he loved. By a fierce effort of will, he fought down such desires, which he deemed weakness at this time, and strove to look Death in the face calmly, with resignation and without fear.Jack Reeves and his bride, despite the excellence of the young prospector's dog-team, lagged behind the others in the long line of the stampede, for the young husband had his own ideas concerning a location likely to yield the best results, and meant to let the crowd precede him, in order that he might pursue his course unmarked. So it came about that, after the straggling procession of gold-hunters had passed from the sight of Jim Maxwell, the newly married pair entered the valley, riding at ease behind the leisurely moving dogs. Jim Maxwell, from his position on the mountainside, held his gaze turned toward where the last of the stampeders had vanished, and so failed to observe the newcomers. Thus, when the avalanche swept down uponhim, he had no thought that his wild, instinctive cry for succor could be heard.But it was. A quarter of a mile away, Jack Reeves heard the despairful shout; and Nell, too, heard it. Jack's quick gaze, darting in the direction of the sound, caught a glimpse of moving shadow against the white surface of the slope, as Jim dropped from the log to take shelter beneath it. At the same time, there came to Jack's ears the first noise of the avalanche's descent, and he understood fully how great was the peril of the unknown, whose cry for help he had heard. He called to his dogs savagely, and sent them forward toward the slope at speed. Before he had time to explain to the startled Nell, the rush and roar of the snow-slide made clear the situation to her, familiar as she was with this peril of the mountains. Yet, ere the hurtling masses of snow buried the spot where he had seen the moving shadow, Jack marked its location precisely by means of an outcropping ledge, just to the right of the tree-trunk. As he went forward swiftly, he noted with reliefthat the slide, which soon ceased, was a comparatively small one, though of a size sufficient to prove fatal to its victim, unless aided from without.At the foot of the slope, some distance to the right of the freshly heaped-up snow, the sled was halted. Jack and Nell put on their snow-shoes, and, with a couple of spades from the pack, made their way with some difficulty to the jutting point of the ledge, which still protruded a little beyond the new covering of snow. A few feet to the left of this, they began to dig, working with feverish haste. They progressed rapidly, for the prospector was in the full prime of his manhood, with muscles like steel, and the girl, if less strong, was in equally perfect condition, and with training enough in the arduous life of the frontier to make the toil simple to her.They had dug down perhaps a score of feet, and had reached, as Jack judged, almost to the ground, so that he feared lest he might have mistaken the location, when suddenly Nell rested motionless."Listen!" she commanded. Her tense face was radiant.Jack ceased shoveling, and listened as he had been bidden.There came a faint, strangely muffled sound. It came again—an indistinguishable, inarticulate mutter from somewhere under the snow at their feet.Jack shouted triumphantly."By cricky, Nell," he cried joyously, "we've struck him, sure as sin!" He raised his voice to its full volume in a cheerful bellow, meant to reach the ears of the imprisoned man below:"Buck up, old pal! We'll have you out in a jiffy." Then the bridal pair betook themselves to shoveling with the enthusiasm inspired by success.There was no difficulty in the completion of the work of rescue. Very soon, the excavation reached the log under which Jim Maxwell was sheltered, and he was able to crawl forth with some difficulty, owing to cramped and aching muscles, but safe and sound. Hewas a little dazed over his escape, when he had resigned himself to hopelessness. It seemed to him as if a miracle had been wrought in his behalf by the timely appearance of these two, where he had believed there was none to aid him. His feeling of wonder was increased by the fact that one of these two who had saved him from death, and who now stood beside him supporting him, was a girl, whose dark, lovely face beneath the fur cap was alight with an almost maternal joy over the deliverance in which she had shared. The event seemed, somehow, to soften in a certain degree the nature of the man, embittered by long years of suffering under a grievous wrong. For almost the first time since the loss he had sustained at the hands of Dan McGrew, Jim Maxwell felt a warm emotion, which was close to tenderness. He continued to regard the two bewilderedly. But his voice, when at last he spoke, was firm, and vibrant with gratitude:"You saved me—and I sha'n't forget it." He paused for a moment, then added whimsically:"I don't know who you are, or how you got here—unless you're two sure-enough angels, dropped plumb-straight down from heaven for this special occasion." The half-jesting note left his voice. "And I'll say just one thing: If you children ever need a friend, you can call on me, and I sha'n't fail you. In the meantime," he added briskly, "I want you to be my guests for the night. My cabin is near by—a little way up the gulch there."Something in the dignity of his manner as he made the proffer of hospitality, some refinement of inflection in his tones, caused the listeners to look with new curiosity on this roughly dressed man, whose face was almost hidden beneath the thicket of beard. They were moved by a sudden, compelling respect for this uncouth-appearing dweller in the waste. It needed but a glance between husband and wife to ensure their acceptance of the invitation. So, presently, the three rode on together. They felt a certain unusual kindliness in their relation as host and guests.They attributed it, as far as they thought of the matter at all, to the peculiar manner of their meeting.... They could not guess that strands woven by the Fates had caught them in a mesh for the final right weaving of a perfect design.CHAPTER XIVAfter the horses had been given up and sent back, Lou, by Dan's arrangement, continued the journey on the sled of some men who were not properly of the stampeders, but were bound for Malamute. Dan himself, hardy as he was, had no difficulty in keeping up the pace with the best of the travelers on foot. He carried snow-shoes—for which he had no present need as the crust held—and a light pack on his back. The others of the stampeders regarded him as one of themselves, without ulterior purpose beyond the legitimate finding of gold somewhere in the creek-beds, or within the ledges of the mountains. Only Lou guessed aught of the evil project cherished by her husband. She had little compunction, for her sensibilities had become hardened with the passage of the years, and she had long ceased to regard herselfas in any wise the keeper of Dan's conscience.Dan himself, as always, had no scruples, though he meant to add yet another to the list of his crimes. He went warily to his work. He held Sam Ward under close observation, but so discreetly that the victim of his watchfulness had no hint of it. As the train straggled out toward nightfall, Dan contrived to be near his intended victim, though not in company with him. Because of the information gathered by Lou, that the miner meant to steal away from the others during the night, Dangerous Dan had determined to keep a vigil during the hours of darkness, so that, when the miner slipped away by stealth, thinking himself unobserved by any one, he would be able to follow as stealthily, and thus to trace the owner to the secret mine.To one of Dangerous Dan McGrew's accomplishments the task was very simple. The night was clear, and he became aware at once when Sam Ward prepared to set forth. He allowed the miner to proceed for a considerabledistance before following. Against the white surface of the snow, the moving form was distinguishable for a long way, and, since it alone in the expanse moved at all, it was not to be mistaken. But, while the miner was so distinctly visible to his pursuer, Dan McGrew had little fear of being himself observed, since no eyes were seeking his presence there. So, separated by a considerable distance, the two men advanced through the night, ascending at a smart pace from the level reaches of the valley to the lower slopes of the mountains. Here the spruce cast black shade, and often gorges lay deep in shadow. Dan was forced to lessen the distance between himself and the one he followed. Often, he was hard put to it to keep close enough on his quarry to be sure of the man's movements, without revealing his own presence on the trail. Some risks he took, since needs must. But the danger of discovery did not trouble Dangerous Dan, for he had never lacked courage, whatever his other vices.It was in the gray of the dawn when at lastSam Ward halted, with a grunt of satisfaction, which the listening man, crouched behind a stump fifty yards away, plainly heard through the motionless chill air. The miner cast off the pack that he had carried throughout most of the day and all of the night, and began hasty preparations for pitching camp.... It was evident that Sam Ward had reached his destination.Assured that this was the end of the journey, Dangerous Dan silently withdrew to a sheltered nook within the trees, a full quarter of a mile from the other's camp. Here he built a fire, without any fear of its light being seen by Sam Ward; for, besides the screen of trees, a high ridge intervened between the two camps. Dan, owing to the unusual mildness of the night, did not trouble with piling green logs against which to stack his fire, but contented himself with selecting a spot where a steep bank at his back aided in the retention of the heat.Tired as he was, Dangerous Dan gathered sufficient fuel ready at hand, so that he mightreplenish the blaze, arousing instinctively from sleep as the flames died down. He guessed that the miner would sleep late, after the fatigue of the trip. But he allowed himself only two hours of rest; for he had yet much to do, and weariness must await leisure. Dan McGrew could sacrifice selfish desires for the time being in order to attain to selfish ends.The sun was well above the horizon, when Dan McGrew at last arose reluctantly, and stamped out the dying embers. He rolled up his pack, but left it where he had camped. He carried a revolver with him, but he had no intention of using it, lest the report attract the attention of some chance prospector in the vicinity. He was not quite sure, even, that he meditated violence—it might not be necessary. But, before setting forth, he drew from its sheath, hidden within his bosom, a long, wicked-looking knife, the blade of which he examined approvingly, testing its edge with a bare thumb. When he had returned the weapon to its place of concealment, he wentforward very cautiously, his feet leaving hardly a trace of their passage over the snow-crust. He took advantage of the shelter afforded by bushes and trees, so that his approach might not be detected. Thus, he came finally to a vantage point behind a clump of bushes, which grew on a little knoll. Below this, hardly a score of yards away, was Sam Ward's camp.The miner was just arousing from sleep, when Dan reached this point of observation. While the hidden man watched attentively, Sam Ward replenished the fire, and hastily prepared a breakfast, which he devoured even more hastily. Forthwith, then, he set about the serious business of the day. To the watcher's surprise, the miner removed a heap of firewood, which had been stacked against the sloping bank, some distance above a tiny frozen stream. When the branches had been thrown aside, there was revealed an opening through the snow, and on into the earth itself. It was evident that the miner had already tunneled into the ledge.Now, he got dynamite from his pack, and set it carefully where it might thaw out within the radius of heat from the fire. Thereafter, he crawled into the tunnel, and was occupied out of the watcher's sight for some time. On emergence, he examined the dynamite, and, satisfied with its condition, took it, along with caps and fuse, on his return into the tunnel. This time, he was gone for only a short interval. Presently, came a dull rumble as the explosive detonated within the earth. The miner reëntered the tunnel, carrying a bag. When he brought this forth, he was staggering under the weight it contained.p177tDAN McGREW, STARING DOWN WITH HUNGRY EYES, SAW THE MINER.Dan McGrew, staring down with hungry eyes, saw the miner pound the fragments of rock to powder in a roughly contrived mortar, which was set beside the fire. Dangerous Dan had learned enough of gold-mining to understand that the miner had chanced on a quartz lead of the richest sort. Undoubtedly, it was a vein of considerable size which would assay thousands of dollars to the ton. It was free-milling ore. The rough method employedby the miner was sufficient to secure the golden treasure. Now, when he had made an end of crushing the bits of rock, Sam descended to the creek, where he chopped a hole through the ice, and so, after great labor, was able to winnow the dust. Dan McGrew was able to see the golden stream of tiny flakes that the miner at last poured into his poke, with chuckles of glee. The watcher's steady eyes narrowed and grew savage, for black envy and avarice filled his heart. Of a sudden, his vague purpose became crystallized.... He would have this mine for his own—at any cost.Dangerous Dan looked over the scene carefully, as he made his plans. The little stream, above which the miner had encamped, ran straight between shallow banks out into a broad valley beyond. Dan was sure that he could advance to a point on the slope where he would be just above his unsuspecting prey. Thence, he could drop down on the miner, who, all unconscious of any peril, squatted before the fire gloating over his treasure. A single blow of the knife would put a term tohis ownership of the mine. Afterward, it would be a simple matter to conceal the body in some cranny where only the wolves would be likely to scent it out. And Dan McGrew would have the treasure-house for his own.His decision made, Dan acted upon it at once. It came about according to his calculations—with two exceptions:The first was that, as he leaped upon his victim from behind, some faintest sound of movement, or some subtle instinct in the victim, gave warning. Sam Ward sprang to his feet, whirling as he rose. The lust of gold was in him, too. On the instant, he understood the death that threatened and the cause of it. He fought for his life and his gold with all the strength that was in him. He got his hands to his assailant's throat, and the fingers clutched in a clutch meant to kill. Dangerous Dan's eyes goggled from his head as he strangled within that grip. But he did not forget, even in his anguish, either his purpose or his advantage. He thrust the knife with all his power into the miner's breast. For asecond that seemed to endure for an eternity, Dan was still held in the vice-like grasp. Then abruptly, there came a gurgling moan from Sam Ward's lips. The clenched fingers relaxed. Dan thrust the form of his adversary from him. The haft of the knife, which he still held in his right hand, was broken from the blade by the wrench of the inert body, as it fell and went limply sliding down the slope toward the creek.p202tHE FOUGHT FOR HIS LIFE AND HIS GOLD WITH ALL THE STRENGTH THAT WAS IN HIM.Dan McGrew gazed on the grim descent with eyes that were dull still from the deadly grapple. His breath came in sobs. He was triumphant, but he realized how close he had been to failure.Then, a minute later, when his brain and his sight were clear again, he suddenly uttered a frightful curse....In the wide expanse of the valley into which the creek flowed, a sled moved rapidly, as the dogs strained in their harness. And it was coming straight toward the creek—toward the place where he stood. Dangerous Dan McGrew cursed yet once again—and morehorribly. Then, he leaped down the slope to where the dead body had halted. He stooped over it—searched with desperate rapidity. A moment later, with the poke of gold and a few papers from the dead man, Dangerous Dan raced back up the bank, and on, flying from the spot where he had committed a crime so great for a reward so small.CHAPTER XVThe bridal pair were at once astonished and gratified by the entertainment offered them in this remote wilderness. There was nothing remarkable in their surroundings at the cabin. The fare provided was of the simplest. The effect on the two visitors was produced wholly by the personality of the man himself. As the men sat in easy communion over their pipes, while Nell listened eagerly, Jim Maxwell, still under the influence of that softer feeling aroused by gratitude to the two who had rescued him, relaxed from the usual aloofness toward his fellows, and talked of many things in a manner of singular charm. Jack Reeves had had excellent advantages in education, before ever the spirit of adventure drove him toward the Arctic. As he perceived the extent of the older man's experience,he plied his host with questions. To these, Jim responded readily—at first from courtesy, and then, moved by patent interest on the part of his hearers, with a certain enthusiasm. He found a long-forgotten pleasure in thus speaking at ease of the things he felt to sympathetic auditors. In the years of his wandering and suffering, the man's nature had deepened and mellowed, even though it was shut within the crust of bitterness. So, to-night, he gave himself unreservedly to this new mood of genial intercourse. He marveled over his own changed mood, but indulged it to the full, nevertheless. In a gentle, unfamiliar fashion, Jim Maxwell was almost happy to-night—almost happy, for the first time in twelve years.Nell's presence moved him deeply, though she sat silent for the most part. Her close attention was a compliment greater than any words she could have uttered. Jim Maxwell felt this, and yielded to the inspiration of it. He was by no means unaware of the piquant loveliness of the girl. His critical appreciationwas betrayed by many swift, penetrating glances at the rapt face. The dusk, lucent beauty of her eyes especially appealed to him. In them, he glimpsed her soul, full of the joy of life, a-thrill with expectation of the happiness that awaited, pure and undaunted by any fear of evil. As he looked on her, Jim's admiring gaze was always a little wistful. Since the tragedy in his life, women had had no interest for him, because he had lost her whom he loved. To-night, somehow, it was different. He felt himself strangely drawn to this unknown girl. His heart stirred toward her. It was not an emotion of which even a bridegroom could complain—it was something utterly untouched by any instinct of sex, something subtle and exquisite. Jim himself could not understand his feeling in the least. Only, he yielded to the spell of it with delight.The host left his guests in possession, when it came the hour for retiring. He was deaf to their remonstrances, and betook himself to an outbuilding, which had been his first shelter in this place, before the making of the cabin.Left alone with her husband, Nell spoke musingly, very softly:"What a wonderful man, Jack! He is the sort of man I should like—" She broke off, staring with vaguely puzzled, unseeing eyes at the glowing stove."Now, what do you mean by that?" the bridegroom demanded, with asperity.Nell aroused from introspection at the shortness of the husband's tone. Then she laughed."Don't be absurd, goosie!" she bantered. "I actually believe you'd like to be jealous of the first man I've met on our honeymoon." Her voice softened. "Well, you needn't be. But he is a dear, all the same."Something in her tone quelled the young husband's impulse of alarm. Straightway, he spoke his own admiration, without further jealousy."He sure is a wonder," he declared emphatically. "He's one of the sort who could make himself at home—and make himself the center of attraction, too—anywhere around the world, with high or low or Jack or the game."A little later, he spoke again, reflectively:"I wonder what he did!""What he did!" Nell repeated, bewildered."Whether he robbed a bank, or just murdered somebody," Jack explained.Nell flared."He's not that sort!" she flung at him. Then, her eyes grew dreamy again."But," she added—and there was a note of sympathetic tenderness in her voice—"perhaps it was something that somebody else did.""Eh?" Jack demanded, perplexed in his turn."I mean," Nell said, half-apologetically, "perhaps it was something—some crime even—some one else did that made Mr. Maxwell come away off here, to live alone in the mountains. A man like him!"Next morning, Jack and Nell went on their way, almost regretfully, so great was the impression made upon both by this man whom they had rescued from death. Still withouthaste, Jack drove his dogs over the level valley-crust. As it drew toward night, he selected for his camp a point where a few stunted spruce grew a little way up the slope."I guess we're alone in our glory," he commented, as his eyes swept the scene. "Not a stampeder in sight—and I'm glad of it. You see," he continued, as Nell looked at him inquiringly, "I've been over this way before. There's a creek flows in here from the other side of the valley. I was up it once. It showed some prospects. I'd like another look at it—without any stampeders by. And there's not a one in sight.""I wonder!" While Jack went to straighten out the over-lively dogs, Nell took the field-glasses from their case, and amused herself with a careful scrutiny of this white world over which now lay a purpling glamour as the sun sank wearily below the horizon.Suddenly, there was a moving blur, a fleeting black shadow, in the line of vision. Hitherto, there had been no sign of life anywhere. This trace of activity, in the stillnessof the snow-clad wild, interested her, even startled her a little, though she had no thought that it could be more than a glimpse of some stampeder plodding through the distance.Nell adjusted the glasses, and sought again. Then, in a flash, she saw clearly—a camp-fire burning, a man squatted close to the flames. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the scene. It was not the sight of camp-fire and man beside it that caused Nell's cheek to pale, that caused her hand to shake, until for a moment the vision was blurred, that caused the little gasp from her lips. It was another figure thus revealed there in the far distance that so affected her—another figure high up on the slope, which moved with a craftiness and stealth that were in themselves sinister. These were the slinking movements of a beast of prey. But the figure was that of a man.Nell called to Jack—softly, as if she feared lest, across the valley-space, that skulking man might hear her cry.When Jack came to her, Nell put the glasses in his hands."Look there!" she directed, and pointed. Afterward, she sat tensed and apprehensive in her place on the sled, while her husband stood at her side, and looked as she had bidden him.An ejaculation burst from Jack as his eyes caught the action in that drama across the valley. Through a long minute, and another, he rested rigid, silent. Suddenly, with an imprecation, he tossed the glasses toward Nell. He pointed desperately across the valley, then sprang to the dogs, and straightened them out, his voice so harsh that they cringed under it.p203tHE POINTED DESPERATELY ACROSS THE VALLEY."Mush!" he yelled savagely, and the whiplash hissed its message to the leaders.... They were off at full speed."Too late!" Jack groaned, as the dogs bounded forward. "Oh, damn him! I hope he hangs for it—the dirty murderer!"It was, indeed, too late. When they were come up the lesser valley, through which the creek ran, to a point near where the body of Sam Ward was lying, Jack halted the dogs, and went forward alone. He would not yield to Nell's pleadings that she be allowedto accompany him. He was not minded that she should thus look on the assassin's victim.Jack returned very soon."Dead as a door-nail!" he said shortly. His face was a little pale under the bronze of open-air living. "A knife-blade in his chest—handle broken off. We've seen the chap. It was Sam Ward. Had a secret mine, they said."Jack chose a camp-site close at hand, to which he removed the body of the murdered man, so that it would be protected from any prowling wolf. He brought down to his camp the dead man's pack, and he covered the still and rigid shape decently with one of the blankets that had been Sam Ward's. He made no attempt to trace the assassin. To have done so would have been useless in itself, and would have been to risk the like death. Nor did he make even a cursory search for the secret mine. He had no wish for personal profit out of this grewsome event. On the contrary, he was willing to delay his operations in the mountains, in order that hemight deliver the corpse to the authorities, and make known to them the facts in the case."We'll put him on the sled in the morning," he said to Nell, who was very quiet, and who turned her eyes from time to time fearfully toward a place just on the edge of the firelight, where flickering shadows danced grotesquely over a deeper shadow—a shadow huge and misshapen and menacing."We'll take him up to Kalmak. It's a little place on the way to Malamute. But they have a sheriff, and that's what we need."And neither he nor his wife, who looked from time to time affrightedly toward the shadows, had any hint as to the irony that the Fates had put into the husband's concluding words.CHAPTER XVIDan McGrew, from a point of safe concealment, watched the coming of the sled with keen interest. He was still furious over the miscarriage in his plans caused by this arrival. There was no longer possibility of his holding the secret of the mine for himself. In return for the blood on his hands, he had gained a single poke of gold-dust. His chief concern now was the evading of any possible suspicion against himself. His thoughts were busy with this problem of safety. At his distance, and in the darkening light, he could not make out the identity of the man who examined the body of Sam Ward, and afterward removed it. Since Nell did not leave the sled, he did not guess even that one of the two was a woman. But it did occur to him that, since the arrival of these persons had thwarted his evil hopes, it would befitting that they themselves should serve his need as the scape-goats of suspicion.Once this idea had stirred in his brain, Dangerous Dan found little difficulty in planning the accomplishment of his designs. He remained in hiding, without venturing even to light a fire though he was hard put to it to resist the numbing cold. It was not till some hours after nightfall, when he judged the two in their camp safely asleep, that Dangerous Dan acted on the plan he had formed.He crept with the utmost caution down the slope, and made a wide détour, so as to come near the camp to windward of the point where he heard the little yelps and whinings of dogs restless in their sleep. The night was clear, and, even within the shadows of the trees about the camp, Dan could see distinctly where the sled stood outside the limit of the firelight. Toward this, with increased care and slowness in the progress, Dan made his way.He had almost reached the sled, when he stumbled over what he had deemed merely adeeper shadow beside it, and sprawled forward. To save himself from falling, he thrust out his right hand. The palm touched something cold—with a coldness beyond that of the arctic air. It was the face of the man whom he had slain, from off which his rough contact had thrust the blanket. And Dan McGrew knew the thing for what it was.Strong man that he was, he was sickened. For a little, he stood there shivering, unnerved by the grisly encounter. But it was only the shock that had unmanned him. Presently, his courage rose again. He grinned to himself, standing there in the dark over the dead body. Here was nothing to be afraid of, he said to himself in brutal disdain of his own weakness. So, soon, he went on again, quite undismayed, to carry out his purpose.Noiselessly, Dangerous Dan fumbled over the pack on the sled for some minutes. Once, he put a hand in his pocket, and drew forth something, which he disposed within the wrappings of the pack. Finally, he readjusted everything, as nearly as he could by thesense of touch, to the condition in which he had found it. Only, there was something added to the contents. For once in his life, Dangerous Dan had not been a robber. Yet, never had his intent been more deadly.His task thus accomplished, the man withdrew as silently as he had come. Nevertheless, despite his bravado, he was at pains to tread aside, lest he brush a second time against that blanketed form.Jack and Nell were up and away early. They made good speed with the grewsome burden on the sled. They ran easily without snow-shoes, for the crust still held. Jack was distressed that his bride should be unable to ride luxuriously on their honeymoon. But for this Nell cared not at all. In her youth and perfect health, the physical activity was, in truth, a pleasure, rather than a toil. But she was disturbed by the presence of that grim thing which they escorted. She could not avoid yielding in some measure to superstition. The radiant joy of her bridalwas quenched by this tragedy that had followed so close upon it, and into association with which they had been forced by circumstance. Her mood was oppressed with forebodings. She was all anxiety to reach Kalmak, where they might be rid of this ill-omened clay. So, she urged Jack often to increase the pace. And he, for his part, hardly less sensitive to this malignant influence at such a time, consented readily enough, hurrying on the dogs with whip and voice.... The train swung into Kalmak in mid-afternoon—at least an hour sooner than it would have made the distance with a lighter load.p220tSHE WAS DISTURBED BY THE PRESENCE OF THAT GRIM THING WHICH THEY ESCORTED.Jack halted the dogs before the very unpretentious structure that was inappropriately designated the Grand Hotel. At sound of the arrival, those within hurried forth, eager for any interruption of the day's monotony. Among the others came a tall, lank man, with a lantern-jawed face and a drooping, melancholy mustache, whom Jack recognized as Hal Owens, the sheriff. He himself, however, was not known to Owens, or to any of thosepresent, nor was Nell, as they were speedily to learn to their sorrow. Another face in the group was vaguely familiar to both the young husband and his bride. Jack, for the moment, could not recall where he had seen this stalwart, handsome man, who stood with a masterful erectness, emphasized by his frank and fearless gaze. But Nell, in the instant of seeing the stranger, recollected him perfectly, though she had seen him but once in a fleeting glance. She remembered how he had appeared on her wedding-day, and how he had regarded her with that cynical smile, which had aroused in her an inexplicable sense of dismay, a fear of mysterious disasters, past or to come. It seemed to her appropriate enough that now this man should be present to welcome her and her husband as they brought in their ghastly load. Again, she experienced a curious repugnance in meeting the steady stare that seemed to probe into her soul with a mocking amusement. Nell wrenched her eyes from his, and turned away with a little shudder of revulsion. Then, the naturalbuoyancy of her spirits asserted itself. After all, this man, who affected her so strangely, was nothing to them—could be nothing to them. And they were at last free of the horrible incubus that had been thrust upon them. The dead body was now gone out of their charge, was become the property of the law. She smiled, a little wanly, while her eyes moved over the roughly garbed cluster of men. She was glad—oh, so glad!—that miserable interruption of their honeymoon was done and over.Jack addressed the sheriff briskly, himself almost as anxious as Nell to have done with this wretched matter."This is your business, Sheriff. I've brought in the body of a chap who got killed out Forgotten Creek way, yesterday afternoon."The sheriff nodded with what he took to be the dignity befitting his authority."The coroner should set on the corpse," he said gravely, pleased at this display of his familiarity with legal phrases. "In his absence—bein'there hain't none—I reckon I'll do the best I kin."He strode to the sled, and pulled aside the blanket that had concealed the dead man's face. He turned to the men who had crowded around."Anybody know him?" he demanded, authoritatively.There was a chorus of grunts in negation.Then, as the others fell silent, Jack spoke again:"I knew him by sight, though I never spoke to him. His name was Sam Ward. They said he'd struck it rich—a secret mine somewhere in the mountains.""Know anything more about him?" The sheriff's voice was heavy with responsibility.Jack made an impatient gesture."He was in the stampede that came up to Forgotten Creek day before yesterday. You know?""I know," the sheriff assented. "What else do you know?""I know he's dead," Jack snapped. He washeartily sick of this business, and his temper grew strained. "If you have any doubt about it," he added sarcastically, "why, I saw him killed."There was a general start of surprise over this bald announcement. The sheriff, however, preserved his official composure."That ought to help some," was his response. "Supposin' now, you fire ahead, an' tell all you know about this corpse o' your'n.""No corpse of mine!" Jack retorted gruffly, more than ever annoyed, while Nell felt a qualm of new dread at the sheriff's ambiguous words. But Jack curbed his impatience, and related in detail what he knew concerning the incidents of the tragedy.His hearers listened intently. There were features in this murder that gave it a certain distinction. The fact that it had been witnessed from such a distance through the field-glasses gave it a charm of novelty that a mere murder must otherwise have lacked. The men, who had hitherto been stealing many a sly glance toward the young woman with thedainty face and glowing eyes, now stared at her with open admiration for the one who had first seen the assassin's advance upon his victim, and had guessed his deadly purpose. All those present accepted the truth of the narrative without question. The young man's frank expression and the simplicity of his story, strange as it was, carried conviction. Moreover, it was well-nigh impossible to suspect this beautiful girl of any complicity in crime. So, the account was accepted by all hearers as truth, and it occurred to none even to question it.... To none, save one. And that one was he who, of his own knowledge, best knew that it was truth. Yet, he would question, and to some purpose—for his own safety's sake.The formalities of the occasion thus fully satisfied, the sheriff ordered the corpse removed to a back room in the hotel, where it was laid out on the table. Before replacing the blanket, the sheriff withdrew the blade of the knife from the dead man's breast.
p167t
THE ADVENTURERS WERE OF ALL SORTS. THEY WERE DRAWN ON BY THE LUST FOR RICHES.
The huskies yelped and snarled in fierce rivalry. Harry, the Dog-Man, snapped his whip with a vicious crack like the report of a gun. The dogs strained against the breast-straps in their fierce lunge forward. Along the line was everywhere impetuous, eager movement. The stampede had begun.
Dangerous Dan McGrew, who rode beside his wife, spoke to her softly, so that his question would not be overheard by Sam Ward, who rode on her other side:
"What does he say?"
Lou answered in a whisper:
"He'll leave to-night, when the camp's quiet, for his own claim."
From a nook on the mountainside, a lone man watched scornfully the long, thin line of the stampede.
Those same threads spun by the Fates had caught another in their mesh. In a lonely hut, there in the desolate Northland, Jim Maxwell had his home. His presence was needful for the weaving of that design by which right should be realized in the final presentation of life's tapestry. He had traveled thus far beyond the confines of civilization under the urge of that immutable purpose which drove him in all his wanderings throughout the years—to find the man he hated, and the woman he loved. He had sought vainly over all the world in the usual haunts of men—in many that were unusual. Never, anywhere, had he found a trace. He had come into this forbidding land, not forthe lure of gold, as the others had come; but for the lure of vengeance against the man who had despoiled him, and for the lure of love toward the woman who had his heart in her keeping.
Then, somehow, Jim Maxwell, when he found himself isolated there in a cabin amid the loneliness of this land, almost forgot vengeance, almost forgot love, in the immensity of the peace that brooded over the snow-clad wastes. In the hut he had built with his own hands, from spruce timbers, he was snugly sheltered against the austerities of the clime. He had fuel enough, of his gathering along the wooded slopes of the foot-hills. In the maw of the sheet-iron stove, which he had packed, the resinous branches were transmuted into dancing flames, redolent of warmth and cheer in the tiny room of the hut, though outside the blasts from the Pole were cold as the ice from which they came.
The day of his daughter's wedding—though he had no least suspicion that wife, orchild, or enemy was within thousands of miles—Jim made a round of his traps. In making the circuit, he was absorbed, without thought, for the time being, of the life that had been, without thought of vengeance, without thought of love. It was only after he had returned at nightfall to the hut, and had fried his mess of bacon on top of the red-hot stove, and had boiled his coffee hard, as one must in the North, where there is need of all the energy from food, that Jim sat down on his bunk of spruce boughs, ready for sleep—yet, for a moment, wakeful.
Then there sounded softly on his ears that old, old lyric of love. It was the song that had been played out of the feeling of his heart for his wife, in the years long gone. It was that improvisation with which he had told Lou his passion on the day when he had heard that Dan McGrew was coming to visit them. Now, Jim had no means of audible expression. Nevertheless, the song welled in him. It thrilled in every atom of his being. It was that same wonderful, joyous, lilting melody,full of life at its best. The tenderness of love rang in its cadences. Jim's fingers tensed—they were hungry to seize the chords, rapacious to pounce on the notes that voiced this heart-song of a lost happiness.
Jim aroused from the trance of memory. He looked to the fire, and rolled into the bunk.... He had heard, that day, in a native iglook, of a find of gold on Forgotten Creek. He recalled the fact drowsily as sleep fell on him.
"I'll take a look across the valley in the morning," he thought. "There's sure to be a stampede."
So it came about on the day following the marriage of Nell Ross and Jack Reeves that there was a watcher who looked out over the valley through which the long line of dogs and men hurried toward the possible riches of Forgotten Creek.
Jim seated himself on the trunk of a fallen spruce, high on the mountainside. From this point, he overlooked the whole length of the valley. He saw at last the animate line darting out of the distance, and watched as it became definite, with a smile of cynical amusement.... These were the hunters of gold. And gold—Bah! There were only two things in the world: love and vengeance.
From his seat on the fallen spruce, Jim Maxwell stared out over the valley. For hours he sat there. He saw the breaking up of the company, as its members scattered in various directions, now that they were come into the region of possible wealth. At the last, the valley showed clear of the human invaders.... And, just then, Jim Maxwell heard a sound, which already he had learned to know, there in the Northland. It was a gentle sound, but with a sibilance that held a threat of danger—like the hiss of a gigantic serpent.
As he heard, Jim instinctively let out a great shout of fear in the presence of this peril so close upon him. In the same moment, without pausing to look up, he dropped from the log on which he had been sitting, and crowded as closely under it as he could,to make it serve as a bulwark—though, indeed, he well knew the futility of such a protection against the avalanche that was now crashing down the slope. Crouched there beneath the log, Jim awaited the issue with an unuttered prayer for escape in his heart—if escape should be possible.
p176t
CROUCHED THERE BENEATH THE LOG, JIM AWAITED THE ISSUE.
In another instant the din of the snow-slide burst on his ears in its full fury. And, along with that thunderous noise, the daylight was blotted out. In the darkness, the man felt the soft, yet inexorable weight of the massed snow crushing upon him, holding him as in a vise. There was a tiny free space still beneath the log, and as yet he had no lack of air. But he was powerless to stir. He realized that there was no possibility of digging his way out through the heaped bulk of snow within which he lay entombed. He could find no room for hope. He resigned himself to meet the end with what fortitude he might. A wave of wrath swept through him that he must die thus futilely, with his vengeance unaccomplished. The emotion passed presently,and in its stead came a vast and poignant yearning for the woman he loved. By a fierce effort of will, he fought down such desires, which he deemed weakness at this time, and strove to look Death in the face calmly, with resignation and without fear.
Jack Reeves and his bride, despite the excellence of the young prospector's dog-team, lagged behind the others in the long line of the stampede, for the young husband had his own ideas concerning a location likely to yield the best results, and meant to let the crowd precede him, in order that he might pursue his course unmarked. So it came about that, after the straggling procession of gold-hunters had passed from the sight of Jim Maxwell, the newly married pair entered the valley, riding at ease behind the leisurely moving dogs. Jim Maxwell, from his position on the mountainside, held his gaze turned toward where the last of the stampeders had vanished, and so failed to observe the newcomers. Thus, when the avalanche swept down uponhim, he had no thought that his wild, instinctive cry for succor could be heard.
But it was. A quarter of a mile away, Jack Reeves heard the despairful shout; and Nell, too, heard it. Jack's quick gaze, darting in the direction of the sound, caught a glimpse of moving shadow against the white surface of the slope, as Jim dropped from the log to take shelter beneath it. At the same time, there came to Jack's ears the first noise of the avalanche's descent, and he understood fully how great was the peril of the unknown, whose cry for help he had heard. He called to his dogs savagely, and sent them forward toward the slope at speed. Before he had time to explain to the startled Nell, the rush and roar of the snow-slide made clear the situation to her, familiar as she was with this peril of the mountains. Yet, ere the hurtling masses of snow buried the spot where he had seen the moving shadow, Jack marked its location precisely by means of an outcropping ledge, just to the right of the tree-trunk. As he went forward swiftly, he noted with reliefthat the slide, which soon ceased, was a comparatively small one, though of a size sufficient to prove fatal to its victim, unless aided from without.
At the foot of the slope, some distance to the right of the freshly heaped-up snow, the sled was halted. Jack and Nell put on their snow-shoes, and, with a couple of spades from the pack, made their way with some difficulty to the jutting point of the ledge, which still protruded a little beyond the new covering of snow. A few feet to the left of this, they began to dig, working with feverish haste. They progressed rapidly, for the prospector was in the full prime of his manhood, with muscles like steel, and the girl, if less strong, was in equally perfect condition, and with training enough in the arduous life of the frontier to make the toil simple to her.
They had dug down perhaps a score of feet, and had reached, as Jack judged, almost to the ground, so that he feared lest he might have mistaken the location, when suddenly Nell rested motionless.
"Listen!" she commanded. Her tense face was radiant.
Jack ceased shoveling, and listened as he had been bidden.
There came a faint, strangely muffled sound. It came again—an indistinguishable, inarticulate mutter from somewhere under the snow at their feet.
Jack shouted triumphantly.
"By cricky, Nell," he cried joyously, "we've struck him, sure as sin!" He raised his voice to its full volume in a cheerful bellow, meant to reach the ears of the imprisoned man below:
"Buck up, old pal! We'll have you out in a jiffy." Then the bridal pair betook themselves to shoveling with the enthusiasm inspired by success.
There was no difficulty in the completion of the work of rescue. Very soon, the excavation reached the log under which Jim Maxwell was sheltered, and he was able to crawl forth with some difficulty, owing to cramped and aching muscles, but safe and sound. Hewas a little dazed over his escape, when he had resigned himself to hopelessness. It seemed to him as if a miracle had been wrought in his behalf by the timely appearance of these two, where he had believed there was none to aid him. His feeling of wonder was increased by the fact that one of these two who had saved him from death, and who now stood beside him supporting him, was a girl, whose dark, lovely face beneath the fur cap was alight with an almost maternal joy over the deliverance in which she had shared. The event seemed, somehow, to soften in a certain degree the nature of the man, embittered by long years of suffering under a grievous wrong. For almost the first time since the loss he had sustained at the hands of Dan McGrew, Jim Maxwell felt a warm emotion, which was close to tenderness. He continued to regard the two bewilderedly. But his voice, when at last he spoke, was firm, and vibrant with gratitude:
"You saved me—and I sha'n't forget it." He paused for a moment, then added whimsically:"I don't know who you are, or how you got here—unless you're two sure-enough angels, dropped plumb-straight down from heaven for this special occasion." The half-jesting note left his voice. "And I'll say just one thing: If you children ever need a friend, you can call on me, and I sha'n't fail you. In the meantime," he added briskly, "I want you to be my guests for the night. My cabin is near by—a little way up the gulch there."
Something in the dignity of his manner as he made the proffer of hospitality, some refinement of inflection in his tones, caused the listeners to look with new curiosity on this roughly dressed man, whose face was almost hidden beneath the thicket of beard. They were moved by a sudden, compelling respect for this uncouth-appearing dweller in the waste. It needed but a glance between husband and wife to ensure their acceptance of the invitation. So, presently, the three rode on together. They felt a certain unusual kindliness in their relation as host and guests.They attributed it, as far as they thought of the matter at all, to the peculiar manner of their meeting.... They could not guess that strands woven by the Fates had caught them in a mesh for the final right weaving of a perfect design.
After the horses had been given up and sent back, Lou, by Dan's arrangement, continued the journey on the sled of some men who were not properly of the stampeders, but were bound for Malamute. Dan himself, hardy as he was, had no difficulty in keeping up the pace with the best of the travelers on foot. He carried snow-shoes—for which he had no present need as the crust held—and a light pack on his back. The others of the stampeders regarded him as one of themselves, without ulterior purpose beyond the legitimate finding of gold somewhere in the creek-beds, or within the ledges of the mountains. Only Lou guessed aught of the evil project cherished by her husband. She had little compunction, for her sensibilities had become hardened with the passage of the years, and she had long ceased to regard herselfas in any wise the keeper of Dan's conscience.
Dan himself, as always, had no scruples, though he meant to add yet another to the list of his crimes. He went warily to his work. He held Sam Ward under close observation, but so discreetly that the victim of his watchfulness had no hint of it. As the train straggled out toward nightfall, Dan contrived to be near his intended victim, though not in company with him. Because of the information gathered by Lou, that the miner meant to steal away from the others during the night, Dangerous Dan had determined to keep a vigil during the hours of darkness, so that, when the miner slipped away by stealth, thinking himself unobserved by any one, he would be able to follow as stealthily, and thus to trace the owner to the secret mine.
To one of Dangerous Dan McGrew's accomplishments the task was very simple. The night was clear, and he became aware at once when Sam Ward prepared to set forth. He allowed the miner to proceed for a considerabledistance before following. Against the white surface of the snow, the moving form was distinguishable for a long way, and, since it alone in the expanse moved at all, it was not to be mistaken. But, while the miner was so distinctly visible to his pursuer, Dan McGrew had little fear of being himself observed, since no eyes were seeking his presence there. So, separated by a considerable distance, the two men advanced through the night, ascending at a smart pace from the level reaches of the valley to the lower slopes of the mountains. Here the spruce cast black shade, and often gorges lay deep in shadow. Dan was forced to lessen the distance between himself and the one he followed. Often, he was hard put to it to keep close enough on his quarry to be sure of the man's movements, without revealing his own presence on the trail. Some risks he took, since needs must. But the danger of discovery did not trouble Dangerous Dan, for he had never lacked courage, whatever his other vices.
It was in the gray of the dawn when at lastSam Ward halted, with a grunt of satisfaction, which the listening man, crouched behind a stump fifty yards away, plainly heard through the motionless chill air. The miner cast off the pack that he had carried throughout most of the day and all of the night, and began hasty preparations for pitching camp.... It was evident that Sam Ward had reached his destination.
Assured that this was the end of the journey, Dangerous Dan silently withdrew to a sheltered nook within the trees, a full quarter of a mile from the other's camp. Here he built a fire, without any fear of its light being seen by Sam Ward; for, besides the screen of trees, a high ridge intervened between the two camps. Dan, owing to the unusual mildness of the night, did not trouble with piling green logs against which to stack his fire, but contented himself with selecting a spot where a steep bank at his back aided in the retention of the heat.
Tired as he was, Dangerous Dan gathered sufficient fuel ready at hand, so that he mightreplenish the blaze, arousing instinctively from sleep as the flames died down. He guessed that the miner would sleep late, after the fatigue of the trip. But he allowed himself only two hours of rest; for he had yet much to do, and weariness must await leisure. Dan McGrew could sacrifice selfish desires for the time being in order to attain to selfish ends.
The sun was well above the horizon, when Dan McGrew at last arose reluctantly, and stamped out the dying embers. He rolled up his pack, but left it where he had camped. He carried a revolver with him, but he had no intention of using it, lest the report attract the attention of some chance prospector in the vicinity. He was not quite sure, even, that he meditated violence—it might not be necessary. But, before setting forth, he drew from its sheath, hidden within his bosom, a long, wicked-looking knife, the blade of which he examined approvingly, testing its edge with a bare thumb. When he had returned the weapon to its place of concealment, he wentforward very cautiously, his feet leaving hardly a trace of their passage over the snow-crust. He took advantage of the shelter afforded by bushes and trees, so that his approach might not be detected. Thus, he came finally to a vantage point behind a clump of bushes, which grew on a little knoll. Below this, hardly a score of yards away, was Sam Ward's camp.
The miner was just arousing from sleep, when Dan reached this point of observation. While the hidden man watched attentively, Sam Ward replenished the fire, and hastily prepared a breakfast, which he devoured even more hastily. Forthwith, then, he set about the serious business of the day. To the watcher's surprise, the miner removed a heap of firewood, which had been stacked against the sloping bank, some distance above a tiny frozen stream. When the branches had been thrown aside, there was revealed an opening through the snow, and on into the earth itself. It was evident that the miner had already tunneled into the ledge.
Now, he got dynamite from his pack, and set it carefully where it might thaw out within the radius of heat from the fire. Thereafter, he crawled into the tunnel, and was occupied out of the watcher's sight for some time. On emergence, he examined the dynamite, and, satisfied with its condition, took it, along with caps and fuse, on his return into the tunnel. This time, he was gone for only a short interval. Presently, came a dull rumble as the explosive detonated within the earth. The miner reëntered the tunnel, carrying a bag. When he brought this forth, he was staggering under the weight it contained.
p177t
DAN McGREW, STARING DOWN WITH HUNGRY EYES, SAW THE MINER.
Dan McGrew, staring down with hungry eyes, saw the miner pound the fragments of rock to powder in a roughly contrived mortar, which was set beside the fire. Dangerous Dan had learned enough of gold-mining to understand that the miner had chanced on a quartz lead of the richest sort. Undoubtedly, it was a vein of considerable size which would assay thousands of dollars to the ton. It was free-milling ore. The rough method employedby the miner was sufficient to secure the golden treasure. Now, when he had made an end of crushing the bits of rock, Sam descended to the creek, where he chopped a hole through the ice, and so, after great labor, was able to winnow the dust. Dan McGrew was able to see the golden stream of tiny flakes that the miner at last poured into his poke, with chuckles of glee. The watcher's steady eyes narrowed and grew savage, for black envy and avarice filled his heart. Of a sudden, his vague purpose became crystallized.... He would have this mine for his own—at any cost.
Dangerous Dan looked over the scene carefully, as he made his plans. The little stream, above which the miner had encamped, ran straight between shallow banks out into a broad valley beyond. Dan was sure that he could advance to a point on the slope where he would be just above his unsuspecting prey. Thence, he could drop down on the miner, who, all unconscious of any peril, squatted before the fire gloating over his treasure. A single blow of the knife would put a term tohis ownership of the mine. Afterward, it would be a simple matter to conceal the body in some cranny where only the wolves would be likely to scent it out. And Dan McGrew would have the treasure-house for his own.
His decision made, Dan acted upon it at once. It came about according to his calculations—with two exceptions:
The first was that, as he leaped upon his victim from behind, some faintest sound of movement, or some subtle instinct in the victim, gave warning. Sam Ward sprang to his feet, whirling as he rose. The lust of gold was in him, too. On the instant, he understood the death that threatened and the cause of it. He fought for his life and his gold with all the strength that was in him. He got his hands to his assailant's throat, and the fingers clutched in a clutch meant to kill. Dangerous Dan's eyes goggled from his head as he strangled within that grip. But he did not forget, even in his anguish, either his purpose or his advantage. He thrust the knife with all his power into the miner's breast. For asecond that seemed to endure for an eternity, Dan was still held in the vice-like grasp. Then abruptly, there came a gurgling moan from Sam Ward's lips. The clenched fingers relaxed. Dan thrust the form of his adversary from him. The haft of the knife, which he still held in his right hand, was broken from the blade by the wrench of the inert body, as it fell and went limply sliding down the slope toward the creek.
p202t
HE FOUGHT FOR HIS LIFE AND HIS GOLD WITH ALL THE STRENGTH THAT WAS IN HIM.
Dan McGrew gazed on the grim descent with eyes that were dull still from the deadly grapple. His breath came in sobs. He was triumphant, but he realized how close he had been to failure.
Then, a minute later, when his brain and his sight were clear again, he suddenly uttered a frightful curse....
In the wide expanse of the valley into which the creek flowed, a sled moved rapidly, as the dogs strained in their harness. And it was coming straight toward the creek—toward the place where he stood. Dangerous Dan McGrew cursed yet once again—and morehorribly. Then, he leaped down the slope to where the dead body had halted. He stooped over it—searched with desperate rapidity. A moment later, with the poke of gold and a few papers from the dead man, Dangerous Dan raced back up the bank, and on, flying from the spot where he had committed a crime so great for a reward so small.
The bridal pair were at once astonished and gratified by the entertainment offered them in this remote wilderness. There was nothing remarkable in their surroundings at the cabin. The fare provided was of the simplest. The effect on the two visitors was produced wholly by the personality of the man himself. As the men sat in easy communion over their pipes, while Nell listened eagerly, Jim Maxwell, still under the influence of that softer feeling aroused by gratitude to the two who had rescued him, relaxed from the usual aloofness toward his fellows, and talked of many things in a manner of singular charm. Jack Reeves had had excellent advantages in education, before ever the spirit of adventure drove him toward the Arctic. As he perceived the extent of the older man's experience,he plied his host with questions. To these, Jim responded readily—at first from courtesy, and then, moved by patent interest on the part of his hearers, with a certain enthusiasm. He found a long-forgotten pleasure in thus speaking at ease of the things he felt to sympathetic auditors. In the years of his wandering and suffering, the man's nature had deepened and mellowed, even though it was shut within the crust of bitterness. So, to-night, he gave himself unreservedly to this new mood of genial intercourse. He marveled over his own changed mood, but indulged it to the full, nevertheless. In a gentle, unfamiliar fashion, Jim Maxwell was almost happy to-night—almost happy, for the first time in twelve years.
Nell's presence moved him deeply, though she sat silent for the most part. Her close attention was a compliment greater than any words she could have uttered. Jim Maxwell felt this, and yielded to the inspiration of it. He was by no means unaware of the piquant loveliness of the girl. His critical appreciationwas betrayed by many swift, penetrating glances at the rapt face. The dusk, lucent beauty of her eyes especially appealed to him. In them, he glimpsed her soul, full of the joy of life, a-thrill with expectation of the happiness that awaited, pure and undaunted by any fear of evil. As he looked on her, Jim's admiring gaze was always a little wistful. Since the tragedy in his life, women had had no interest for him, because he had lost her whom he loved. To-night, somehow, it was different. He felt himself strangely drawn to this unknown girl. His heart stirred toward her. It was not an emotion of which even a bridegroom could complain—it was something utterly untouched by any instinct of sex, something subtle and exquisite. Jim himself could not understand his feeling in the least. Only, he yielded to the spell of it with delight.
The host left his guests in possession, when it came the hour for retiring. He was deaf to their remonstrances, and betook himself to an outbuilding, which had been his first shelter in this place, before the making of the cabin.
Left alone with her husband, Nell spoke musingly, very softly:
"What a wonderful man, Jack! He is the sort of man I should like—" She broke off, staring with vaguely puzzled, unseeing eyes at the glowing stove.
"Now, what do you mean by that?" the bridegroom demanded, with asperity.
Nell aroused from introspection at the shortness of the husband's tone. Then she laughed.
"Don't be absurd, goosie!" she bantered. "I actually believe you'd like to be jealous of the first man I've met on our honeymoon." Her voice softened. "Well, you needn't be. But he is a dear, all the same."
Something in her tone quelled the young husband's impulse of alarm. Straightway, he spoke his own admiration, without further jealousy.
"He sure is a wonder," he declared emphatically. "He's one of the sort who could make himself at home—and make himself the center of attraction, too—anywhere around the world, with high or low or Jack or the game."
A little later, he spoke again, reflectively:
"I wonder what he did!"
"What he did!" Nell repeated, bewildered.
"Whether he robbed a bank, or just murdered somebody," Jack explained.
Nell flared.
"He's not that sort!" she flung at him. Then, her eyes grew dreamy again.
"But," she added—and there was a note of sympathetic tenderness in her voice—"perhaps it was something that somebody else did."
"Eh?" Jack demanded, perplexed in his turn.
"I mean," Nell said, half-apologetically, "perhaps it was something—some crime even—some one else did that made Mr. Maxwell come away off here, to live alone in the mountains. A man like him!"
Next morning, Jack and Nell went on their way, almost regretfully, so great was the impression made upon both by this man whom they had rescued from death. Still withouthaste, Jack drove his dogs over the level valley-crust. As it drew toward night, he selected for his camp a point where a few stunted spruce grew a little way up the slope.
"I guess we're alone in our glory," he commented, as his eyes swept the scene. "Not a stampeder in sight—and I'm glad of it. You see," he continued, as Nell looked at him inquiringly, "I've been over this way before. There's a creek flows in here from the other side of the valley. I was up it once. It showed some prospects. I'd like another look at it—without any stampeders by. And there's not a one in sight."
"I wonder!" While Jack went to straighten out the over-lively dogs, Nell took the field-glasses from their case, and amused herself with a careful scrutiny of this white world over which now lay a purpling glamour as the sun sank wearily below the horizon.
Suddenly, there was a moving blur, a fleeting black shadow, in the line of vision. Hitherto, there had been no sign of life anywhere. This trace of activity, in the stillnessof the snow-clad wild, interested her, even startled her a little, though she had no thought that it could be more than a glimpse of some stampeder plodding through the distance.
Nell adjusted the glasses, and sought again. Then, in a flash, she saw clearly—a camp-fire burning, a man squatted close to the flames. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the scene. It was not the sight of camp-fire and man beside it that caused Nell's cheek to pale, that caused her hand to shake, until for a moment the vision was blurred, that caused the little gasp from her lips. It was another figure thus revealed there in the far distance that so affected her—another figure high up on the slope, which moved with a craftiness and stealth that were in themselves sinister. These were the slinking movements of a beast of prey. But the figure was that of a man.
Nell called to Jack—softly, as if she feared lest, across the valley-space, that skulking man might hear her cry.
When Jack came to her, Nell put the glasses in his hands.
"Look there!" she directed, and pointed. Afterward, she sat tensed and apprehensive in her place on the sled, while her husband stood at her side, and looked as she had bidden him.
An ejaculation burst from Jack as his eyes caught the action in that drama across the valley. Through a long minute, and another, he rested rigid, silent. Suddenly, with an imprecation, he tossed the glasses toward Nell. He pointed desperately across the valley, then sprang to the dogs, and straightened them out, his voice so harsh that they cringed under it.
p203t
HE POINTED DESPERATELY ACROSS THE VALLEY.
"Mush!" he yelled savagely, and the whiplash hissed its message to the leaders.... They were off at full speed.
"Too late!" Jack groaned, as the dogs bounded forward. "Oh, damn him! I hope he hangs for it—the dirty murderer!"
It was, indeed, too late. When they were come up the lesser valley, through which the creek ran, to a point near where the body of Sam Ward was lying, Jack halted the dogs, and went forward alone. He would not yield to Nell's pleadings that she be allowedto accompany him. He was not minded that she should thus look on the assassin's victim.
Jack returned very soon.
"Dead as a door-nail!" he said shortly. His face was a little pale under the bronze of open-air living. "A knife-blade in his chest—handle broken off. We've seen the chap. It was Sam Ward. Had a secret mine, they said."
Jack chose a camp-site close at hand, to which he removed the body of the murdered man, so that it would be protected from any prowling wolf. He brought down to his camp the dead man's pack, and he covered the still and rigid shape decently with one of the blankets that had been Sam Ward's. He made no attempt to trace the assassin. To have done so would have been useless in itself, and would have been to risk the like death. Nor did he make even a cursory search for the secret mine. He had no wish for personal profit out of this grewsome event. On the contrary, he was willing to delay his operations in the mountains, in order that hemight deliver the corpse to the authorities, and make known to them the facts in the case.
"We'll put him on the sled in the morning," he said to Nell, who was very quiet, and who turned her eyes from time to time fearfully toward a place just on the edge of the firelight, where flickering shadows danced grotesquely over a deeper shadow—a shadow huge and misshapen and menacing.
"We'll take him up to Kalmak. It's a little place on the way to Malamute. But they have a sheriff, and that's what we need."
And neither he nor his wife, who looked from time to time affrightedly toward the shadows, had any hint as to the irony that the Fates had put into the husband's concluding words.
Dan McGrew, from a point of safe concealment, watched the coming of the sled with keen interest. He was still furious over the miscarriage in his plans caused by this arrival. There was no longer possibility of his holding the secret of the mine for himself. In return for the blood on his hands, he had gained a single poke of gold-dust. His chief concern now was the evading of any possible suspicion against himself. His thoughts were busy with this problem of safety. At his distance, and in the darkening light, he could not make out the identity of the man who examined the body of Sam Ward, and afterward removed it. Since Nell did not leave the sled, he did not guess even that one of the two was a woman. But it did occur to him that, since the arrival of these persons had thwarted his evil hopes, it would befitting that they themselves should serve his need as the scape-goats of suspicion.
Once this idea had stirred in his brain, Dangerous Dan found little difficulty in planning the accomplishment of his designs. He remained in hiding, without venturing even to light a fire though he was hard put to it to resist the numbing cold. It was not till some hours after nightfall, when he judged the two in their camp safely asleep, that Dangerous Dan acted on the plan he had formed.
He crept with the utmost caution down the slope, and made a wide détour, so as to come near the camp to windward of the point where he heard the little yelps and whinings of dogs restless in their sleep. The night was clear, and, even within the shadows of the trees about the camp, Dan could see distinctly where the sled stood outside the limit of the firelight. Toward this, with increased care and slowness in the progress, Dan made his way.
He had almost reached the sled, when he stumbled over what he had deemed merely adeeper shadow beside it, and sprawled forward. To save himself from falling, he thrust out his right hand. The palm touched something cold—with a coldness beyond that of the arctic air. It was the face of the man whom he had slain, from off which his rough contact had thrust the blanket. And Dan McGrew knew the thing for what it was.
Strong man that he was, he was sickened. For a little, he stood there shivering, unnerved by the grisly encounter. But it was only the shock that had unmanned him. Presently, his courage rose again. He grinned to himself, standing there in the dark over the dead body. Here was nothing to be afraid of, he said to himself in brutal disdain of his own weakness. So, soon, he went on again, quite undismayed, to carry out his purpose.
Noiselessly, Dangerous Dan fumbled over the pack on the sled for some minutes. Once, he put a hand in his pocket, and drew forth something, which he disposed within the wrappings of the pack. Finally, he readjusted everything, as nearly as he could by thesense of touch, to the condition in which he had found it. Only, there was something added to the contents. For once in his life, Dangerous Dan had not been a robber. Yet, never had his intent been more deadly.
His task thus accomplished, the man withdrew as silently as he had come. Nevertheless, despite his bravado, he was at pains to tread aside, lest he brush a second time against that blanketed form.
Jack and Nell were up and away early. They made good speed with the grewsome burden on the sled. They ran easily without snow-shoes, for the crust still held. Jack was distressed that his bride should be unable to ride luxuriously on their honeymoon. But for this Nell cared not at all. In her youth and perfect health, the physical activity was, in truth, a pleasure, rather than a toil. But she was disturbed by the presence of that grim thing which they escorted. She could not avoid yielding in some measure to superstition. The radiant joy of her bridalwas quenched by this tragedy that had followed so close upon it, and into association with which they had been forced by circumstance. Her mood was oppressed with forebodings. She was all anxiety to reach Kalmak, where they might be rid of this ill-omened clay. So, she urged Jack often to increase the pace. And he, for his part, hardly less sensitive to this malignant influence at such a time, consented readily enough, hurrying on the dogs with whip and voice.... The train swung into Kalmak in mid-afternoon—at least an hour sooner than it would have made the distance with a lighter load.
p220t
SHE WAS DISTURBED BY THE PRESENCE OF THAT GRIM THING WHICH THEY ESCORTED.
Jack halted the dogs before the very unpretentious structure that was inappropriately designated the Grand Hotel. At sound of the arrival, those within hurried forth, eager for any interruption of the day's monotony. Among the others came a tall, lank man, with a lantern-jawed face and a drooping, melancholy mustache, whom Jack recognized as Hal Owens, the sheriff. He himself, however, was not known to Owens, or to any of thosepresent, nor was Nell, as they were speedily to learn to their sorrow. Another face in the group was vaguely familiar to both the young husband and his bride. Jack, for the moment, could not recall where he had seen this stalwart, handsome man, who stood with a masterful erectness, emphasized by his frank and fearless gaze. But Nell, in the instant of seeing the stranger, recollected him perfectly, though she had seen him but once in a fleeting glance. She remembered how he had appeared on her wedding-day, and how he had regarded her with that cynical smile, which had aroused in her an inexplicable sense of dismay, a fear of mysterious disasters, past or to come. It seemed to her appropriate enough that now this man should be present to welcome her and her husband as they brought in their ghastly load. Again, she experienced a curious repugnance in meeting the steady stare that seemed to probe into her soul with a mocking amusement. Nell wrenched her eyes from his, and turned away with a little shudder of revulsion. Then, the naturalbuoyancy of her spirits asserted itself. After all, this man, who affected her so strangely, was nothing to them—could be nothing to them. And they were at last free of the horrible incubus that had been thrust upon them. The dead body was now gone out of their charge, was become the property of the law. She smiled, a little wanly, while her eyes moved over the roughly garbed cluster of men. She was glad—oh, so glad!—that miserable interruption of their honeymoon was done and over.
Jack addressed the sheriff briskly, himself almost as anxious as Nell to have done with this wretched matter.
"This is your business, Sheriff. I've brought in the body of a chap who got killed out Forgotten Creek way, yesterday afternoon."
The sheriff nodded with what he took to be the dignity befitting his authority.
"The coroner should set on the corpse," he said gravely, pleased at this display of his familiarity with legal phrases. "In his absence—bein'there hain't none—I reckon I'll do the best I kin."
He strode to the sled, and pulled aside the blanket that had concealed the dead man's face. He turned to the men who had crowded around.
"Anybody know him?" he demanded, authoritatively.
There was a chorus of grunts in negation.
Then, as the others fell silent, Jack spoke again:
"I knew him by sight, though I never spoke to him. His name was Sam Ward. They said he'd struck it rich—a secret mine somewhere in the mountains."
"Know anything more about him?" The sheriff's voice was heavy with responsibility.
Jack made an impatient gesture.
"He was in the stampede that came up to Forgotten Creek day before yesterday. You know?"
"I know," the sheriff assented. "What else do you know?"
"I know he's dead," Jack snapped. He washeartily sick of this business, and his temper grew strained. "If you have any doubt about it," he added sarcastically, "why, I saw him killed."
There was a general start of surprise over this bald announcement. The sheriff, however, preserved his official composure.
"That ought to help some," was his response. "Supposin' now, you fire ahead, an' tell all you know about this corpse o' your'n."
"No corpse of mine!" Jack retorted gruffly, more than ever annoyed, while Nell felt a qualm of new dread at the sheriff's ambiguous words. But Jack curbed his impatience, and related in detail what he knew concerning the incidents of the tragedy.
His hearers listened intently. There were features in this murder that gave it a certain distinction. The fact that it had been witnessed from such a distance through the field-glasses gave it a charm of novelty that a mere murder must otherwise have lacked. The men, who had hitherto been stealing many a sly glance toward the young woman with thedainty face and glowing eyes, now stared at her with open admiration for the one who had first seen the assassin's advance upon his victim, and had guessed his deadly purpose. All those present accepted the truth of the narrative without question. The young man's frank expression and the simplicity of his story, strange as it was, carried conviction. Moreover, it was well-nigh impossible to suspect this beautiful girl of any complicity in crime. So, the account was accepted by all hearers as truth, and it occurred to none even to question it.... To none, save one. And that one was he who, of his own knowledge, best knew that it was truth. Yet, he would question, and to some purpose—for his own safety's sake.
The formalities of the occasion thus fully satisfied, the sheriff ordered the corpse removed to a back room in the hotel, where it was laid out on the table. Before replacing the blanket, the sheriff withdrew the blade of the knife from the dead man's breast.