p221tTHE FORMALITIES FULLY SATISFIED, THE SHERIFF ORDERED THE CORPSE REMOVED."It's a clew," he explained, with obvious admiration for his own sagacity, as he wiped the blackened blood from the blade upon the blanket.Dan McGrew had followed the four men who, at the sheriff's direction, carried the body into the hotel. He was known here, as through most of the region round about, where he was regarded as an honest gambler—for his methods had improved in the twelve years since his discomfiture by Fingie Whalen.To be here at this time, Dangerous Dan McGrew had employed the resources of both mind and body. His reasoning had convinced him that Kalmak would be Jack's destination in the trip. He had been obliged to risk the correctness of this conclusion in order that he might be free to start for the village at once, after completing his night-visit to the young man's camp. Since he must travel on foot, and slowly because of increasing fatigue, he had need of all the time he could gain for the journey, in order to reach the scene first. He had succeeded. Even, he had had timefor an hour's sleep, which was craved by every atom in his body after a day and two nights of almost constant exertion.So, now, Dan McGrew was on the spot, alert and arrogant with evil purpose. He stepped close to the sheriff, and spoke so that the others could not overhear. He knew the harmless vanity of the official, and meant to play upon it for his own ends, by letting the other take credit on himself for great shrewdness."You think that youngster's story is a bit fishy, I see!" Dan remarked; and there was deep admiration in his voice.The sheriff, who had thought nothing of the sort, immediately assumed an air of suspicion, and nodded assent."Fishy—very!" he agreed."Of course," Dan continued deprecatingly, as if even to question this were an impertinence on his part, "you'll search that young man's pack?"The sheriff nodded glumly."It's my sworn duty to do jest that."Dan sauntered away, well content. He went out of the hotel, and stood unobtrusively among the other idlers, watching while Jack and Nell, restored to the best of spirits by the completion of their unpleasant duty, were now laughing and chatting together as they busied themselves about the sled.Presently appeared the sheriff. He approached the sled, and spoke with a harshness he had not hitherto displayed."Young feller, I'll jest take a look through your pack."Jack and Nell glanced up in amazement at the tone no less than at the words."But what—what the devil do you mean?" Jack demanded, wrathfully."Never you mind what I mean, young feller," was the offended retort. The sheriff threw back the lapel of the heavy outer coat he wore, and showed a silver shield. "There's my authority," he sternly announced. "I'll jest take a squint through your belongin's."Jack and Nell protested, but their protests were in vain. The sheriff in explanationvouchsafed only a single word, most contemptuously uttered:"Fishy!"In the end, the young pair stood by in mute indignation, while the official search was prosecuted.... They had one consolation in the presence of this outrage: The search would prove its own absurdity.The issue came on them like a thunderbolt. From somewhere in the pack, the sheriff's groping fingers drew forth an object, which he held up that all might see. It was undoubtedly the bone handle of a large knife. Without a word, the sheriff reached into a pocket of his coat, and brought forth the blade which had been in the dead man's breast. Still without a word, while all looked on in breathless tension, he put blade and haft together. They fitted perfectly.The sheriff's mouth, under the drooping mustache, twisted in a triumphant grin. An amazed consternation held Jack and Nell silent for the moment in the face of this damning evidence against them. The sheriffmoved forward a step, and laid his hand on Jack's shoulder."Young feller," he said heavily, "I arrest you in the name of the law, for the murder of Sam Ward, deceased. And don't say anythin'," he added, in paraphrase of the legal formula, "for what you say will be used agin ye."CHAPTER XVIIThe catastrophe that had thus put an end to the honeymoon, drove the unfortunate husband and wife almost to despair. The thing was monstrous, incredible. Nevertheless, it had occurred. Jack raged against the unjust accusation which Dan McGrew had caused to be laid against him; but neither his wrath nor his entreaties were powerful enough to create even a doubt on the part of the public of Kalmak as to his guilt. The evidence against him was, in fact, incontrovertible. His case was made the worse, also, by the absence of any one who could vouch for his character. Given time, he could easily enough summon witnesses in his behalf, though even then the issue might be uncertain. He had no plausible explanation to offer concerning the presence of the knife-handle among his effects. He could only deny allknowledge of how it came there. And such denial was utterly valueless, as Jack himself realized with utter discouragement.As for Nell, there was only a single thing to mitigate her misery, and of this she was hardly conscious. It was that she herself was not subjected to the indignity of arrest. In this matter, the chivalry of the community worked in her behalf. These men of the Northland were not of a sort to war against women. They left such warfare to a more complex state of civilization.But, in truth, no arrest was needed for the unhappy bride. Nothing could have tempted her to leave the place where her husband was in peril. Indeed, she was like a thorn in the side of the sheriff's ideas concerning official strictness and decorum—and rose as well as thorn; for the winsome loveliness of this suffering girl disturbed him greatly, so that he was fain to grant her privileges which ill accorded with his conception of official etiquette. It was owing to this laxness under Nell's persuasion that she was permitted to interviewher husband, though separated from him by the heavy grating in the cell-door, and though fretted by the presence of the sheriff himself, who sat within ear-shot, and forbade secret communication.... Those interviews harrowed the souls of the lovers, for, though each strove to cheer the other, neither could understand how this calamity had come to pass. Nell occupied the intervals between visits to her husband in frantic efforts to devise some means of proving Jack's innocence, or in pitiable weeping, shut within her squalid hotel-room.p230tNELL WAS PERMITTED TO INTERVIEW HER HUSBAND.It was in the forenoon of the day following his arrest that the prisoner had his first glimmer of hope. It came to him while he was surveying for the thousandth time the roughly-hewn timbers that made the walls of his cell. He had long ago admitted the uselessness of trying to break out, inasmuch as he had not even a penknife with which to work. Yet, now, as his glance roved the tiny room, his eyes lighted with hope.Forthwith, Jack began plotting escape. He understood that his situation was most desperate. The sheriff, who from pride in his office had added the cell to his log-house at his own expense, was fond of sitting on guard in the adjoining room; not so much for the sake of precaution against the prisoner's escape, as for pleasure in receiving visitors, in the full majesty of his office. And Jack had heard some of the low-spoken remarks of the visitors among themselves. He knew that these men of primitive emotions looked upon him as a murderer, and were disposed to end the affair in a lynching-bee. Only the sheriff interposed between him and such a fate, and the man was by no means strong enough to stand against a mob. Therefore, Jack was convinced that the only possibility of safety lay in flight. And that flight must be made at once, or it would be too late.Little by little, the details of a plan were evolved. He went over the matter with every care, knowing well that he risked his life on the accuracy of each detail in his device. Some ideas he rejected; others, after muchtesting and readjustment, were approved. In the end, he became confident that his method might win success—confident that it would.His preparations thus complete up to the point of action, the prisoner did not delay the action itself. For that matter, the opportunity he desired at the outset was offered to him almost immediately after he had decided upon his course.The sheriff, who was a kindly soul, apart from the sternness compelled by his ideas of high office, repeated a favor he had already shown the prisoner, by coming to the grating, and thrusting forward a cigar."Smoke up, young feller," he said.Jack took the cigar with due expressions of gratitude, and he was at pains to conceal the new hopeful eagerness that filled him."And here's the match, young feller," the sheriff continued, as he held it forth. It was one of the regulations formulated by himself that the inmates of the jail should not be allowed possession of matches.Of that regulation, Jack was already aware,and to secure its evasion, he now acted. As the sheriff turned away, in pursuance of his principle of not encouraging familiarity on the part of a prisoner, Jack tossed the match to the floor, where it lay invisible in the light which shone in from the other room. Then he addressed the sheriff, with becoming humility."I'm sorry, Sheriff, but the match went out."Dan McGrew, in the sheriff's place, would have demanded the return of that match. Instead, the official turned back promptly, and gave another, with which the prisoner succeeded in lighting his cigar. The sheriff, seated at his table, could not see the captive, who stooped and picked up from the floor the first match, and put it away in his pocket with extraordinary care.Thereafter, still careful to escape observation by the sheriff, Jack got out a stub of pencil which he had been allowed to retain. He secured a small fragment of paper from the untidy litter on the floor of the cell. Then, he hastily scribbled a brief note. This wasrolled up into a tiny cylinder with the writing on the inner side. By liberal moistening with his tongue he managed to make the roll retain its shape. Having accomplished all he could for the time being, the prisoner, with the cylinder in his pocket, awaited the coming of Nell.The wife's advent was not long delayed. Within the hour, the girl appeared before the sheriff, softly appealing in voice, more softly appealing in the gaze of her misty eyes. The official strove to frown, but only succeeded in smirking shamefacedly."I suppose it can't do any harm to let you chin a little," he said grudgingly. "But remember now," he added, shaking a warning finger at the visitor, "no whispering, an' keep your hands in plain sight all the time. An' I'll have my eyes on you, you bet!"With a murmur of thanks, Nell went forward to the grating, where she stood with her hands duly exposed against the metal bars. Husband and wife exchanged greetings as best they could, thus forced to speak aloud so that the sheriff could hear every word. Yet,without anything said to warrant it, Nell knew instantly that her husband's mood had changed. There was a light in his eyes, a smile on his lips. And, too, he nodded almost imperceptibly, very mysteriously. Nell felt her own spirits rise in response. They spoke of sending to Malamute for a lawyer. They spoke of securing proof against the actual murderer—at which the sheriff smiled.But the sheriff, though he listened so intently, did not watch with equal closeness. He glanced over some of the papers lying before him.It was Jack who watched carefully, for much was now at stake. As he saw the sheriff's gaze averted, he parted his lips, and with his tongue pushed forward the tiny cylinder of paper, which on the instant of Nell's arrival, he had placed in his mouth.The wife perceived the protruding roll in astonishment. Jack moved his head forward, puckering his lips as for a kiss. Nell understood. She turned instinctively. The sheriff's eyes were still on his papers. At once,then, the girl put her own lips to the opening in the grating, where Jack's waited. The mouths of the two met in a kiss that lingered. The sheriff looked up, and saw the kiss. He noted that the hands of the two were duly exposed, as required by the regulation in such case made and provided.p231tTHE MOUTHS OF THE TWO MET IN A KISS THAT LINGERED.Nell took her departure forthwith. Her murmur of thanks to the sheriff for his kindness was a trifle indistinct. That excellent officer observed the fact. Also, he was inclined to believe that the unfortunate young woman appeared somewhat cheered by her visit to the murderer—though what there could be cheering in such a situation, the sheriff could not guess.CHAPTER XVIIIIn the solitude of her bleak chamber, Nell hastened to take from her mouth the cylinder of paper that Jack had given her. Moist as it was, when unrolled it lay flat, and the writing on the inner side was decipherable without difficulty.The note lacked address or signature, since neither was needed. But the curt words filled Nell with rapture:Have found way to escape. Go to Maxwell, ask him for help. Have him somewhere near the village on his side by eleven o'clock to-night.With the reading, Nell took new heart of hope. She could not guess the means that her husband had devised for his escape from the jail, but the confident tone in which he had written to her gave promise of success.Her own part in the plan was simple enough. It only required that she act promptly in its execution. It occurred to her that Mr. Maxwell might be absent from the cabin, following the line of his traps. The thought of possible delay in the performance of her mission struck a chill to the eager wife's heart. At once, then, she was in a fever of impatience to be off and away.Nell made her preparations swiftly. At her order, the dogs were harnessed to the sled, and were ready at the door of the hotel, as she issued forth. The news that the murderer's bride was about to start out, spread through the village like wild-fire. The sheriff himself appeared on the scene, as Nell was at the point of departure. He shook his head dolefully; but, to the girl's immense relief, he did not offer to detain her.p248tTHE DOGS WERE READY—AT THE DOOR OF THE HOTEL—AS SHE ISSUED FORTH."I dunno," he remarked doubtfully, "what you git by goin', an' I dunno neither what you'd git by stayin', fer the matter o' that."Anyhow, a wife can't testify agin her husband,so I hain't got any call to hang on to ye."That was his valedictory.Nell wasted neither words nor smiles on the assembly. She had no kindly feeling toward these men, who had dared accuse her husband of crime. Her sole response to the sheriff's statement was a crack of the whip and a lively cry to the dogs, which leaped forward with a speed and surety of movement in the splendidly muscled bodies that made the watchers exclaim admiringly.There was now no leisurely progress, such as had been that with which she and her husband had traversed the miles together, before death brought tragedy to their bridal-journey. Nell, in two years of her living in the North, had learned the management of these animals, on which transportation over the snowy expanses of the Arctic so depends. She knew well how to get from her team every ounce of speed, and she did not spare them in the least. The crust still held, so that the going was ofthe best. Mechanically, with the instinct that develops quickly in those who live among the wilds, Nell had noted each salient detail of the route followed by her and Jack. So, now, she was sure of her course, and drove the dogs at full speed on and on, following the levels of interwoven valleys with never a hint of hesitation.It was late afternoon when, at last, Nell found herself passing along the valley where they had lingered behind the line of the stampede. Hope mounted higher here; for only a few miles still separated her from the man whose aid she sought.In turn, despair smote her at thought of the possibility that this Mr. Maxwell might be absent—might even not return that night. She had a dreadful vision of Jack, escaped from his prison, yet helpless, without dogs or supplies, doomed to perish in the cold. She resolved that, should other help be wanting, she herself would return alone to meet him. She took a little encouragement from this determination, until it occurred to her that therewere limits to the endurance of the dogs. Then, again, desolation fell on her. But, at least, they would be together!... Thus, her thoughts rioted in the stress of anxiety.Anxiety became an anguished suspense, when, finally, she saw the tiny bulk of the cabin, showing darkly against the white of the valley-slope. As the dogs raced nearer, she stared with fierce eagerness to catch some sign of life. She was in terror when she made sure that no smoke issued from the chimney. One does not sit at home fireless in the Far North. A great fear was on her as she halted the dogs before the cabin-door, and none came forth to greet her.Nell's misery, like that of most persons in this world of mistaken ideas, was of her own making. Hardly had she clambered down stiffly from the sled, when the cabin-door swung open, and Jim Maxwell stepped out. At sight of his visitor, whom he recognized in the first glance, he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment, and advanced toward her quickly. His thought on seeing her alonethus before his cabin was that some serious accident must have befallen her husband. He was deeply concerned over the girl's plight, and sympathy showed in his face with a sincerity of feeling that touched the girl deeply—so deeply, indeed, that for a few seconds after he was come to her, she could only stand wordless, with her hands in his firm clasp, her eyes glowing with the gratitude and the relief with which his presence inspired her.Jim Maxwell's voice was softer than it had been in more than a decade of years."Why, child, what's the matter?" he asked soothingly. "Whatever it is, we'll make it come out all right. Tell me about it."Nell choked down her emotion, and presently regained a fair degree of self-control."Oh, I'm so glad—so glad you're here, Mr. Maxwell!" Her voice throbbed with feeling. It stirred to a new life a joy long dead in the man's bosom—joy in the realization that some one wanted him. It had been twelve years since any one had wanted him."Tell me," he repeated. His tone was evengentler than before. The warmth of it cheered the girl like a draft of rich wine.Nell fumbled at her bosom for a moment, and drew forth the note that Jack had written. She held it out, and Jim Maxwell took it from her, and read it through with growing astonishment.p249tJIM MAXWELL TOOK THE NOTE FROM HER AND READ IT THROUGH WITH GROWING ASTONISHMENT.After he had scanned it for a second time, he looked up at the expectant girl, with a puzzled, though no less kindly, glance."But what does it all mean?" he asked. "I suppose the note is from your husband?""Yes," assented Nell hurriedly. "He's going to escape."Jim patted the girl's hand reassuringly."Now, just take it easy," he counseled. "You must remember that I don't know a thing about it. So, you're going to tell me everything that's happened, and what your husband is going to escape from."The calmness of the speaker's voice quieted Nell's excitement, and she proceeded to relate without confusion an outline of what had occurred."Poor little girl!" her listener said tenderly, when the narrative was concluded. "Well, he did right to send word to me. I owe you two more than I can pay. And don't you worry, my dear. This cloud will pass quickly. The sunshine will be all the brighter after the shadow." His manner changed, and he spoke briskly. "Now, you get into the cabin. I'd only just got back from my line and kindled the fire when you came. The stove, I guess, is about white-hot by now. I'll attend to the dogs."Nell went obediently, full of happy reliance on the strength of this man, who was at once so courteous and so kind. She smiled over her distress of a few minutes before. Now, a thick column of smoke rose into the still air from the cabin-chimney.Inside the tiny room, Nell glanced about her with a curious sense of contentment. There was something homelike in the aspect of the place, despite its bareness. It was plainly, even roughly, furnished with a few tables and chairs besides the stove and bunk.The only decorations were the skins that hung on the log-walls. An oil-lamp was on a small table in a corner. On the large table in the opposite corner were some tins of meat, a saucepan, a few pieces of heavy crockery, and the like. Nell could not interpret the strange effect wrought upon her by these surroundings. She had felt it, in some measure, on the occasion of her first visit to the cabin. Now, however, its force seemed vastly stronger. She puzzled over it in vain. She tried to think it was the sense of relief that so affected her. But she knew that this was not the explanation. She had that inexplicable feeling of being at home. There was no visible cause. Whatever the reason, it lay beneath the surface of things. It was something in the atmosphere, some psychic quality.It seemed to Nell that the impression made upon her by this room in the cabin was intensified by the entrance of the dweller there, who greeted her with his friendly, gentle smile. Indeed, the kindliness of that smile and the look in the grave eyes touched the girlanew to thankfulness that this man would devote himself to her service in the time of need. She thought to herself that Mr. Maxwell must always have been a very kindly man to all, because he smiled so easily, notwithstanding the sadness of his face in repose. She could not know that, through two-thirds of the years measuring her span of life, Jim Maxwell had not smiled at all."First," Jim commanded, "throw off the outside things, and make yourself at home. You're going to stay awhile."Nell would have protested. But the man raised a monitory hand."It's no use your arguing about it," he said; and Nell recognized the masterful note in his voice, though he spoke as gently as before. She was rebellious, but she listened patiently while he went on to explain."You see, my dear, this is men's work. There might be a hitch somewhere. There might even be a bit of a mix-up. You'd only be in the way then, young lady. We may have our hands full, without you on them. Probably everything will be all right. Anyhow, we'll do our best, and to do it we mustn't be hampered by the presence of a non-combatant. We'll come straight here as fast as my dogs can bring us. That will give you a chance to rest up. You'll just have to wait here till we come. I don't say that that isn't the hardest part of the whole job. But that's woman's work—waiting."Jim had spoken thus frankly and at length, in the hope of avoiding useless discussion of a matter concerning which discussion could avail nothing, and he succeeded; for Nell yielded at once, very meekly."You're right, of course," she said, unhappily. "And you're right, too, about my having the hardest part in just sitting here with my hands folded, while I don't know what is happening to Jack.""Better unfold them," Jim suggested with a chuckle, "and rustle yourself some grub." He waved his hand toward the larger table. "The larder is quite at your service. As for me, I'll get ready and start at once. That'llget me to the edge of Kalmak soon after dark, so that I'll be all ready and waiting—just like you!—for whatever's to happen.""Yes," Nell said, and again there was the emphasis of anxiety in her voice, "you must start at once. You must be there, ready for Jack when he comes."Yet, in spite of this decision on the part of both that the man should start immediately, it was ordained by the Fates that there should be some delay; for this was an hour fraught with momentous things for the two thus cast together in the solitary cabin on the mountainside.It was as Jim Maxwell began his preparations for the journey that he chanced—or that he was guided—to stand close to the girl, facing her. His eyes were caught by a golden gleam, which seemed pulsing, as it moved in the rhythm of her breathing. His gaze rested there idly at first. And then, a moment later, his attention was drawn to a more careful scrutiny—just why, he did not know. Perhaps, as some maintain, a secret, tenuous vibrationemanated from the metal, and moved to response a sleeping memory of old associations in the man's soul. Whatever the cause, Jim Maxwell's eyes were seized and held fast by the locket lying on Nell's breast.Of a sudden, he started violently. He thrust his head forward, with a movement so abrupt, almost threatening in its seeming, that the girl, in her turn, was startled, and withdrew a step, half-fearful."I want to see that locket you are wearing." Jim Maxwell spoke in a tone that Nell had not heard before. It rang with a note of command not to be denied. She gazed affrighted at the change in his face. The kindliness was fled from it. It was imperious, ruthless, with a trace of underlying savagery. The young wife was dazed by the metamorphosis in the man on whom depended now her husband's rescue. And she was afraid, as well—no longer with a doubtful fear, but with a real terror before the expression in that heavily lined face, out of which the eyes stared at her with a cruel insistence."I want to see that locket you are wearing," he repeated harshly, and held out his right hand with the palm upward to receive it.Without a word, Nell took off the chain from her neck, and dropped it with the locket into the waiting palm. Then, she moved a little aside, shrinking from the new being with whom she found herself. But, after a few seconds, she forgot her own emotion, her alarm, her anxiety in behalf of her husband. For she was looking on the soul of a man, bared in agony. So great and so terrible was that revelation that, very quickly, she turned her gaze aside that she might not see.Jim Maxwell remained with his eyes fixed on the little locket, which bore for an ornament an initialNtraced in tiny pearls. He could not doubt. It was the locket that he had caused to be made for his daughter, for Nell—his little girl! Presently, he would open it, to see if the pictures of Lou and of himself were still within. But, in this first burst of emotion, he could only stand moveless there, racked by all the torments of memory.It was the tearing open of wounds, which, though they had never healed, had ceased to bleed. Now, they bled afresh, and it seemed to him that his soul was drowning in the blood.The fierceness of his first emotion passed. Suddenly, it was as if a cloud lifted from his brain, and he became aware of himself standing there in the cabin. A moment before—or was it ages?—he had been in heaven—and in hell. Now, he was back in the cabin in the wilderness. And he was glad to be there, for it was home....Again, his attention was caught by the gleam of the gold within his hands. He recognized the locket. But, at last, he was able to accept its presence with some degree of calm.Jim Maxwell turned to the girl, and addressed her gently enough, but still with that dominant tone which would brook no denial."Where did you get this locket?""I have had it always," she answered. None could doubt her truth as she spoke, with the clear eyes meeting her questioner's stern gaze squarely.The severity of the man's expression yielded a little."Who gave it to you?""I do not know."Jim frowned at this check."But you must know," he insisted.Nell shook her head resolutely."I do not remember who gave it to me," she repeated. "But I don't remember anything about myself when I was a very little girl. I've had the locket always, just as far back as I can remember.""How far back can you remember?" It was a perfunctory question."Papa and Mamma Ross, who saved me from the river, guessed that I was five or six years old. They decided on calling it six.""And you had the locket then?"Nell nodded assent again."And how old are you now?""I'm just eighteen."As his brain took in the figures, and made a mechanical calculation, Jim Maxwell's form, which had relaxed a little, grew tense again.His eyes searched the girl's face with a strange hunger in the intensity of the gaze. Twelve years! Twelve years ago, this girl here before him, who knew nothing as to her life prior to that time, had been saved from a river. And she had worn the locket that he had caused to be fashioned for his daughter, Nell. And twelve years ago his wife and his daughter, Nell, had vanished. The incredible crowded in his thoughts. Could mother and child, by an evil stroke of fate, have been caught somewhere in treacherous waters? Could one have perished, and the other have escaped? Could this girl, who stood there wondering at him—could she be that child, his little Nell, grown to this splendid womanhood? The thoughts electrified him. Was it possible that there was still left for him in life this supreme consolation—a creature whom he might love with all his heart, who would love him in return?But Jim Maxwell dared not believe. He was afraid of hope, lest it become despair to destroy him. Yet, the chief influences thatwrought upon him were his own desire that this miracle might be truth, and the new and singular yearning of his heart toward Nell.Presently, Jim Maxwell approached the girl where she was standing a little aloof. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. The girl started at his touch, but, for some reason she could not understand, she did not shrink from him now. He spoke very softly; and in his voice there was a music that penetrated to the girl's soul.p258tTHE GIRL STARTED AT HIS TOUCH BUT SHE DID NOT SHRINK FROM HIM NOW."You are my daughter—my little Nell!... God has given you back to me."The girl did not doubt. As with the man, her own yearning bore witness. She offered no resistance, but yielded with a reverent joy to the caress, as her father turned her about until she faced him, then stooped and kissed her on the forehead.CHAPTER XIXIn the tedious hours of waiting after parting from Nell, Jack Reeves was infinitely cheered by the consciousness that he would have for an ally in this crisis one such as Jim Maxwell. Often, there came into the prisoner's thought a memory of how he had last seen the trapper. He had turned for a look back as the sled dropped to the level of the valley. The solitary dweller in that wild place had been standing erect and motionless before the cabin—a splendid figure of a man, posed in unconscious majesty.p259tA SPLENDID FIGURE OF A MAN, POSED IN UNCONSCIOUS MAJESTY.There was, of course, the risk that Jim Maxwell might be away from the cabin and so not available to render assistance. That risk, however, could not be avoided, since there was no one else to whom appeal might be made. But Jack was able to hold an optimistic frame of mind. Somehow the effectmade upon him by the stranger whom he and Nell had rescued from death was such that he felt a certain confidence as to the outcome of his plan, merely because it depended vitally on the coöperation of Jim Maxwell. Jack was sure that he could have secured this assistance, even had there been no sense of obligation to bind the stranger to his service. With Jim Maxwell's obvious and profound gratitude for having been rescued from death, there could be no doubt concerning his response to the prisoner's call for help.Though he was busy with thoughts concerning his projected flight, Jack found the day dragging endlessly. It seemed an eternity before at last the shadows lengthened into night. Then, indeed, when patience was least needed, it became most difficult. Now that the time was so near at hand, the minutes crawled with a sluggishness that was exasperating. It seemed to Jack that the sheriff purposed to sit in the adjoining room throughout the night. It was only when he looked at his watch that the fretting captive learned howanxiety deceived him, for it yet lacked a half-hour of the official's usual retiring time.Finally, since all things have an end, the sheriff stood up, and, after an amiable but formal good-night, went out into the living-quarters of the house. Followed an hour that was still more laggard than any of those that had preceded it in this most laggard day. Jack had decided that there could be no need of waiting until late at night before making his attempt. There were only two classes among the citizens of the town. One went to bed early; the other went very late—if at all. The prisoner hoped that the first class would sleep too soundly to have any knowledge of his undertaking until too late to thwart it; that the second class would be too drunk for serious interference.When he deemed it time to begin his preparations for escape, Jack gathered the most inflammable parts of the litter on the floor. There was more than sufficient for his purpose, since the sheriff, however great his other official virtues, was by no manner of means atidy person. This collection of fragments of paper and wood was stacked against the partition that separated the cell from the outer room, midway on one side of the door. The prisoner was at pains to use only paper and splinters, which would burn with little smoke. He had chosen the only possible point of attack for his purpose. The other three walls of the cell were of heavy timbers, which could have been set on fire only with difficulty, and, once well alight, would have assuredly roasted to death any one in the place, since there could have been no possibility of breaking through them.The situation was different as to the wall in which the door was set. This was made of boards, instead of logs. They were too heavy to be broken through by blows from the heavy chair, which was the only tool available to the prisoner. Jack had conceived the possibility of setting fire to some of the lower boards, and thus weakening them to a point where they would yield to his attack. So, now,when he had placed his kindling in position, he made ready with the match.Never was a match struck more carefully. It was the only one, and on its aid at the outset the whole attempt of escape rested. Jack breathed a prayer of thanksgiving as the match sputtered and flared to a steady flame. Next moment paper and sticks were burning briskly. The fire mounted, lapping gently at the boards of the wall.Jack, kneeling closely, watched earnestly. There was nothing more for him to do now; he had only to wait for his servant, the fire, to prepare the way. He shuddered a little at the thought that the servant might become the master—that in the end he might perish miserably in a fire-trap of his own devising.He stood up, and, by an effort of will, thrust the thought from him, lest fear drain him of the energy needed for the flight to come. He forced himself to think of anything else, rather than of a failure so horrible—of Nell, who would be waiting for him in a mood ofhope and despair intermingled; of Jim Maxwell, who would be ready in this time of need. He pictured the trapper with his dogs, waiting patiently on the snow where the spruce shadows fell.p269tTHE TRAPPER, WITH HIS DOGS, WAITING PATIENTLY ON THE SNOW.The flame rose higher and higher. The dry boards in the partition were smoking. Little lines of sparks ran over the rough surface, then died. The smoke from the boards grew heavier. The acrid odor filled the cell. Jack coughed and dropped again to his knees, in order to avoid the worst of the fumes. The heat increased, but it was not sufficient to cause any particular discomfort. Jack had vastly more fear that the increasing volume of smoke might overcome him before he should have opportunity for carrying out his project. Presently, however, he was greatly heartened by observing that there was draft which carried the greater part of the smoke out of the cell through the grating in the door. As he looked, he saw that the other room was filled already with dense clouds of smoke. He took further comfort from the fact thatthe fumes were not apparently escaping into the main body of the house, where they might have given the alarm.In the cell, the lower boards of the partition had burst into flame. The heat from them was now so great that Jack crawled away from it into the farthest corner. The tiny room was like an oven, and to add to the discomfort of it and the deadly danger, the smoke thickened visibly, notwithstanding the current passing out through the door.Jack realized, with a thrill of horror, that here was a duel—a duel to the death. It was a duel between him and those fiercely darting flames. Rather, it was a duel between him and those blazing boards in the partition—a duel of endurance between him and them. Which would be the first to yield? If the boards should hold out the longer, then he—! Jack shuddered once again, with a wry smile over the irony of fate. Here, in this rigorous climate, men went often hand-in-hand with a Death whose scythe was edged with ice. Jack had contemplated the possibility of beingsome time struck down by the numbing cold. It had never occurred to him that in this Arctic land he might die in a hell of his own stoking.The stifling prisoner dared hope that at last the blaze had weakened the boards sufficiently for his purpose. Whether or no, his suffering drove him to action. The heat was intolerable now. Sweat poured from him. The pungent smoke blinded him, and bit cruelly at throat and lungs. Still without rising to his feet, Jack laid hold of the chair, which was just beside him, and hobbled clumsily toward the partition, pushing the chair before him.Even this comparatively slight exertion caused the perspiration to gush in new abundance, and here, closer to the flame, the temperature was well-nigh unbearable. Jack's head swam. He felt his senses failing. It was only by a tremendous effort that he regained control of himself. He was aware of his mortal peril. Any least weakening or faltering now would mean his destruction. It was, indeed, a duel to the death—a duel of endurance between him and a foe that knew no mercy.Jack realized, as well, that there could be no delay in the issue. He must act at once, if he were to act at all. A minute later would be forever too late. His brain was reeling. His agonized flesh could not longer withstand the strain. He felt his energies flow out of him like water.... What he would do must be done instantly—or not at all.Jack drew a long breath, sprang up, swung the chair, and brought it crashing against the boards of the partition where the flames burned most furiously. The wall did not break, though it seemed to yield a little under the blow. But, before he could try another assault, dizziness sent him staggering away from the unbearable heat and smoke of that spot. He dropped to the floor, where he lay stretched at full length, panting in choking breaths. For a few seconds he was in the grip of despair. He felt himself impotent, doomed to shameful death in this furnace-hole.Nevertheless, the spirit of the young man, albeit fainting, was not dead. It aroused presently. And it quickened the flesh. Once again Jack acted. His brain was dulled. He was hardly conscious of thought. The whole strength of his being was concentrated in his will to make a last, supreme effort. Again, after a deep breath, he leaped to his feet, seized the chair and hurled it against the center of the flaming mass with every atom of his strength.In the interval since his first attempt, the fire that threatened him with death had, notwithstanding, been working in his behalf, weakening still more the boards, his enemies in this duel of endurance. The heavy chair burst through the blazing barrier and fell noisily in the other room.Joy surged in the prisoner. Under the stimulus of it, he forgot pain and feebleness. He rushed at the flaming wall and kicked clear a larger opening. Then he plunged through the flames.Jack fell headlong on the floor of the sheriff'soffice. By instinct, he remained prostrate, with his face against the floor, else he must have strangled. But instinct urged him onward. He crept toward the window, which, fortunately, was on the side of the room where he had fallen. His eyes were shut fast now, for the smoke had blinded him. But his groping hand, upraised, found the window-sash. Once more Jack held his scant breath as he got to his feet. He drove his elbows through the panes. The zero air enwrapped him. The touch of it was bliss. It brought blessed life to the seared lungs. Jack took one great breath of it. Then he put a foot to the window-ledge, drew himself up and went through, amid the noise of rending glass and wood. Without an instant of pause, or a single glance backward, he was off, plowing his way through the heaped-up snow, which bordered the clear space beyond the buildings. In another minute he was on the solid crust. Thus he ran on in a line parallel with the one street of the village, but behind the buildings that straggled there. He passedthe last of these, and saw before him the white reaches of the valley, without sign of life anywhere, beckoning him on to freedom. His stride quickened and he went forward jubilantly.
p221t
THE FORMALITIES FULLY SATISFIED, THE SHERIFF ORDERED THE CORPSE REMOVED.
"It's a clew," he explained, with obvious admiration for his own sagacity, as he wiped the blackened blood from the blade upon the blanket.
Dan McGrew had followed the four men who, at the sheriff's direction, carried the body into the hotel. He was known here, as through most of the region round about, where he was regarded as an honest gambler—for his methods had improved in the twelve years since his discomfiture by Fingie Whalen.
To be here at this time, Dangerous Dan McGrew had employed the resources of both mind and body. His reasoning had convinced him that Kalmak would be Jack's destination in the trip. He had been obliged to risk the correctness of this conclusion in order that he might be free to start for the village at once, after completing his night-visit to the young man's camp. Since he must travel on foot, and slowly because of increasing fatigue, he had need of all the time he could gain for the journey, in order to reach the scene first. He had succeeded. Even, he had had timefor an hour's sleep, which was craved by every atom in his body after a day and two nights of almost constant exertion.
So, now, Dan McGrew was on the spot, alert and arrogant with evil purpose. He stepped close to the sheriff, and spoke so that the others could not overhear. He knew the harmless vanity of the official, and meant to play upon it for his own ends, by letting the other take credit on himself for great shrewdness.
"You think that youngster's story is a bit fishy, I see!" Dan remarked; and there was deep admiration in his voice.
The sheriff, who had thought nothing of the sort, immediately assumed an air of suspicion, and nodded assent.
"Fishy—very!" he agreed.
"Of course," Dan continued deprecatingly, as if even to question this were an impertinence on his part, "you'll search that young man's pack?"
The sheriff nodded glumly.
"It's my sworn duty to do jest that."
Dan sauntered away, well content. He went out of the hotel, and stood unobtrusively among the other idlers, watching while Jack and Nell, restored to the best of spirits by the completion of their unpleasant duty, were now laughing and chatting together as they busied themselves about the sled.
Presently appeared the sheriff. He approached the sled, and spoke with a harshness he had not hitherto displayed.
"Young feller, I'll jest take a look through your pack."
Jack and Nell glanced up in amazement at the tone no less than at the words.
"But what—what the devil do you mean?" Jack demanded, wrathfully.
"Never you mind what I mean, young feller," was the offended retort. The sheriff threw back the lapel of the heavy outer coat he wore, and showed a silver shield. "There's my authority," he sternly announced. "I'll jest take a squint through your belongin's."
Jack and Nell protested, but their protests were in vain. The sheriff in explanationvouchsafed only a single word, most contemptuously uttered:
"Fishy!"
In the end, the young pair stood by in mute indignation, while the official search was prosecuted.... They had one consolation in the presence of this outrage: The search would prove its own absurdity.
The issue came on them like a thunderbolt. From somewhere in the pack, the sheriff's groping fingers drew forth an object, which he held up that all might see. It was undoubtedly the bone handle of a large knife. Without a word, the sheriff reached into a pocket of his coat, and brought forth the blade which had been in the dead man's breast. Still without a word, while all looked on in breathless tension, he put blade and haft together. They fitted perfectly.
The sheriff's mouth, under the drooping mustache, twisted in a triumphant grin. An amazed consternation held Jack and Nell silent for the moment in the face of this damning evidence against them. The sheriffmoved forward a step, and laid his hand on Jack's shoulder.
"Young feller," he said heavily, "I arrest you in the name of the law, for the murder of Sam Ward, deceased. And don't say anythin'," he added, in paraphrase of the legal formula, "for what you say will be used agin ye."
The catastrophe that had thus put an end to the honeymoon, drove the unfortunate husband and wife almost to despair. The thing was monstrous, incredible. Nevertheless, it had occurred. Jack raged against the unjust accusation which Dan McGrew had caused to be laid against him; but neither his wrath nor his entreaties were powerful enough to create even a doubt on the part of the public of Kalmak as to his guilt. The evidence against him was, in fact, incontrovertible. His case was made the worse, also, by the absence of any one who could vouch for his character. Given time, he could easily enough summon witnesses in his behalf, though even then the issue might be uncertain. He had no plausible explanation to offer concerning the presence of the knife-handle among his effects. He could only deny allknowledge of how it came there. And such denial was utterly valueless, as Jack himself realized with utter discouragement.
As for Nell, there was only a single thing to mitigate her misery, and of this she was hardly conscious. It was that she herself was not subjected to the indignity of arrest. In this matter, the chivalry of the community worked in her behalf. These men of the Northland were not of a sort to war against women. They left such warfare to a more complex state of civilization.
But, in truth, no arrest was needed for the unhappy bride. Nothing could have tempted her to leave the place where her husband was in peril. Indeed, she was like a thorn in the side of the sheriff's ideas concerning official strictness and decorum—and rose as well as thorn; for the winsome loveliness of this suffering girl disturbed him greatly, so that he was fain to grant her privileges which ill accorded with his conception of official etiquette. It was owing to this laxness under Nell's persuasion that she was permitted to interviewher husband, though separated from him by the heavy grating in the cell-door, and though fretted by the presence of the sheriff himself, who sat within ear-shot, and forbade secret communication.... Those interviews harrowed the souls of the lovers, for, though each strove to cheer the other, neither could understand how this calamity had come to pass. Nell occupied the intervals between visits to her husband in frantic efforts to devise some means of proving Jack's innocence, or in pitiable weeping, shut within her squalid hotel-room.
p230t
NELL WAS PERMITTED TO INTERVIEW HER HUSBAND.
It was in the forenoon of the day following his arrest that the prisoner had his first glimmer of hope. It came to him while he was surveying for the thousandth time the roughly-hewn timbers that made the walls of his cell. He had long ago admitted the uselessness of trying to break out, inasmuch as he had not even a penknife with which to work. Yet, now, as his glance roved the tiny room, his eyes lighted with hope.
Forthwith, Jack began plotting escape. He understood that his situation was most desperate. The sheriff, who from pride in his office had added the cell to his log-house at his own expense, was fond of sitting on guard in the adjoining room; not so much for the sake of precaution against the prisoner's escape, as for pleasure in receiving visitors, in the full majesty of his office. And Jack had heard some of the low-spoken remarks of the visitors among themselves. He knew that these men of primitive emotions looked upon him as a murderer, and were disposed to end the affair in a lynching-bee. Only the sheriff interposed between him and such a fate, and the man was by no means strong enough to stand against a mob. Therefore, Jack was convinced that the only possibility of safety lay in flight. And that flight must be made at once, or it would be too late.
Little by little, the details of a plan were evolved. He went over the matter with every care, knowing well that he risked his life on the accuracy of each detail in his device. Some ideas he rejected; others, after muchtesting and readjustment, were approved. In the end, he became confident that his method might win success—confident that it would.
His preparations thus complete up to the point of action, the prisoner did not delay the action itself. For that matter, the opportunity he desired at the outset was offered to him almost immediately after he had decided upon his course.
The sheriff, who was a kindly soul, apart from the sternness compelled by his ideas of high office, repeated a favor he had already shown the prisoner, by coming to the grating, and thrusting forward a cigar.
"Smoke up, young feller," he said.
Jack took the cigar with due expressions of gratitude, and he was at pains to conceal the new hopeful eagerness that filled him.
"And here's the match, young feller," the sheriff continued, as he held it forth. It was one of the regulations formulated by himself that the inmates of the jail should not be allowed possession of matches.
Of that regulation, Jack was already aware,and to secure its evasion, he now acted. As the sheriff turned away, in pursuance of his principle of not encouraging familiarity on the part of a prisoner, Jack tossed the match to the floor, where it lay invisible in the light which shone in from the other room. Then he addressed the sheriff, with becoming humility.
"I'm sorry, Sheriff, but the match went out."
Dan McGrew, in the sheriff's place, would have demanded the return of that match. Instead, the official turned back promptly, and gave another, with which the prisoner succeeded in lighting his cigar. The sheriff, seated at his table, could not see the captive, who stooped and picked up from the floor the first match, and put it away in his pocket with extraordinary care.
Thereafter, still careful to escape observation by the sheriff, Jack got out a stub of pencil which he had been allowed to retain. He secured a small fragment of paper from the untidy litter on the floor of the cell. Then, he hastily scribbled a brief note. This wasrolled up into a tiny cylinder with the writing on the inner side. By liberal moistening with his tongue he managed to make the roll retain its shape. Having accomplished all he could for the time being, the prisoner, with the cylinder in his pocket, awaited the coming of Nell.
The wife's advent was not long delayed. Within the hour, the girl appeared before the sheriff, softly appealing in voice, more softly appealing in the gaze of her misty eyes. The official strove to frown, but only succeeded in smirking shamefacedly.
"I suppose it can't do any harm to let you chin a little," he said grudgingly. "But remember now," he added, shaking a warning finger at the visitor, "no whispering, an' keep your hands in plain sight all the time. An' I'll have my eyes on you, you bet!"
With a murmur of thanks, Nell went forward to the grating, where she stood with her hands duly exposed against the metal bars. Husband and wife exchanged greetings as best they could, thus forced to speak aloud so that the sheriff could hear every word. Yet,without anything said to warrant it, Nell knew instantly that her husband's mood had changed. There was a light in his eyes, a smile on his lips. And, too, he nodded almost imperceptibly, very mysteriously. Nell felt her own spirits rise in response. They spoke of sending to Malamute for a lawyer. They spoke of securing proof against the actual murderer—at which the sheriff smiled.
But the sheriff, though he listened so intently, did not watch with equal closeness. He glanced over some of the papers lying before him.
It was Jack who watched carefully, for much was now at stake. As he saw the sheriff's gaze averted, he parted his lips, and with his tongue pushed forward the tiny cylinder of paper, which on the instant of Nell's arrival, he had placed in his mouth.
The wife perceived the protruding roll in astonishment. Jack moved his head forward, puckering his lips as for a kiss. Nell understood. She turned instinctively. The sheriff's eyes were still on his papers. At once,then, the girl put her own lips to the opening in the grating, where Jack's waited. The mouths of the two met in a kiss that lingered. The sheriff looked up, and saw the kiss. He noted that the hands of the two were duly exposed, as required by the regulation in such case made and provided.
p231t
THE MOUTHS OF THE TWO MET IN A KISS THAT LINGERED.
Nell took her departure forthwith. Her murmur of thanks to the sheriff for his kindness was a trifle indistinct. That excellent officer observed the fact. Also, he was inclined to believe that the unfortunate young woman appeared somewhat cheered by her visit to the murderer—though what there could be cheering in such a situation, the sheriff could not guess.
In the solitude of her bleak chamber, Nell hastened to take from her mouth the cylinder of paper that Jack had given her. Moist as it was, when unrolled it lay flat, and the writing on the inner side was decipherable without difficulty.
The note lacked address or signature, since neither was needed. But the curt words filled Nell with rapture:
Have found way to escape. Go to Maxwell, ask him for help. Have him somewhere near the village on his side by eleven o'clock to-night.
Have found way to escape. Go to Maxwell, ask him for help. Have him somewhere near the village on his side by eleven o'clock to-night.
With the reading, Nell took new heart of hope. She could not guess the means that her husband had devised for his escape from the jail, but the confident tone in which he had written to her gave promise of success.Her own part in the plan was simple enough. It only required that she act promptly in its execution. It occurred to her that Mr. Maxwell might be absent from the cabin, following the line of his traps. The thought of possible delay in the performance of her mission struck a chill to the eager wife's heart. At once, then, she was in a fever of impatience to be off and away.
Nell made her preparations swiftly. At her order, the dogs were harnessed to the sled, and were ready at the door of the hotel, as she issued forth. The news that the murderer's bride was about to start out, spread through the village like wild-fire. The sheriff himself appeared on the scene, as Nell was at the point of departure. He shook his head dolefully; but, to the girl's immense relief, he did not offer to detain her.
p248t
THE DOGS WERE READY—AT THE DOOR OF THE HOTEL—AS SHE ISSUED FORTH.
"I dunno," he remarked doubtfully, "what you git by goin', an' I dunno neither what you'd git by stayin', fer the matter o' that.
"Anyhow, a wife can't testify agin her husband,so I hain't got any call to hang on to ye."
That was his valedictory.
Nell wasted neither words nor smiles on the assembly. She had no kindly feeling toward these men, who had dared accuse her husband of crime. Her sole response to the sheriff's statement was a crack of the whip and a lively cry to the dogs, which leaped forward with a speed and surety of movement in the splendidly muscled bodies that made the watchers exclaim admiringly.
There was now no leisurely progress, such as had been that with which she and her husband had traversed the miles together, before death brought tragedy to their bridal-journey. Nell, in two years of her living in the North, had learned the management of these animals, on which transportation over the snowy expanses of the Arctic so depends. She knew well how to get from her team every ounce of speed, and she did not spare them in the least. The crust still held, so that the going was ofthe best. Mechanically, with the instinct that develops quickly in those who live among the wilds, Nell had noted each salient detail of the route followed by her and Jack. So, now, she was sure of her course, and drove the dogs at full speed on and on, following the levels of interwoven valleys with never a hint of hesitation.
It was late afternoon when, at last, Nell found herself passing along the valley where they had lingered behind the line of the stampede. Hope mounted higher here; for only a few miles still separated her from the man whose aid she sought.
In turn, despair smote her at thought of the possibility that this Mr. Maxwell might be absent—might even not return that night. She had a dreadful vision of Jack, escaped from his prison, yet helpless, without dogs or supplies, doomed to perish in the cold. She resolved that, should other help be wanting, she herself would return alone to meet him. She took a little encouragement from this determination, until it occurred to her that therewere limits to the endurance of the dogs. Then, again, desolation fell on her. But, at least, they would be together!... Thus, her thoughts rioted in the stress of anxiety.
Anxiety became an anguished suspense, when, finally, she saw the tiny bulk of the cabin, showing darkly against the white of the valley-slope. As the dogs raced nearer, she stared with fierce eagerness to catch some sign of life. She was in terror when she made sure that no smoke issued from the chimney. One does not sit at home fireless in the Far North. A great fear was on her as she halted the dogs before the cabin-door, and none came forth to greet her.
Nell's misery, like that of most persons in this world of mistaken ideas, was of her own making. Hardly had she clambered down stiffly from the sled, when the cabin-door swung open, and Jim Maxwell stepped out. At sight of his visitor, whom he recognized in the first glance, he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment, and advanced toward her quickly. His thought on seeing her alonethus before his cabin was that some serious accident must have befallen her husband. He was deeply concerned over the girl's plight, and sympathy showed in his face with a sincerity of feeling that touched the girl deeply—so deeply, indeed, that for a few seconds after he was come to her, she could only stand wordless, with her hands in his firm clasp, her eyes glowing with the gratitude and the relief with which his presence inspired her.
Jim Maxwell's voice was softer than it had been in more than a decade of years.
"Why, child, what's the matter?" he asked soothingly. "Whatever it is, we'll make it come out all right. Tell me about it."
Nell choked down her emotion, and presently regained a fair degree of self-control.
"Oh, I'm so glad—so glad you're here, Mr. Maxwell!" Her voice throbbed with feeling. It stirred to a new life a joy long dead in the man's bosom—joy in the realization that some one wanted him. It had been twelve years since any one had wanted him.
"Tell me," he repeated. His tone was evengentler than before. The warmth of it cheered the girl like a draft of rich wine.
Nell fumbled at her bosom for a moment, and drew forth the note that Jack had written. She held it out, and Jim Maxwell took it from her, and read it through with growing astonishment.
p249t
JIM MAXWELL TOOK THE NOTE FROM HER AND READ IT THROUGH WITH GROWING ASTONISHMENT.
After he had scanned it for a second time, he looked up at the expectant girl, with a puzzled, though no less kindly, glance.
"But what does it all mean?" he asked. "I suppose the note is from your husband?"
"Yes," assented Nell hurriedly. "He's going to escape."
Jim patted the girl's hand reassuringly.
"Now, just take it easy," he counseled. "You must remember that I don't know a thing about it. So, you're going to tell me everything that's happened, and what your husband is going to escape from."
The calmness of the speaker's voice quieted Nell's excitement, and she proceeded to relate without confusion an outline of what had occurred.
"Poor little girl!" her listener said tenderly, when the narrative was concluded. "Well, he did right to send word to me. I owe you two more than I can pay. And don't you worry, my dear. This cloud will pass quickly. The sunshine will be all the brighter after the shadow." His manner changed, and he spoke briskly. "Now, you get into the cabin. I'd only just got back from my line and kindled the fire when you came. The stove, I guess, is about white-hot by now. I'll attend to the dogs."
Nell went obediently, full of happy reliance on the strength of this man, who was at once so courteous and so kind. She smiled over her distress of a few minutes before. Now, a thick column of smoke rose into the still air from the cabin-chimney.
Inside the tiny room, Nell glanced about her with a curious sense of contentment. There was something homelike in the aspect of the place, despite its bareness. It was plainly, even roughly, furnished with a few tables and chairs besides the stove and bunk.The only decorations were the skins that hung on the log-walls. An oil-lamp was on a small table in a corner. On the large table in the opposite corner were some tins of meat, a saucepan, a few pieces of heavy crockery, and the like. Nell could not interpret the strange effect wrought upon her by these surroundings. She had felt it, in some measure, on the occasion of her first visit to the cabin. Now, however, its force seemed vastly stronger. She puzzled over it in vain. She tried to think it was the sense of relief that so affected her. But she knew that this was not the explanation. She had that inexplicable feeling of being at home. There was no visible cause. Whatever the reason, it lay beneath the surface of things. It was something in the atmosphere, some psychic quality.
It seemed to Nell that the impression made upon her by this room in the cabin was intensified by the entrance of the dweller there, who greeted her with his friendly, gentle smile. Indeed, the kindliness of that smile and the look in the grave eyes touched the girlanew to thankfulness that this man would devote himself to her service in the time of need. She thought to herself that Mr. Maxwell must always have been a very kindly man to all, because he smiled so easily, notwithstanding the sadness of his face in repose. She could not know that, through two-thirds of the years measuring her span of life, Jim Maxwell had not smiled at all.
"First," Jim commanded, "throw off the outside things, and make yourself at home. You're going to stay awhile."
Nell would have protested. But the man raised a monitory hand.
"It's no use your arguing about it," he said; and Nell recognized the masterful note in his voice, though he spoke as gently as before. She was rebellious, but she listened patiently while he went on to explain.
"You see, my dear, this is men's work. There might be a hitch somewhere. There might even be a bit of a mix-up. You'd only be in the way then, young lady. We may have our hands full, without you on them. Probably everything will be all right. Anyhow, we'll do our best, and to do it we mustn't be hampered by the presence of a non-combatant. We'll come straight here as fast as my dogs can bring us. That will give you a chance to rest up. You'll just have to wait here till we come. I don't say that that isn't the hardest part of the whole job. But that's woman's work—waiting."
Jim had spoken thus frankly and at length, in the hope of avoiding useless discussion of a matter concerning which discussion could avail nothing, and he succeeded; for Nell yielded at once, very meekly.
"You're right, of course," she said, unhappily. "And you're right, too, about my having the hardest part in just sitting here with my hands folded, while I don't know what is happening to Jack."
"Better unfold them," Jim suggested with a chuckle, "and rustle yourself some grub." He waved his hand toward the larger table. "The larder is quite at your service. As for me, I'll get ready and start at once. That'llget me to the edge of Kalmak soon after dark, so that I'll be all ready and waiting—just like you!—for whatever's to happen."
"Yes," Nell said, and again there was the emphasis of anxiety in her voice, "you must start at once. You must be there, ready for Jack when he comes."
Yet, in spite of this decision on the part of both that the man should start immediately, it was ordained by the Fates that there should be some delay; for this was an hour fraught with momentous things for the two thus cast together in the solitary cabin on the mountainside.
It was as Jim Maxwell began his preparations for the journey that he chanced—or that he was guided—to stand close to the girl, facing her. His eyes were caught by a golden gleam, which seemed pulsing, as it moved in the rhythm of her breathing. His gaze rested there idly at first. And then, a moment later, his attention was drawn to a more careful scrutiny—just why, he did not know. Perhaps, as some maintain, a secret, tenuous vibrationemanated from the metal, and moved to response a sleeping memory of old associations in the man's soul. Whatever the cause, Jim Maxwell's eyes were seized and held fast by the locket lying on Nell's breast.
Of a sudden, he started violently. He thrust his head forward, with a movement so abrupt, almost threatening in its seeming, that the girl, in her turn, was startled, and withdrew a step, half-fearful.
"I want to see that locket you are wearing." Jim Maxwell spoke in a tone that Nell had not heard before. It rang with a note of command not to be denied. She gazed affrighted at the change in his face. The kindliness was fled from it. It was imperious, ruthless, with a trace of underlying savagery. The young wife was dazed by the metamorphosis in the man on whom depended now her husband's rescue. And she was afraid, as well—no longer with a doubtful fear, but with a real terror before the expression in that heavily lined face, out of which the eyes stared at her with a cruel insistence.
"I want to see that locket you are wearing," he repeated harshly, and held out his right hand with the palm upward to receive it.
Without a word, Nell took off the chain from her neck, and dropped it with the locket into the waiting palm. Then, she moved a little aside, shrinking from the new being with whom she found herself. But, after a few seconds, she forgot her own emotion, her alarm, her anxiety in behalf of her husband. For she was looking on the soul of a man, bared in agony. So great and so terrible was that revelation that, very quickly, she turned her gaze aside that she might not see.
Jim Maxwell remained with his eyes fixed on the little locket, which bore for an ornament an initialNtraced in tiny pearls. He could not doubt. It was the locket that he had caused to be made for his daughter, for Nell—his little girl! Presently, he would open it, to see if the pictures of Lou and of himself were still within. But, in this first burst of emotion, he could only stand moveless there, racked by all the torments of memory.It was the tearing open of wounds, which, though they had never healed, had ceased to bleed. Now, they bled afresh, and it seemed to him that his soul was drowning in the blood.
The fierceness of his first emotion passed. Suddenly, it was as if a cloud lifted from his brain, and he became aware of himself standing there in the cabin. A moment before—or was it ages?—he had been in heaven—and in hell. Now, he was back in the cabin in the wilderness. And he was glad to be there, for it was home....
Again, his attention was caught by the gleam of the gold within his hands. He recognized the locket. But, at last, he was able to accept its presence with some degree of calm.
Jim Maxwell turned to the girl, and addressed her gently enough, but still with that dominant tone which would brook no denial.
"Where did you get this locket?"
"I have had it always," she answered. None could doubt her truth as she spoke, with the clear eyes meeting her questioner's stern gaze squarely.
The severity of the man's expression yielded a little.
"Who gave it to you?"
"I do not know."
Jim frowned at this check.
"But you must know," he insisted.
Nell shook her head resolutely.
"I do not remember who gave it to me," she repeated. "But I don't remember anything about myself when I was a very little girl. I've had the locket always, just as far back as I can remember."
"How far back can you remember?" It was a perfunctory question.
"Papa and Mamma Ross, who saved me from the river, guessed that I was five or six years old. They decided on calling it six."
"And you had the locket then?"
Nell nodded assent again.
"And how old are you now?"
"I'm just eighteen."
As his brain took in the figures, and made a mechanical calculation, Jim Maxwell's form, which had relaxed a little, grew tense again.His eyes searched the girl's face with a strange hunger in the intensity of the gaze. Twelve years! Twelve years ago, this girl here before him, who knew nothing as to her life prior to that time, had been saved from a river. And she had worn the locket that he had caused to be fashioned for his daughter, Nell. And twelve years ago his wife and his daughter, Nell, had vanished. The incredible crowded in his thoughts. Could mother and child, by an evil stroke of fate, have been caught somewhere in treacherous waters? Could one have perished, and the other have escaped? Could this girl, who stood there wondering at him—could she be that child, his little Nell, grown to this splendid womanhood? The thoughts electrified him. Was it possible that there was still left for him in life this supreme consolation—a creature whom he might love with all his heart, who would love him in return?
But Jim Maxwell dared not believe. He was afraid of hope, lest it become despair to destroy him. Yet, the chief influences thatwrought upon him were his own desire that this miracle might be truth, and the new and singular yearning of his heart toward Nell.
Presently, Jim Maxwell approached the girl where she was standing a little aloof. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. The girl started at his touch, but, for some reason she could not understand, she did not shrink from him now. He spoke very softly; and in his voice there was a music that penetrated to the girl's soul.
p258t
THE GIRL STARTED AT HIS TOUCH BUT SHE DID NOT SHRINK FROM HIM NOW.
"You are my daughter—my little Nell!... God has given you back to me."
The girl did not doubt. As with the man, her own yearning bore witness. She offered no resistance, but yielded with a reverent joy to the caress, as her father turned her about until she faced him, then stooped and kissed her on the forehead.
In the tedious hours of waiting after parting from Nell, Jack Reeves was infinitely cheered by the consciousness that he would have for an ally in this crisis one such as Jim Maxwell. Often, there came into the prisoner's thought a memory of how he had last seen the trapper. He had turned for a look back as the sled dropped to the level of the valley. The solitary dweller in that wild place had been standing erect and motionless before the cabin—a splendid figure of a man, posed in unconscious majesty.
p259t
A SPLENDID FIGURE OF A MAN, POSED IN UNCONSCIOUS MAJESTY.
There was, of course, the risk that Jim Maxwell might be away from the cabin and so not available to render assistance. That risk, however, could not be avoided, since there was no one else to whom appeal might be made. But Jack was able to hold an optimistic frame of mind. Somehow the effectmade upon him by the stranger whom he and Nell had rescued from death was such that he felt a certain confidence as to the outcome of his plan, merely because it depended vitally on the coöperation of Jim Maxwell. Jack was sure that he could have secured this assistance, even had there been no sense of obligation to bind the stranger to his service. With Jim Maxwell's obvious and profound gratitude for having been rescued from death, there could be no doubt concerning his response to the prisoner's call for help.
Though he was busy with thoughts concerning his projected flight, Jack found the day dragging endlessly. It seemed an eternity before at last the shadows lengthened into night. Then, indeed, when patience was least needed, it became most difficult. Now that the time was so near at hand, the minutes crawled with a sluggishness that was exasperating. It seemed to Jack that the sheriff purposed to sit in the adjoining room throughout the night. It was only when he looked at his watch that the fretting captive learned howanxiety deceived him, for it yet lacked a half-hour of the official's usual retiring time.
Finally, since all things have an end, the sheriff stood up, and, after an amiable but formal good-night, went out into the living-quarters of the house. Followed an hour that was still more laggard than any of those that had preceded it in this most laggard day. Jack had decided that there could be no need of waiting until late at night before making his attempt. There were only two classes among the citizens of the town. One went to bed early; the other went very late—if at all. The prisoner hoped that the first class would sleep too soundly to have any knowledge of his undertaking until too late to thwart it; that the second class would be too drunk for serious interference.
When he deemed it time to begin his preparations for escape, Jack gathered the most inflammable parts of the litter on the floor. There was more than sufficient for his purpose, since the sheriff, however great his other official virtues, was by no manner of means atidy person. This collection of fragments of paper and wood was stacked against the partition that separated the cell from the outer room, midway on one side of the door. The prisoner was at pains to use only paper and splinters, which would burn with little smoke. He had chosen the only possible point of attack for his purpose. The other three walls of the cell were of heavy timbers, which could have been set on fire only with difficulty, and, once well alight, would have assuredly roasted to death any one in the place, since there could have been no possibility of breaking through them.
The situation was different as to the wall in which the door was set. This was made of boards, instead of logs. They were too heavy to be broken through by blows from the heavy chair, which was the only tool available to the prisoner. Jack had conceived the possibility of setting fire to some of the lower boards, and thus weakening them to a point where they would yield to his attack. So, now,when he had placed his kindling in position, he made ready with the match.
Never was a match struck more carefully. It was the only one, and on its aid at the outset the whole attempt of escape rested. Jack breathed a prayer of thanksgiving as the match sputtered and flared to a steady flame. Next moment paper and sticks were burning briskly. The fire mounted, lapping gently at the boards of the wall.
Jack, kneeling closely, watched earnestly. There was nothing more for him to do now; he had only to wait for his servant, the fire, to prepare the way. He shuddered a little at the thought that the servant might become the master—that in the end he might perish miserably in a fire-trap of his own devising.
He stood up, and, by an effort of will, thrust the thought from him, lest fear drain him of the energy needed for the flight to come. He forced himself to think of anything else, rather than of a failure so horrible—of Nell, who would be waiting for him in a mood ofhope and despair intermingled; of Jim Maxwell, who would be ready in this time of need. He pictured the trapper with his dogs, waiting patiently on the snow where the spruce shadows fell.
p269t
THE TRAPPER, WITH HIS DOGS, WAITING PATIENTLY ON THE SNOW.
The flame rose higher and higher. The dry boards in the partition were smoking. Little lines of sparks ran over the rough surface, then died. The smoke from the boards grew heavier. The acrid odor filled the cell. Jack coughed and dropped again to his knees, in order to avoid the worst of the fumes. The heat increased, but it was not sufficient to cause any particular discomfort. Jack had vastly more fear that the increasing volume of smoke might overcome him before he should have opportunity for carrying out his project. Presently, however, he was greatly heartened by observing that there was draft which carried the greater part of the smoke out of the cell through the grating in the door. As he looked, he saw that the other room was filled already with dense clouds of smoke. He took further comfort from the fact thatthe fumes were not apparently escaping into the main body of the house, where they might have given the alarm.
In the cell, the lower boards of the partition had burst into flame. The heat from them was now so great that Jack crawled away from it into the farthest corner. The tiny room was like an oven, and to add to the discomfort of it and the deadly danger, the smoke thickened visibly, notwithstanding the current passing out through the door.
Jack realized, with a thrill of horror, that here was a duel—a duel to the death. It was a duel between him and those fiercely darting flames. Rather, it was a duel between him and those blazing boards in the partition—a duel of endurance between him and them. Which would be the first to yield? If the boards should hold out the longer, then he—! Jack shuddered once again, with a wry smile over the irony of fate. Here, in this rigorous climate, men went often hand-in-hand with a Death whose scythe was edged with ice. Jack had contemplated the possibility of beingsome time struck down by the numbing cold. It had never occurred to him that in this Arctic land he might die in a hell of his own stoking.
The stifling prisoner dared hope that at last the blaze had weakened the boards sufficiently for his purpose. Whether or no, his suffering drove him to action. The heat was intolerable now. Sweat poured from him. The pungent smoke blinded him, and bit cruelly at throat and lungs. Still without rising to his feet, Jack laid hold of the chair, which was just beside him, and hobbled clumsily toward the partition, pushing the chair before him.
Even this comparatively slight exertion caused the perspiration to gush in new abundance, and here, closer to the flame, the temperature was well-nigh unbearable. Jack's head swam. He felt his senses failing. It was only by a tremendous effort that he regained control of himself. He was aware of his mortal peril. Any least weakening or faltering now would mean his destruction. It was, indeed, a duel to the death—a duel of endurance between him and a foe that knew no mercy.
Jack realized, as well, that there could be no delay in the issue. He must act at once, if he were to act at all. A minute later would be forever too late. His brain was reeling. His agonized flesh could not longer withstand the strain. He felt his energies flow out of him like water.... What he would do must be done instantly—or not at all.
Jack drew a long breath, sprang up, swung the chair, and brought it crashing against the boards of the partition where the flames burned most furiously. The wall did not break, though it seemed to yield a little under the blow. But, before he could try another assault, dizziness sent him staggering away from the unbearable heat and smoke of that spot. He dropped to the floor, where he lay stretched at full length, panting in choking breaths. For a few seconds he was in the grip of despair. He felt himself impotent, doomed to shameful death in this furnace-hole.
Nevertheless, the spirit of the young man, albeit fainting, was not dead. It aroused presently. And it quickened the flesh. Once again Jack acted. His brain was dulled. He was hardly conscious of thought. The whole strength of his being was concentrated in his will to make a last, supreme effort. Again, after a deep breath, he leaped to his feet, seized the chair and hurled it against the center of the flaming mass with every atom of his strength.
In the interval since his first attempt, the fire that threatened him with death had, notwithstanding, been working in his behalf, weakening still more the boards, his enemies in this duel of endurance. The heavy chair burst through the blazing barrier and fell noisily in the other room.
Joy surged in the prisoner. Under the stimulus of it, he forgot pain and feebleness. He rushed at the flaming wall and kicked clear a larger opening. Then he plunged through the flames.
Jack fell headlong on the floor of the sheriff'soffice. By instinct, he remained prostrate, with his face against the floor, else he must have strangled. But instinct urged him onward. He crept toward the window, which, fortunately, was on the side of the room where he had fallen. His eyes were shut fast now, for the smoke had blinded him. But his groping hand, upraised, found the window-sash. Once more Jack held his scant breath as he got to his feet. He drove his elbows through the panes. The zero air enwrapped him. The touch of it was bliss. It brought blessed life to the seared lungs. Jack took one great breath of it. Then he put a foot to the window-ledge, drew himself up and went through, amid the noise of rending glass and wood. Without an instant of pause, or a single glance backward, he was off, plowing his way through the heaped-up snow, which bordered the clear space beyond the buildings. In another minute he was on the solid crust. Thus he ran on in a line parallel with the one street of the village, but behind the buildings that straggled there. He passedthe last of these, and saw before him the white reaches of the valley, without sign of life anywhere, beckoning him on to freedom. His stride quickened and he went forward jubilantly.