Nell, standing before the cabin-door, peered for the hundredth time that
night across the valley. Her eyes seemed to catch in the far distance a
hint of movement, a flickering shadow out there in the dim light of snow
beneath starlight. It was gone in the same instant. It must have been a
trickery of vision. No! there it was again--a shadow that moved, a
tiniest speck, but real. Nell's hands went to her bosom convulsively. It
could be none other than Mr. Maxwell--her father--coming there. Did he
come alone? She stood with straining eyes in a torment of doubt. Soon
she was able to make out that only one figure ran with the moving sled.
It was as if the heart died in her. Then, in the next moment, she
thought that she could distinguish vaguely the outlines of another form
on the sled. She was a-tremble with hope. The sled rushed toward her up
the slope, the wearied dogs mending their pace in the frantic delight of
home-coming. It was certainty now. Nell could see the man on the sled.
He waved a hand to her. A cry of rapture burst from her lips. Within the
minute, she was clasped to her husband's breast--all sorrows forgot.
Presently, when the first excitement of the reunion was over, and the
three were together in the cheery warmth of the cabin, Jack told his
story very briefly, whereat Nell paled and trembled as she realized how
near to death this night had been the man she loved. But, when the
fugitive finished the story with his arrival at the point where Jim
Maxwell waited, Nell suddenly rose and went to the older man and threw
herself on his breast and kissed him.
[Illustration: WHEN THE FIRST EXCITEMENT OF THE REUNION WAS OVER, JACK
TOLD HIS STORY.]
"Father, if it hadn't been for you--!"
Jack regarded the scene in amazement, not untinged by disapproval.
Gratitude was all very well, but it need not express itself too
extravagantly. Then he almost forgot the embrace in wonder over the
word--"father!"
"Eh?" he questioned confusedly. "You've adopted him? That is, he's
adopted you?"
"Oh!" Nell exclaimed, drawing away from her father to regard him with
consternation. "Didn't you tell him?"
Jim Maxwell smiled very tenderly.
"No, I didn't tell him. I thought maybe you'd like to do that yourself,
dear."
Nell kissed her father again, with such enthusiasm that Jack's
disapproval returned with increased bitterness.
"You're a darling, Father," she declared happily. In the reaction from
her suffering, she was bubbling over with girlish gayety. "I'd just love
to tell him. It will be such fun to see his eyes pop out."
It was fun--and something deeper and sweeter. Jack, for his part,
welcomed the fact of this new relationship with the man so curiously and
intimately brought into his life. He rejoiced for his own sake, and he
rejoiced more for Nell's; since now she need no longer mourn over being
a nameless waif, though the mystery of her life was only partly
explained.
The hands of the two met in a warm clasp, and their eyes met no less
warmly in a firm, honest gaze of mutual liking and respect.
"I reckon I've done a pretty good day's work," Jim said, with a
whimsical smile to mask his emotion. "I've got a daughter and a son,
too--both in one day. And I didn't have anybody before--not for twelve
years." There was a pathetic intensity in his voice, which touched the
two hearers to a new appreciation of this man's great loneliness. Then
Jim Maxwell shrugged his shoulders, as if he would cast off the mood of
emotion. He spoke rapidly now, with incisive directness.
"You must get across the Border as fast as you can. I'll tell you some
short cuts." He had driven his dogs often to Malamute, and knew the ways
by which the fugitives might gain advantage over their pursuers. "You've
had an hour here, and it would be risky to wait any longer before
starting out. They may be after you any minute."
[Illustration: HE HAD OFTEN DRIVEN HIS DOGS TO MALAMUTE.]
"They may think I've been burned up in the fire," Jack suggested.
Jim shook his head in dissent.
"No. Those logs would take a good bit of burning. Somebody would give
the alarm, and they'd tumble out to see the fire, and they'd see that
window you'd smashed through."
"And I had to wade through some loose snow," Jack added. "They'd find my
tracks fast enough."
"Tracks leading this way! I tell you, there's no time to be lost. You
know the trails to Malamute. Make it as quick as you can. From there,
strike across the Border."
He was interrupted by Nell, who exclaimed impulsively:
"But, Father, what about you? I can't bear the thought of leaving you
now, when I've just found you after all these years."
Jim Maxwell smiled down on his daughter with deep fondness.
"When you're in Canada, write to me here--to Kalmak, telling me where
you will be, and I'll join you very soon."
He turned to Jack and gave explicit directions as to how the route to
Malamute might be shortened profitably. When he was sure that the young
man had understood, he turned again to Nell.
"I'm not quite so poor as I look, little girl," he said, smiling. "When
I join you I'll have a wedding-present ready for you--for you, and for
the boy here." His glance went affectionately to Jack, who returned it
with like affection.
Preparations for the departure of the two were speedily made. The
farewells were uttered; father and daughter kissed tenderly; the men
shook hands heartily. Then the dogs, in fine fettle after ample food and
rest, leaped forward with joyous energy. The night was clear enough to
see the way distinctly; there was no danger of mistaking the trail. On
and on they flew over the frozen surface of the snow, following the
valleys that trended to the east. Warmly clad and habituated to icy
airs, the two did not suffer any discomfort from the bitter cold of the
wind created by their rapid motion through the night. On the contrary,
it set their blood tingling with the joy of life. Both were gloriously
happy. The starlight was as noon-day since they had come out of the
valley of the shadow.
Thus they went forward swiftly, Nell stretched at ease, Jack riding and
running by turns. In the twilight of dawn, they came on a native family
comfortably encamped, and here they halted for an hour, that the dogs
might be fed and rested, and that they, too, might eat and rest. They
basked contentedly in the cheery heat from the flames, and at last took
leave of their stolid hosts almost reluctantly. Then, once again, they
went skimming over the waste, as the pale-yellow sun crept languidly
above the horizon. The slanting beams set all the scene a-shimmer with
prismatic radiance from the snow crystals. Hitherto, the two had been
content with silence, happy in the knowledge that they were together
and that the speeding miles put peril far behind. Now, however, with the
quickening life of day, the placid mood came to an end. They became
lively, garrulous, demonstrative. Nell insisted that Jack should
rehearse for her anew every detail of his escape from the jail. The
husband, in turn, demanded a full account of how father and daughter had
become known to each other. Both were curious to know the story of Jim
Maxwell's life. They could not forbear many speculations as to the
nature of the events that had driven this man, whom Jack liked and
esteemed, and whom Nell had already grown to love, to isolate himself
thus in the desolate North. But they could only guess, since the father
had told nothing of himself, except the single fact of his relationship
to Nell.
They made Malamute in mid-afternoon. Jack halted the dogs in front of
the chief structure in the place, which, though nominally only a saloon,
was in fact the hotel and trading post.
"Don't get out, Nell," Jack directed. "I'll have to get directions here
for the next stage in the journey. Maybe we'll have to stay for the
night, and maybe we won't. I'll be back in a minute." With that he
hurried off and entered the saloon.
As the door swung open to admit the newcomer, the few men straggling
along the bar, or lounging at the tables, looked up in mild curiosity to
see who this might be. Only one showed any especial interest in the
stranger. This single exception was a man who sat by a table placed
against the wall at right angles to the bar. He had been lazily busy
over a game of solitaire, while the woman seated across the table from
him looked on listlessly. At Jack's entrance, he had looked up with
languid attention. On the instant, he was transformed. All the
indifference of his expression vanished. His face showed first an
unbounded amazement, then rage. Finally, another emotion--hardly fear,
but a furtive anxiety closely akin to fear. He watched covertly as the
escaped prisoner went up to the bar, where, after ordering a drink, he
began questioning the bartender concerning the most direct route to the
Border.
Having secured the information he required, Jack went back to Nell, who
sat waiting on the sled, snug within her furs.
[Illustration: JACK WENT BACK TO NELL, WHO SAT ON THE SLED, SNUG WITHIN
HER FURS.]
"We'd better stay here for the night," he explained, "and make an early
start in the morning."
Nell got down from the sled obediently and accompanied her husband into
the saloon, where arrangements for their entertainment were speedily
concluded. It was only after the two had gone upstairs to the room
assigned them that the man, who had held his head bent low over the
spread-out cards of the solitaire game during their presence, looked up
and beckoned to a tall, rough-featured individual standing alone at one
end of the bar. This was the sheriff of Malamute. As he came near, Dan
McGrew spoke, and his voice rasped.
"Did you recognize that chap with the girl?"
"Never laid eyes on him before," the official averred. "What about it?"
"When I was down at Kalmak the other day," Dangerous Dan answered
impressively, "they arrested that fellow for murder. He's broken jail."
The sheriff grinned contentedly.
"Then right here's where he breaks in again. I'll see to that. You're
sure there's no mistake?"
"No mistake!" was the terse assurance. "I'll swear to his identity if
necessary. But probably there'll be somebody after him pretty soon, as
they'd figure he'd take this way for the Border."
"I thought you were going in the morning," the sheriff objected. "I'll
have to have you for a witness, if nobody else turns up."
"Oh, I'll stay, all right!" Dan laughed.
And the Fates must have laughed with him, and at him, in mockery; for,
in this last malignant act, Dangerous Dan McGrew worked evil against
himself and none other.... Lou, looking on apathetically, wondered why
Dan should be so eager to deliver over a fugitive from justice. He was
not usually so intolerant of crime!