Where Strength Counts
When Hugo left the rock and fled from the presence of his enemies, he
wished to get as far away as possible. But before doing so, he was
determined to see Marion. He could not leave her alone in the cabin,
so if she agreed he would endeavor to take her to The Gap. He would be
running a great risk, he was well aware, but he could not do otherwise.
How he longed to go to her, speed with her to Swift Stream and thence
outside. But he knew that would have to be postponed for a while, and
perhaps for all time.
He thought of this as he hurried on his way beneath the brow of the
high hill, taking special care to keep out of sight of the Police. When
he was sure that he would not be observed, he cautiously approached the
trail, sped across it, and plunged into the thick woods on the lower
side. Had he gone a couple of hundred yards farther on he would have
come across the straggling trail made by the half-breed girl when she,
too, had sought the shelter of those friendly trees. Of this Hugo was
totally unaware as he moved rapidly forward. At times he was but a few
rods from where Zell had travelled. Had Hugo swung a little more to the
right, and the girl somewhat more to the left, their trails would have
met, and how much that would have meant to one, at least.
“Oh, the little more, and how much it is!
And the little less, and what worlds away.”
To Hugo the trackless wilds were as an open book, and he was as sure
of his course as if on a well-beaten trail. Years of experience had
developed his sense of direction, and he pressed steadily onward
without the slightest hesitation. It was only when he came near his
cabin did he slacken his speed and peer cautiously forward and around.
Silence reigned everywhere as he stepped from his snow-shoes, pushed
gently open the door and entered. The dog bounded to meet him, but Hugo
motioning him to be still, looked toward the bunk. Marion was lying
where he had left her, but she was now awake. She smiled as she saw her
father standing there. Then she sat quickly up, an anxious expression
showing in her eyes.
“Did you find Zell?” she asked. “Oh, I know you didn’t,” she added.
“She is not with you.”
“I didn’t find her,” Hugo replied. “I have proof, though, that she was
carried off by someone.”
“Oh!” It was all that Marion said, as she waited for further
information.
In a few words Hugo told her what he had discovered, the signs
of struggle in the snow, and the blood marks by the ashes of the
camping-place.
“Oh, what can we do?” Marion asked, slipping from the bunk and standing
before her father. “Can we not follow her, and rescue her from her
captors?”
Before Hugo could reply, a bark from the dog, which had gone outside,
startled him, causing him to bound to the door. For a second he
listened intently, and when he turned around Marion was surprised at
the fierce look in his eyes.
“The Police!” he growled. “They’re coming up the trail! I must be off
at once. They’ll look after you.”
“Oh, don’t go,” Marion pleaded. “I don’t want to lose you. Why are you
so afraid of the Police?”
Hugo made no reply. He left the room, stepped into his snow-shoes,
and ordering the dog to remain behind, plunged into a thicket of firs
and jack-pines on the upper side of the cabin. His heart was filled
with bitterness and hatred as he moved forward. For years he had been
fleeing from the Police, ever hounded from place to place. Formerly
it had not mattered so much, as he had refuges to which he could go.
But now it was different. He wanted to stay with Marion and give up
his endless wandering life. But it could not be. The Police were
everywhere, tireless and alert.
Ascending the hill which stretched along back of the cabin, he at
length stopped at a spot where he could obtain a fairly good view of
what was taking place down below. He saw the Police come to the trail
leading to the cabin, where they paused to investigate. He could see
Sergeant North advancing alone, so he knew that he would soon be with
Marion. That she meant anything to him Hugo had not the least idea. Had
he known of their love for each other, his troubles would have been
greatly increased. Would Marion tell the sergeant of his whereabouts?
What reason would she have for keeping silent?
He thought of all this as he crouched there. Then, knowing that to
remain longer would be of no avail, he slipped away, sped along the
side of the hill, and crossed the main trail half a mile or more
farther on. Far away beyond the valley he had another cabin, and there
he decided to go for food and rest.
Shaping his course by a distant mountain peak, he strode rapidly
onward. Anger and disappointment raged in his bosom, as with great
swinging strides he plowed through the snow down toward the valley
below. He did not mind the cold, neither did the sombre forest have any
terror for him. In fact, he would have welcomed another encounter with
a pack of wolves. He was in a fighting mood and would have proven a
stern antagonist to any living creature attempting to oppose him.
Passing through a heavy tract of timber he came out into a region where
the trees were small and scattered. Here the snow was deep and in
places it had been whipped by the wind in long drifts. Part way across
this desolate stretch he came suddenly upon a straggling trail which
caused him to stop and examine it with the greatest attention. He could
easily tell that it was made by a human being floundering wildly along.
He looked first to the right and then to the left, wondering which way
the traveller had gone.
“What in time could anyone be doing here without snow-shoes?” he asked
himself. “Why, the fellow must be crazy!”
Then an illuminating idea flashed through his mind. It must be the
half-breed girl! She had no doubt escaped from her captor, and in
trying to get back to her camping-place had lost her way. But where was
Bill? Why had he not followed her? Then he thought of the blood he had
seen upon the snow by the cold ashes. Had the girl in some way wounded
him? Perhaps she was armed, and had disabled the villain.
Thinking thus, he decided that the girl had gone up the valley, and
could not be very far away, judging by the depth of the snow, and the
crookedness of her trail. Forgotten were his own troubles as he thought
of the girl’s desperate situation. He must follow after and do what he
could for her welfare, providing she were still alive.
It did not take Hugo long to speed across the snowy waste, and reach
a thicket of trees beyond. But at every stride his eyes were upon the
marks in the snow. At times he saw where the girl had circled to the
right and then to the left, showing plainly the bewildered state of her
mind. He could not tell how long before she had passed that way. If but
a few minutes, he might be able to save her. But if an hour, or even
less, had elapsed, he feared he might be too late. But with feverish
haste he pressed onward, entered the thicket, passed through and came
out shortly on the opposite side. Here he halted and looked around. It
was a region over which a fire had swept the year before, and forms of
trees stood gaunt and bare. His eyes searched keenly for some moving
object in the midst of the mass of upturned roots and fallen trees. But
no sign of life could he see.
He was about to continue his journey when a peculiar sound fell upon
his ears. Listening intently, he found that it came from the left. It
was like a human voice, yet he could not distinguish what was being
said. He knew that it must be the girl, and his heart leaped with hope
as he hurried forward. It took him only a few minutes to reach the
place where Zell was lying upon the snow, still babbling and crooning
about other days.
“Hello, girl, what are you doing here?” Hugo demanded.
But Zell gave no sign of recognition. She kept on talking, all the
time clawing at the snow with her mittened hands. In an instant
Hugo knew what was the trouble. The girl’s mind was affected by the
experience through which she had recently passed. He stood for a few
seconds looking upon her, while an overwhelming rage welled up in his
heart against the villain responsible for her sad condition. He longed
to track him, and bestow upon him the punishment he rightly deserved.
But he had no time to think about such things now, as the girl demanded
his immediate attention. He must do something for her welfare. But what
could he do? He thought of his cabin on the hillside which he had left
but a short time before. That was the place where he should take the
girl, for Marion was there to attend to her. But to go back was out
of the question. The Police were there. No, he must take the girl to
his cabin beyond the valley toward which he was headed. It would be a
difficult task, he was well aware, to carry the girl all that distance.
But he knew that he could do it, for she was slight while he was very
strong.
He was about to stoop and lift her from the snow, when Zell tottered to
her feet, and looked wildly around. Her eyes were wide with terror, and
she pressed fearfully back from some imaginary foe.
“Keep back! Keep back!” she shrieked. “Oh! Oh!”
“Hush,” Hugo ordered, laying his hand upon her shoulder. “I won’t let
anything harm you.”
But the girl shrank aside at his touch, and beat the air with her hands.
“The wolves! The wolves!” she cried. “They are upon me! Don’t let them
get me!”
To attempt to reason with the girl Hugo knew would be useless. He must
get her to the cabin as speedily as possible. Stooping, he lifted
her from the snow, and with her in his arms he started forward. For a
few minutes Zell struggled and screamed so furiously that Hugo found
it difficult to make much progress. But at length she quieted down,
and lay panting in his arms. At first he did not mind her weight, but
after he had travelled some distance he was forced to lay her down in
the snow to relieve his aching arms. Then up and on again over that
desolate waste.
The dawn of a new day found Hugo about half a mile from his cabin.
He was walking slowly now, for he was greatly exhausted. His coat he
had taken off and wrapped it carefully around the girl. Even then he
feared lest she should freeze, for the night was very cold. He even
wondered at himself as he bore his burden up hills, across valleys, and
through thick forests. He could not account for his sympathy for this
poor demented half-breed girl. It was a feeling similar to that which
had animated his soul when he had journeyed with the little child from
the river to the hospital. Time and time again he had rescued sick
and injured miners and prospectors, and had taken them to the nearest
mining camp. He had done it because there was nothing else to do, and
he could not leave them to perish. He had felt a certain degree of pity
for them, but his heart had never been stirred in such a manner as
when caring for the child and especially the girl. She had been deeply
wronged, so perhaps that was the reason, for Hugo was ever the champion
of the ill-treated.
Slowly the moon faded off in the west as the weary man plodded onward.
The sun rose above the mountain peaks, and skimmed low along the
eastern horizon. Ere long Hugo could see the spot where nestled his
little cabin, and with a great sigh of relief he climbed the hill,
reached the door, pushed it open and entered. Upon a rude bunk on one
side of the room he laid the helpless girl. Tired though he was, he at
once started a fire in the little camping-stove, and prepared some food
from a supply he always kept on hand. In a short time he had heated
some stewed moose meat left from his last meal there, and forced a few
spoonfuls between the girl’s firm-set teeth. It was all that he could
do except cover her with two thick gray four-point blankets. He stood
watching her as she lay there, now asleep, worn out with the fatigue
of the night. What was he to do with her? he wondered. Where could he
take her? That she needed more attention than he could give her, he was
certain. But where could he go for assistance?
Hugo thought of these things as he ate his supper, and afterwards
sat smoking near the stove. It felt good to be back once more in the
shelter of his own cabin, and but for his worry about the girl he would
have felt quite happy. He mused upon the events of the day and wondered
how Marion was getting along. He was quite sure that she would go away
with the Police, but just where he had no idea. He did not feel so
bitter now about being driven forth into the night. If he had remained
there with Marion the half-breed girl would surely have perished.
During his long sojourn in the wilderness Hugo had often puzzled over
the mystery of life. Notwithstanding his spirit of rebellion for
man-made law, deep down in his heart there was a profound respect for
the unchanging law of Nature. As he journeyed along the trails; as he
watched the western sky burnished with the glory of the setting sun; as
he faced the furious storms of winter, or stood in some great silent
valley, he had learned over and over again that there was no effect
without some corresponding cause. He never could believe that things
happened according to blind chance. Several times he had tried to force
himself to that way of thinking, but all in vain. The great book spread
out before him was so unmistakably clear that he could never remain in
doubt for any length of time.
So sitting now in the silent cabin he thought of the events which had
led him to the side of that lost girl. At first appearance it seemed
as if those two guardians of the North were the cause. But the more
he thought about it, the more convinced he became that they were but
instruments in the hands of a greater force, a Divine power overruling
all things. What had led them so unerringly that night from the distant
trail where he had seen them the day before? What had changed their
course? He could arrive at only one conclusion, and it filled his soul
with awe. It thrilled him, too, making him feel that he was surrounded
by a sustaining influence working on his behalf. He suddenly thought of
the night he had spent in the shack with the sleeping child, and the
wonderful vision he had there beheld of the mysterious light, and the
strange presence hovering over the little one.
For some time Hugo sat there, thinking of these things. The
transformation which had been going on in his soul of late was
steadily gaining in strength. A new vision had come to him, and with
the vision was a new desire. He felt that he was no longer merely
Hugo, the trapper, the outcast, but an instrument in the hands of an
unseen power. He looked toward the sleeping girl, and felt that in
some way she was being used as an important instrument in the shaping
of his life. And as he watched her, his future line of action became
strangely clear, and a new sense of power possessed his entire being.
Rising suddenly from his seat, he passed out of the cabin and laid
his hands upon a small toboggan half-buried in the snow. This he
carried into the room, and placed it near the stove. When it was well
thawed out and dry, he began to repair the broken parts. With strong
moose-hide thongs he deftly repaired the damages wrought by many a hard
trail. He then laid the toboggan aside, stepped across the room and
examined his scanty supply of provisions upon a rough shelf fastened to
the wall.