THE MAN-WOLF'S STORY.
An accident to the dynamo in that place where there was no fuel, and
electricity must be depended upon for light and heat, was so serious a
matter that, for a moment, even Cabot's curiosity concerning his host
was merged in anxiety.
"Where shall I find it?" he asked.
"In the cavern back of this room. The doorway is behind that bearskin.
This upper row of keys connects with the storage battery, and the
second key controls the lights of the dynamo room. If there is a bad
break I can manage to get to it, but I wouldn't try until you came,
because I promised not to move."
All this was said in a voice that faltered from weakness, and a wave of
pity surged in Cabot's breast as he realised how dependent upon him
this man, so recently a mental as well as a physical giant, had become.
"I expect I shall be able to attend to it all right," he said
decisively, as he turned on the stored current that would light the
unknown cavern. "At any rate, I shall be able to report the condition
of things, so that you can advise me what to do, or else my training is
a greater failure than I think."
With this he lifted the bearskin, opened a door thus disclosed, and
found himself in a small, well-lighted cavern that was at once a dynamo
room, a workshop, and a storehouse for a confused miscellany of
articles. Without pausing to investigate any of these he went directly
to a dynamo that had been set up at one side and examined it carefully.
It appeared in perfect order, and the trouble must evidently be sought
elsewhere.
Cabot had wondered by what power the dynamo was driven, and now,
hearing a sound of running water, he stepped in that direction. A
short distance away he discovered a swift-flowing subterranean stream,
in which revolved a water wheel of rude, but serviceable, construction.
As nothing seemed wrong with it, he was obliged to look further, and
finally found the cause of trouble to be a transmitting belt, the
worn-out lacing of which had parted. As portions of the belt itself
had been caught in the pulleys and badly cut, it was necessary to hunt
through the pile of material for a new one, and for leather suitable
for lacing. Then the new belt must be accurately measured, laced
together, and adjusted to its pulleys.
Although the temperature of the cavern was many degrees above that of
the outside air, it was still so low that Cabot worked slowly and with
numbed fingers. Thus more than an hour had elapsed before the dynamo
was again in running order, and he was at liberty to return to the
living room. In the meantime his curiosity concerning this strange
place of abode and its mysterious tenant was increased by the
remarkable collection of articles stored on all sides. There was no
end of machinery, tools, and electrical apparatus of all kinds,
including miles of copper wire and chemicals for charging batteries.
Besides these, there were ropes, canvas, furniture, boxes, barrels, and
other things too numerous to mention.
"What a prize this place would have been for the Indians if they had
ever discovered it," reflected the young engineer. "I wonder that he
dared go off and leave it unguarded."
When he finally returned to the outer room, he found it even colder
than the cavern in which he had been working, and realised, as never
before, the value of the knowledge that had enabled him to restore the
usefulness of that electric heater. After getting it into operation,
and making his report to the sick man, who had impatiently awaited him,
there was another meal to prepare.
So, in spite of Cabot's overwhelming desire to hear Mr. Balfour's
story, there was so much to be done first that the short day had merged
into another night before the opportunity arrived. When it came, our
lad drew a chair to the bedside of his patient and said:
"Now, sir, if you feel able to talk, and are willing to tell me how you
happen to be living in this place, I shall be more than glad to listen."
"I am willing," replied the other, "but must be brief, since talking
has become an exertion. As perhaps you know, I was a working
electrician in London, where, though I had a good business, I had not
accumulated much money. Consequently I was greatly pleased to receive
what promised to be a lucrative contract from a Canadian railway
company for supplying and installing a quantity of electrical apparatus
along their line. I at once invested every penny I could raise in the
purchase of material and in the charter of a sailing vessel to
transport it to this country. On the eve of sailing I married a young
lady to whom I had long been engaged, and, with light hearts, we set
forth on our wedding trip across the Atlantic.
"The first two weeks of that voyage were filled with such happiness
that I trembled for fear it should be snatched from me. During that
time we had fair weather and favouring winds. Then we ran into a gale
that lasted for days, and drove us far out of our course. One mast
went by the board, the other was cut away to save the ship, and, while
in this helpless condition, she struck at night, what I afterwards
learned to be, a mass of floating ice. At the time all hands believed
us to be on the coast, and the crew, taking our only seaworthy boat,
put off in a panic, while I was below preparing my wife for departure.
Thus deserted, we awaited the death that we expected with each passing
moment, but it failed to come and the ship still floated. With
earliest daylight I was on deck, and, to my amazement, saw land on both
sides. We had been driven into the mouth of a broad estuary, up which
wind and tide were still carrying us.
"For three days our helpless drift, to and fro, was continued, and then
our ship grounded on a ledge at the foot of these cliffs. Getting
ashore with little difficulty, we were dismayed to find ourselves in an
uninhabited wilderness, devoid even of vegetation other than moss and
low growing shrubs. One of my first discoveries was this cavern with
its subterranean stream of water, and two openings, one of which gives
easy access to the sea. Knowing that our ship must, sooner or later,
go to pieces, and desirous of saving what property I might, I rigged up
a derrick at the mouth of the cavern, and, with the aid of my brave
wife, transferred everything movable from the wreck; a labour of months.
"Winter was now at hand, and, foreseeing that we must spend it where we
were, I walled up the openings and made all possible preparations to
fight the coming cold. We burned wood from the wreck while it lasted,
and in the meantime I labored almost night and day at the establishment
of an electric plant. But the awful winter came and found it still
unfinished, and before the coming of another spring I was left alone."
Here the speaker paused, overcome as much by his feelings as by
weakness, and, during the silence that followed, Cabot stole away,
ostensibly to see that the dynamo was running smoothly. When he
returned the narrator had recovered his calmness, and was ready to
continue his story.
"She had never been strong," he said, "and I so cruelly allowed her to
overwork herself that she had no strength left with which to fight the
winter. She died in my arms in this very room, and I promised never to
leave her. Also, after her death, I vowed that my last words to her
should be my last to any human being, and, until this day, I have kept
that vow, foolish and wicked though it was. I have talked and read
aloud when alone, but to no man have I spoken. I have also avoided
intercourse with my fellows, selfishly preferring to nurse my sorrow in
sinful rebellion against God's will. Now am I justly punished by being
stricken down in the pride of my strength. At the same time God has
shown his everlasting mercy by sending you to me in the time of my sore
need. And you have promised to stay with me until the end, which I
feel assured is not far off."
"I trust it may be," said Cabot, "for the world can ill afford to spare
a man of your attainments."
"The world has forgotten me ere this," replied Mr. Balfour, with a
faint smile, "and has also managed to get along very well without me.
Whether it has or has not I feel that I am shortly to rejoin my dear
one."
"How did it happen? I mean your wound," asked Cabot, abruptly changing
the subject. "Was it an accident?"
"It may have been, but I believe not. Dressed in wolf skins, I was
creeping up on a small herd of caribou two days ago, when I was shot by
some unknown person, probably an Indian hunting the same game, though I
never saw him. I managed to crawl home, and as I lay here, filled with
the horror of dying alone, the ringing of my alarm bell announced a
coming of either man or beast. I found strength to turn on the outer
lights and to sound a call for aid on my violin that I hoped would be
heard and understood."
"It was fortunate for me that you did both those things," said Cabot,
"for I should certainly have remained where I fell after stumbling over
the wire if it had not been for the combination of light and music.
But tell me, sir, why have you masqueraded as a man-wolf?"
"For convenience in hunting, as well as to inspire terror in the minds
of savages and keep them at a respectful distance from this place."
"Have they ever troubled you?"
"At first they were inclined to, but not of late years."
"Not of late years! Why, sir, how many years have you dwelt in this
place?"
"A little more than five."
"Five years alone and cut off from the world! I should think you would
feel like a prisoner shut in a dungeon."
"No, for I have led the life of my own choice, and it has been full of
active interests. I have had to hunt, trap, and fish for my own
support. I have tried to redress some wrongs, and have been able to
relieve much distress among the improvident natives. I have busied
myself with electrical experiments, and have explored the surrounding
country for a hundred miles on all sides."
"Have you discovered any indications of mineral wealth during your
explorations?" asked the young engineer, recalling his previous thought
on this subject.
"Quite a number, of which the most important is right here; for this
range of cliffs is so largely composed of red hematite as to form one
of the richest ore beds in the world."