And in this way things went along for a month,--Mrs. Eppingwell striving
to withhold the man from the Greek dancer's blandishments against the
time of Flossie's coming; Flossie lessening the miles each day on the
dreary trail; Freda pitting her strength against the model-woman; the
model-woman straining every nerve to land the prize; and the man moving
through it all like a flying shuttle, very proud of himself, whom he
believed to be a second Don Juan.
It was nobody's fault except the man's that Loraine Lisznayi at last
landed him. The way of a man with a maid may be too wonderful to know,
but the way of a woman with a man passeth all conception; whence the
prophet were indeed unwise who would dare forecast Floyd Vanderlip's
course twenty-four hours in advance. Perhaps the model-woman's
attraction lay in that to the eye she was a handsome animal; perhaps she
fascinated him with her old-world talk of palaces and princes; leastwise
she dazzled him whose life had been worked out in uncultured roughness,
and he at last agreed to her suggestion of a run down the river and a
marriage at Forty Mile. In token of his intention he bought dogs from
Sitka Charley,--more than one sled is necessary when a woman like Loraine
Lisznayi takes to the trail, and then went up the creek to give orders
for the superintendence of his Bonanza mines during his absence.
He had given it out, rather vaguely, that he needed the animals for
sledding lumber from the mill to his sluices, and right here is where
Sitka Charley demonstrated his fitness. He agreed to furnish dogs on a
given date, but no sooner had Floyd Vanderlip turned his toes up-creek,
than Charley hied himself away in perturbation to Loraine Lisznayi. Did
she know where Mr. Vanderlip had gone? He had agreed to supply that
gentleman with a big string of dogs by a certain time; but that shameless
one, the German trader Meyers, had been buying up the brutes and skimped
the market. It was very necessary he should see Mr. Vanderlip, because
of the shameless one he would be all of a week behindhand in filling the
contract. She did know where he had gone? Up-creek? Good! He would
strike out after him at once and inform him of the unhappy delay. Did he
understand her to say that Mr. Vanderlip needed the dogs on Friday night?
that he must have them by that time? It was too bad, but it was the
fault of the shameless one who had bid up the prices. They had jumped
fifty dollars per head, and should he buy on the rising market he would
lose by the contract. He wondered if Mr. Vanderlip would be willing to
meet the advance. She knew he would? Being Mr. Vanderlip's friend, she
would even meet the difference herself? And he was to say nothing about
it? She was kind to so look to his interests. Friday night, did she
say? Good! The dogs would be on hand.
An hour later, Freda knew the elopement was to be pulled off on Friday
night; also, that Floyd Vanderlip had gone up-creek, and her hands were
tied. On Friday morning, Devereaux, the official courier, bearing
despatches from the Governor, arrived over the ice. Besides the
despatches, he brought news of Flossie. He had passed her camp at Sixty
Mile; humans and dogs were in good condition; and she would doubtless be
in on the morrow. Mrs. Eppingwell experienced a great relief on hearing
this; Floyd Vanderlip was safe up-creek, and ere the Greek girl could
again lay hands upon him, his bride would be on the ground. But that
afternoon her big St. Bernard, valiantly defending her front stoop, was
downed by a foraging party of trail-starved Malemutes. He was buried
beneath the hirsute mass for about thirty seconds, when rescued by a
couple of axes and as many stout men. Had he remained down two minutes,
the chances were large that he would have been roughly apportioned and
carried away in the respective bellies of the attacking party; but as it
was, it was a mere case of neat and expeditious mangling. Sitka Charley
came to repair the damages, especially a right fore-paw which had
inadvertently been left a fraction of a second too long in some other
dog's mouth. As he put on his mittens to go, the talk turned upon
Flossie and in natural sequence passed on to the--"er horrid woman."
Sitka Charley remarked incidentally that she intended jumping out down
river that night with Floyd Vanderlip, and further ventured the
information that accidents were very likely at that time of year.
So Mrs. Eppingwell's thoughts of Freda were unkinder than ever. She
wrote a note, addressed it to the man in question, and intrusted it to a
messenger who lay in wait at the mouth of Bonanza Creek. Another man,
bearing a note from Freda, also waited at that strategic point. So it
happened that Floyd Vanderlip, riding his sled merrily down with the last
daylight, received the notes together. He tore Freda's across. No, he
would not go to see her. There were greater things afoot that night.
Besides, she was out of the running. But Mrs. Eppingwell! He would
observe her last wish,--or rather, the last wish it would be possible for
him to observe,--and meet her at the Governor's ball to hear what she had
to say. From the tone of the writing it was evidently important;
perhaps-- He smiled fondly, but failed to shape the thought. Confound it
all, what a lucky fellow he was with the women any way! Scattering her
letter to the frost, he _mushed_ the dogs into a swinging lope and headed
for his cabin. It was to be a masquerade, and he had to dig up the
costume used at the Opera House a couple of months before. Also, he had
to shave and to eat. Thus it was that he, alone of all interested, was
unaware of Flossie's proximity.
"Have them down to the water-hole off the hospital, at midnight, sharp.
Don't fail me," he said to Sitka Charley, who dropped in with the advice
that only one dog was lacking to fill the bill, and that that one would
be forthcoming in an hour or so. "Here's the sack. There's the scales.
Weigh out your own dust and don't bother me. I've got to get ready for
the ball."
Sitka Charley weighed out his pay and departed, carrying with him a
letter to Loraine Lisznayi, the contents of which he correctly imagined
to refer to a meeting at the water-hole of the hospital, at midnight,
sharp.