THE GIRL OF THE PURPLE FLAME
There is something in the sharp tang of the Arctic air, in the honest
weariness of a long day of tramping, in the invigorating freshness of
everything about one, that makes for perfect repose. In spite of the
problems that faced them, regardless of the mystery that haunted this
chamber of nature, hour after hour, to the very tune of the whirling
storm, the girls slept the calm and peaceful sleep of those who bear ill
will toward no one.
When at last Marian pried her eyes open to look at her watch, she was
surprised to learn that eight hours had passed. She did not look to see
the gleam of dawn at the mouth of the cave. Dawn in this strange Arctic
land was still four hours away.
She knew that the storm was still raging. There came the roar and boom of
the wind. Now and again, as if the demons of storm were determined upon
pulling them from their retreat, a steady sucking breath of it came
sweeping down through the cave. Marian listened, and then she quoted:
“‘Blow high, blow low,
Not all your snow
Can quench our hearth-fire’s
Ruddy glow.’”
She smiled to herself. Their tiny fire had gone out long ago, but another
might easily be kindled.
She was about to turn over in her bed for another ten winks, when she
suddenly remembered the mysterious discovery of the night before—the
ashes and the bones, and at once she found herself eager for an
exploration of the place. To discover if possible what sort of people had
been here before her; to guess how long ago that had been; to search for
any relics they may have left behind—all these exerted upon her mind an
irresistible appeal.
She had risen and was drawing on her knickers when Attatak awakened.
“Come on,” Marian cried, “it is morning. The storm is still tearing away
at the mountain side. We can’t go on our way. We—”
“_Eleet-pon-a-muck!_” (too bad), broke in Attatak. “Now Bill Scarberry
will get our pasture. The Agent will pass before we arrive. We shall have
no one to defend our herd.”
At this Marian plumped down upon her sleeping bag. What Attatak said was
true. Should they be unable to leave the cave this day, the gain they had
hoped to make was lost.
“Well,” she laughed bravely, “we have reindeer, and they are swift. We
will win yet.”
“Anyway,” she said, springing to her feet, “no use crying over spilled
milk. Until we can leave the cave our time’s our own. Come on. Get
dressed. We’ll see what wealth lies hidden in this old home in the
mountain side.”
In the meantime Patsy was having a full share of strange adventure. Late
in the afternoon, feeling herself quite free from the annoying presence
of the visiting band of Eskimos and of Scarberry’s herd, she harnessed
her favorite spotted reindeer and went for a drive up the valley. The two
young Eskimos who worked under Terogloona had been sent into the hills to
round up their herd and bring them into camp. This was one of the daily
tasks of the herders. If this was done every day the herd would never
stray too far. Patsy liked to mount a hill with her sled deer and then,
like a general reviewing his troops, watch the broad procession of brown
and white deer as they marched down the valley.
This day she was a little late. The herd began passing before she had
climbed half way up the ridge. She paused to watch them pass. Then,
undecided whether to climb on up the slope or turn back to camp, she
stood there until the uncertain light of the low Arctic sun had faded and
night had come. Just as she had decided to turn her deer toward home, she
caught a purple gleam on the hill directly above her.
“The purple flame!” she exclaimed. “And not a quarter of a mile above me.
I could climb up there in fifteen minutes.”
For a moment she stood undecided. Then, seized by a sudden touch of
daring, she whirled her deer about, tethered him to his sled, and went
scouting up a gully toward the spot where the mysterious flame had
flashed for a moment, then had gone out.
“I’ll see something, anyway,” she told herself as she strove in vain to
still the painful fluttering of her heart.
She had worked her way to a position on the side of the hill where the
outlines of a tent, with its extension of stovepipe standing out black
above it, was outlined against the sky. Then, to her consternation, she
saw the flaps of the tent move.
“Someone is coming out,” she whispered to herself. “Perhaps they have
been watching me through a hole in the tent. Perhaps—”
Her heart stopped beating at thought of the dangers that might be
threatening. Should she turn and flee, or should she flatten herself
against the snow and hope that she might not be seen? Suddenly
remembering that her parka, made of white fawnskin, would blend perfectly
with the snow, she decided on the latter course.
There was not a second to lose. Hardly had she melted into the background
of snow when a person appeared at the entrance of the tent.
Then it was that Patsy received a thrilling shock. She had been prepared
to see a bearded miner, an Eskimo, most any type of man. But the person
she saw was not a man, but _a woman_; scarcely that—little more than a
girl.
It was with the utmost difficulty that Patsy suppressed an audible
exclamation. Closing her lips tight, she took one startled look at the
strange girl.
Carefully dressed in short plaid skirt, bright checkered mackinaw, and a
blue knit hood; the girl stood perfectly silhouetted against the sky. Her
eyes and hair were brown; Patsy was sure of that. Her features were fine.
There was a deep shade of healthy pink in her cheeks.
“She’s not a native Alaskan,” Patsy told herself. “Like me, she has not
been long in Alaska.”
How she knew this she could not exactly tell, but she was as sure of it
as she was of anything in life. Suddenly she was puzzled by a question:
“What had brought the girl from the warmth of the tent into the cold?”
Patsy saw her glance up toward the sky. There was a rapt look on her face
as she gazed fixedly at the first evening stars.
“It’s as if she were saying a prayer or a Psalm,” Patsy murmured. “‘The
heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament his handiwork.’”
For a full moment the strange girl stood thus; then, turning slowly, she
stepped back into the tent. That the tent had at least one other
occupant, Patsy knew at once by a shadow that flitted across the wall as
the girl entered.
“Well,” mused Patsy. “Well, now, I wonder?”
She was more puzzled than ever, but suddenly remembering that she had
barely escaped being caught spying on these strangers, she rose and went
gliding down the hill.
When she reached her reindeer she loosed him and turned him toward home,
nor did she allow him to pause until he stood beside her igloo.
Once inside her lodge, with the candle gleaming brightly and a fire of
dry willows snapping in the sheet-iron stove, Patsy took a good long time
for thinking things through.
Somewhat to her surprise, she found herself experiencing a new feeling of
safety. It was true she had not been much afraid since Marian had left
her alone with the herders, for it was but a step from her igloo to
Terogloona’s tent. This old herder, who treated her as if she were his
grandchild, would gladly give his life in defending her from danger.
Nevertheless, a little feeling of fear lingered in her mind whenever she
thought of the tent of the purple flame. As she thought of it now she
realized that she had lost that fear when she had discovered that there
was a girl living in that tent.
“And yet,” she told herself, “there are bad women in Alaska just as there
are everywhere. She might be bad, but somehow she didn’t look bad. She
looked educated and sort of refined and—and—she looked a bit lonely as
she stood there gazing at the stars. I wanted to walk right up to her and
say ‘Hello!’ just like that, nice and chummy. Perhaps I will, too, some
day.
“And perhaps I won’t,” she thoughtfully added a moment later. Something
of the old dread of the purple flame still haunted her mind. Then, too,
there were two puzzling questions: Why were these people here at all; and
how did they live, if not off Marian’s deer?
Not many days later Patsy was to make a startling discovery that, to all
appearances, was an answer to this last question.