A MESSAGE AND THE END
"Rose Emer!"
With his whole heart in those two spoken words, Polaris made as if he
would spring forward. But masking the heart is the mind, and the mind
of Polaris held him still. So he stood, with his bosom swelling until
it seemed that it must burst the unwonted garments which confined it.
One faithful soul was there whom conventions and the chill doubts that
beset human hearts and brains did not restrain. With one leap Marcus
crossed the space between the threshold and Polaris. He reared, and
when his paws rested on the shoulders of the man, the eyes of the dog
and man met.
One searching look gave Marcus, and whined; and it seemed as though his
steadfast heart would break for joy. He dropped to all fours again.
With every muscle in his splendid body aquiver, he backed against the
man's legs and began to pivot around him slowly, baying the while to
the full extent of his powerful lungs.
So Marcus told the world that he had found his master.
"Polaris! Found at last!" More slow, but no less joyfully than did
Marcus, Rose Emer crossed from the doorway with extended hands. As she
walked she limped ever so slightly; noting which, Polaris's lips were
contracted with the pang of memory.
"Not yet," she said, when he would have spoken. She whirled from him to
the scientists at the table. Every eye was on her.
"Gentlemen," she began breathlessly, "you would not give this man a
hearing because he is unknown to you, because he tells a strange story,
and because he brought you no proof. I am Rose Emer, of whom you know.
I wish to speak to you for a few moments. It is of this man's story
that I wish to speak. Perhaps you shall have proof of the strangest
that he has told. Certainly I shall tell you of stranger. Will you hear
me?"
As she paused, President Dean, who was born a Virginian, was at her
elbow with a chair. She took it, and sat facing the table. Polaris she
motioned to come and stand by her, and he took his stand by her chair,
with one hand resting upon its back and the other on the head of Marcus.
"We will listen with pleasure to what Miss Emer has to say," said
President Dean, and resumed his seat.
"There are certain passages in the expedition to discover the pole
which had not been told," she began. There was an almost imperceptible
shifting of seats as the men at the table leaned forward to catch
every word from the lips of the speaker. Scoland shot her a quick
glance and then sat sullenly picking at a blotter that lay before him.
"There were certain happenings that have a mighty import for the
world," she continued, "which have not been even so much as hinted at.
They are in the keeping of this man here and myself. At his request I
kept silent; now is the time to speak.
"Gentlemen, this man is neither poor nor without friends. All that
I have is his. He saved my life down there in the ice and snow and
horror--saved it and kept it, risking his own like a trifle a hundred
times over. No, I _will_ tell it all," as Polaris put forth a hand to
restrain her.
With a dull red flush burning up in his cheeks, he folded his arms and
gazed steadily through the windows as the girl went on, telling the
spellbound assembly the amazing story.
When she had finished she looked narrowly at Captain Scoland, and said:
"I think that he was wise to decide to keep these things a secret until
now. All of these things are true, and I, Rose Emer, witness for them.
Now as to the other matter--the discoveries by this man's father and
the message he sent to the north--here is that message."
From the bosom of her dress she drew an envelope-shaped packet sewn in
membrane. She handed it to President Dean. Through the transparent skin
that covered it, he saw on the yellowed paper that it was addressed to
the National Geographic Society, and to "Zenas Wright, if he still be a
member."
For a moment he turned it over in his hands. Then he passed it to
Wright.
"Open it, old friend, and read," he said.
And this is what Zenas Wright read:
"Most of the contents of this packet are proofs, to be laid at the
disposal of the society; for I have found the pole, Zenas. I have
stood where no other man has ever stood. But that's in the proofs,
Zenas--and you shall see them, if Polaris wins through with them.
If not--why, then, one more vain dream.
"This is my son, Polaris, Zenas, who brings my message to the world.
You remember I always wanted to do big things. Well, I decided to
find the pole. I would go alone, and the glory of achievement would
be mine alone. Now I am dying here in the snows, and the only human
face I've seen for years is that of my son.
"Briefly, I took enough money from my estates to serve my purposes
and went atraveling. Then I disappeared. I bought a ship, the Yedda,
in Japan. I had her fitted out in Nagasaki and Hong Kong. Then I
went to Australia. We sailed from there.
"Alas I met _her_ before we sailed. I was mad. We eloped, and God
forgive me, I took her with me. She was the daughter of a wealthy
trader in Sydney, Horace Kering.
"We sailed into the snows. We camped, and I pushed through with
dogs. I was gone months. I found the pole. I returned. They had
deserted. The scoundrels had gone and left her; only the old cook
was faithful. I never heard of them again, and often I hoped that
they were lost.
"The child was born. She lived but a few short months. Then she
went, too. The cook also, he's dead these many years. The boy lived.
"We would have come north together, but then I fell and hurt my leg.
I will never travel. The boy, he's taken care of both of us for
years. He knows not his own name, except that I call him Polaris.
I've educated him. For years I've trained his mind. The life has
trained his body. He's stronger than I ever was, and I was no
weakling.
"When I go, he'll go to the north. That won't be long, now. My God,
I've been here twenty-four years! What must have happened out in
the world! But, Zenas, I'll not whine. Old comrade, if the boy
comes, be good to him. He's a good lad. There's enough left of the
old estate in California to make him rich, if it's been cared for.
I've left him no letter, but tell him that his old father loved him
well.
"Good-by, Zenas.
"Stephen Janess."
Old Zenas Wright stopped reading and for a moment covered his eyes with
his wrinkled hands. Then he raised his head. He fumbled with the papers.
"Here, the rest of them are observations and data," he said, and handed
them back to President Dean. Members of the society elbowed each other
to get a look at them. Under cover of the bustle, Polaris Janess
clasped the hand of Rose Emer.
"Ah, lady," he whispered, "Polaris has a name at last--a name, and he
is an American gentleman, and--" He broke off suddenly and crossed to
the captain.
Scoland sat like a man in a dream.
"Yonder proofs there will show to the world my father's work. No lies
have been told or written, Captain Scoland," said Polaris, speaking
low. "You, too, have stood at the great pole. Your glory is just as
great. You are a brave man. My father would not wish to rob you of that
glory. I do not wish to stain the brightness of your achievement. What
has passed between us is forgotten. You were blinded for a while. I
remember naught but the kindness of your Dr. Clawson. Let us both be
silent about the treatment of the 'wild man.'"
He held out his hand.
For the barest fraction of a second Scoland hesitated. He was not an
entirely bad man. He was a very brave one. He gripped the hand of the
son of the snows.
"And now," he said with an effort, "she's waiting; go to her." He
pointed to Rose Emer.
Around the end of the table came marching Zenas Wright, his old eyes
shining. He came upon a tableau--a girl and a man and a dog, all
wordless, all eyes.
"H-m-m-m, Zenas, you're an old fool!" he muttered. "They have no eyes
for you just now." He turned to stump back to the table, but thought
better of it and came back.
"Lad," he said, "we--the members of this society--wish to examine the
records of your father's discoveries. We may want to ask you some
questions. Will you wait, you and the young woman--in here?"
* * * * *
He marched them to a small, empty room at the side, and almost thrust
them into it. Marcus edged in with them. The door was shut. They were
alone.
Both of them stared out of the window. Minutes passed. Then:
"Lady, how did you find me?"
"One cannot sell three great rubies at the door of a jail, sir, and go
quite unnoticed," she answered, flushing. "My agents were on the watch.
They investigated, and I came on from Boston."
Still she did not look at him. Polaris came a little nearer.
"Why did you tell them all--"
"That you are a hero!" she flashed hotly. "I want all the world to know
it!" She faced him at last.
"And--but--the captain?"
She looked at him.
In a second his arms were around her. For the second time their lips
met. Time flew by unheeded. Marcus looked at them in wonder, and then
curled calmly on a rug and stretched his nose.
Finally:
"But I am only a poor, half-savage--"
"Hush! I love you!"
Presently they heard through the closed door the muffled sound of
shouting. It was the members of the society cheering Stephen Janess.
* * * * *
This is the first of a group of three famous "Polaris" stories. The
next of the trilogy is "Minos of Sardanes."