bids thee love thy neighbor as thyself. And up here, where both nations
work side by side, common hardship makes us truly neighbors, next of
kin. Look yonder!" He pointed to the summit of the watershed, the
ridge-pole of the mountain range, where, sheltered under one roof, were
the Customs offices of two nations, while from lofty flag-poles floated,
side by side, the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes. "The snow, as it
melts, parts into two rivers, one running down into the Dominion, the
other into the States, each bearing greetings from the sister flags.
And, listen! In the tent, to the same tune the two national anthems are
being sung----" Rising, he bared his head, Evelyn standing beside him,
while in perfect attune the banqueters sang, according to their
allegiance: "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," or "God Save the King."
"After all," commented Scarlett, "peace is spelled without a difference,
both sides of the boundary; and, lip to lip, our views will be identical
on the way of spelling love."
"And how may that be?" inquired Evelyn, gathering up her furs and moving
away. "In love-letters?" As Scarlett caught up with her she quickened
her pace, remarking, "I must go now. Really, Sergeant, you ought some
day to give us a lecture on these theories of yours, for I have always
wondered how an Irishman makes love."
"Like a lover, sure," promptly retorted Scarlett, catching her in his
arms and stooping his head to hers.
To her surprise, Evelyn found herself more than half consenting to his
kiss even while trying to rebuke it. Before, however, she had found
breath to protest, Scarlett released her hurriedly in silence, for at
the moment Nick, with his custodian, and followed by his faithful
henchmen, came from the tent, escorting Sarah and the orphans in an aura
of national and personal good will, while a messenger came to inform the
Sergeant that the United States representative, to whom the prisoner's
person was to be delivered, had arrived.
Evelyn, for her part, overcome with an embarrassment mingled with
another feeling that was wholly new to her, ran in the opposite
direction down the trail, and over a patch of frozen snow to a secluded
spot sheltered by a thicket of scrub firs, where, even as she broke from
her lover's embrace, she had seen her former traveling acquaintance and
present correspondent, Horatio Travers, awaiting her.
Scarlett went up immediately to the Customs building, there to transact
the formalities incident to the extradition of Bully Nick. These
concluded, and the official courtesies having been duly proffered and
accepted, he at last felt free to continue his interrupted wooing.
Coming out into the open, he was going to seek Evelyn in a merry group
where the orphans were being taught the art of keeping erect on
snow-shoes, when he was accosted by Maclane.
"Oh, Sergeant! I am called upon to marry a couple under circumstances of
a peculiar nature, involving exceptional haste. There is no Gold
Commissioner, I find, nor Justice of the Peace, in the district, nor
within a day's journey, from whom to obtain a license; but I have
consented to accept a copy of the Dominion Marriage Act, or rather a
specified clause thereof, signed by yourself as Mounted Policeman in
charge. Will that arrangement satisfy you, judicially speaking?"
"Surely," replied Scarlett, "any marriage that you can, with conscience,
solemnize I can sanction without a conscience, sir."
"I never was called upon to perform a duty that I liked so ill," the
minister acknowledged, as he followed the soldier to the Customs
building. "In fact, I have exceeded my prerogative, through my personal
interest in one of the contracting parties, in counseling, beseeching,
delay. Yet what can I do? The young lady is of age; she is determined on
the step; moreover, she has her father's consent, while I have not one
single argument to urge against it, merely a feeling of dislike,
distrust, for the gentleman of her choice."
"In primitive regions I have found it unwise to oppose too many
obstacles to marriages," remarked the soldier, who, by this time, was
busily copying the required clause from a sheepskin-covered tome, "since
there is always a popular tendency to forego the ceremony, if it
involves the slightest trouble. Oh, I'm used to this! Also, I have had
not a few applications for divorces."
"Eh?" exclaimed the minister. "Surely you do not grant them, my young
friend?"
"I have no power to," Scarlett told him. "The best I can do under such
circumstances is to give the applicants a bill of Dissolution of
Partnership, to minimize the squabbling over the division of the outfit.
These present proteges of yours may be my next candidates. There." He
handed Maclane the paper. "Now it is ready for the signatures--yours and
mine. But, first, these blanks must be filled in with the names of bride
and groom."
"They shall write them for themselves," replied the minister, who was
visibly agitated. "Not by a pen stroke will I further them beyond what
is forced upon me." Going to the door he beckoned two persons waiting
without, and to Scarlett's amazement summoned by name, "Horatio Travers!
Evelyn Durant!"
X.
LUCKY'S LUCK.
Cheerful, erect, recreated in body and spirit, Durant came to Gumboot
Annie's hostelry, where he had made an appointment to meet Walter
Pierce. Not seeing the young man, and having his own reasons for not
letting it be known that there was anything of a business nature between
them, he refrained from making inquiries; ordered a cup of coffee, and,
lighting a pipe, seated himself in a sheltered nook outside the tent to
wait.
He had not been there long when the altercation between Dandy Raish and
Gelly interrupted the banquet then in progress, bringing the diners from
the tent, Nick, closely guarded by Barney, in the van.
Gelly, acting on Raish's instructions, had gone speeding down the trail,
but the Dandy still lingered, to keep his secret tryst with Evelyn.
Catching sight of him, the Bully, handcuffed as he was, made a furious
lunge at him. "Thet thar's the snake I've swore ter kill!" he shouted.
"Let me free!"
"No, sorr!" Barney restrained him. "No cheatin' av the extry-edition, if
ye please."
Every one began to talk at once, his followers urging the Bully to
vengeance or forgiveness, according to their natural dispositions, at
present heightened by conviviality, while Raish, fearing lest the former
policy should prevail, held up a hand for truce. "It's all right, Nick.
You don't understand. Stand back, you fellows, can't you, and give me a
word alone with Nick."
"Aye!" acquiesced the Bully. "I don't need help to curse ye, Raish. When
I'm through with him, lads, I'll leave him to you ter skin him fer the
skunk he is, d'ye see?"
"Can't you leave us?" inquired Raish of Barney, who still stood his
ground by Nick.
"No, sorr, I cannot."
"But it's a private matter."
"Bedad, thin, that takes me in all right, since I'm a private meself
till promoted."
"Oh, very well! Only I didn't like to drag in a woman's name before a
third person," explained the Dandy. "What I want to say, Nick, is this:
I'm awfully sorry for all the trouble I've brought on you. It's not
entirely my fault, the way women do pursue a fellow. But never mind all
that," he hastened to add as the Bully began to growl ominously. "I want
you to know that I intend to do the square thing. I'm going to marry
Gelly."
"Eh?" cried Nick, unable to believe his ears. "You'll right my gal!
Honest, Raish?"
"On my honor as a gentleman--that is, if she'll have me. Now, don't get
angry, Nick, till I explain. Something has turned her against me of
late. Suppose you write her a little note, advising her to do it."
"Advisin' her! I'll skin her if she kicks!" threatened Nick. "Here,
boy," he turned to Barney, "get me quit of these bracelets while I write
ter my darter."
"No, sorr, I wull not!"
"I tell ye it's my last words--good-by--to my darter."
"First or last, sure ye can dictate your autography."
"Oh, hang!" ejaculated the Bully.
"Sure, thin, that's for what I'm saving ye!"
"Thar ain't no word profane enough ter describe ye, d'ye see?" Nick told
his keeper. "Here, boys, which one of ye kin write?" he called over to
his followers.
"Don't make her name common with that gang," cautioned the Dandy, whose
alert mind was actively evolving a new piece of villainy as the
situation developed. "Ask an older man; a gentleman."
"You've never done a thing ter her name, hev yer?" inquired the Bully,
wrathfully, yet not wholly rejecting the advice. "Here, Sandy, man, come
write a message for me. You've had schoolin'."
"Ou, aye!" assented the Scotchman, "ower muckle schoolin'. Mon, mon,
when I reflect on a' this sma' head contains! I'll e'en gie ye a
selection fra' Marmion--or a wee bit o' Rabbit Burruns." Being, however,
far gone in conviviality, he maundered off into protestations of undying
affection for his leader, assuring him he'd e'en gie his proper
copposeetion to see him hangit decently.
Disgusted, Nick shoved Sandy aside, and in so doing caught a glimpse of
Durant in his corner, smoking peaceably. "Thar's old man Lucky!" he
exclaimed, even as Raish had foreseen. "Might ask him ter help us out.
Hi, Lucky! Want ter do me a good turn?"
"Willingly." Rising, Durant joined him. "What is it, Nick?"
"Waal, the government thinks so much of me these days I hev to employ a
secretary fer me correspondence, d'ye see? Say, will you write down a
message fer me to my gal?"
"With all the pleasure in the world," assented Durant, heartily.
"Babper an' envelobe, two bits. Ben an' ink, two bits. Plotter, two
bits, bostache-shtamp, two bits!" At Nick's order, Ikey set writing
materials before them on the counter.
"Say, Nick," Raish prompted, in an undertone, while Durant was removing
his snow-spectacles and chafing his stiff fingers, "best not enter into
details. Best let bygones be bygones. Best just say you want your
daughter to let me bring her as my wife to pay you a visit during your
enforced captivity--perhaps to say good-by."
"You let me choose my own words, and be damned to yer."
"Oh, very well! Only I don't see why you should be in a hurry to shame
me and Gelly before an outsider."
"My gal has shamed herself, and thar ain't no shamin' you!" Nick,
however, acted on the advice. "Ready, Lucky? Say, I don't know how to
start it. I kin jaw her fluent ter her face, but I never wrote her
afore." He hesitated, embarrassed.
Smiling reassuringly, Durant pointed to the words he already had
mechanically set down. "My dear daughter--that's how I begin to my own
girl."
"Darter don't look as if it was spelled right," criticized the Bully.
"But you know best, Lucky. Fire away! Make it affectionate, but firm,
d'ye see? Tell her I'll cuss her in this life and skin her in the next
ef she don't let Raish bring her ter me as his wife ter say good-by. No
trimmin's, mind! Blow the signiture! She'll know fast enough it comes
from me."
"Your loving dad," Durant concluded. "That's how I end off when I'm
writing to Evelyn."
"Pop ud 'a' sounded more nateral," remarked the Bully. "But mebbe dad is
dockimentary. So let her go."
"Add a postscript," in a hurried whisper Raish enjoined Durant. "Tell
her this is just a matter of form, and that I promise on my honor not to
hold her to the arrangement permanently, if it is distasteful to her.
Tell her----"
Durant looked up, surprised. "Surely all that lies wholly between you
and the young woman."
"True," admitted Raish, "but as I don't mind confiding in you that the
young woman is tired of me, I want her to feel secure that in satisfying
her father's scruples I don't intend to take an unfair advantage of
her. Suppose I set that down myself." He did so, writing rapidly, but
clearly. "Now, Mr. Durant," he handed the other the pen, "you will add
to your kindness to me more than you dream by placing your signature as
witness to my pledge."
Durant did as he was asked, feeling that, little as he understood the
matter, he was probably serving the best interests of the unfortunate
Gelly.
"As witness only," he, however, stated. "It is an arrangement in which I
take no moral responsibility."
"Thanks. I understand your scruples and respect them. The responsibility
is mine entirely. Just at present I cannot explain, but later the whole
position will be made clear."
"What's all them goin's-on?" suddenly demanded Nick, whose attention had
been momentarily distracted by an argument between Mops and Sandy on the
poetic merits of Rabbit Burruns. "No monkeyin' with dockiments over
thar."
"I'm only directing it," explained the Dandy, who had folded the letter
and inclosed it in an envelope.
Nick looked over his shoulder, breathing heavily with interest. "By
gum," he ejaculated, wrathfully, "ef ye hevn't blotted my gal's name,
Raish, and not fer the fust time!"
[Illustration: "DARTER DON'T LOOK AS IF IT WAS SPELLED RIGHT,"
CRITICIZED BULLY.]
"Oh, I'll make that all right!" The Dandy put the letter in his breast
and walked away.
"Ef yer don't may yer sizzle!" Nick called after him. Turning to Durant:
"Pard, I'm grateful," he declared, with feeling. "Pard, the best wish I
kin give ye is, may ye never need no one ter do the same by you."
"Thanks, Nick. That's all right." Durant looked about him, and seeing
that Raish was out of earshot and Blenksoe not in sight, went closer to
the Bully and his followers. "Friends, there's something I want to say
to you," he began. "It's just this: You've all done me a kindness to my
dying day I shan't forget. A fortnight ago, when my girl came into camp
expecting to find me living in a diamond-encrusted palace, and I stood
there so forlorn she didn't recognize me, a broken-hearted beggar, you
who by one word might have pricked the bubble and humiliated me before
her and her before the world, by your silence protected her and me. It
was the noblest thing----" His voice broke; he wiped his eyes.
"Thet's all right, Lucky! Brace up, old man!" came from one and another
of the group.
"Aye, but now I want you all to hear my good news!" cried Durant,
detaining them as they were preparing to go back into the dining-tent to
resume their interrupted feast. "_It has all come true!_ With so many
grafters and claim-jumpers round I daren't be explicit, but I want you
to know that my luck has turned for good and all. Oh, this time it's no
pocket; it's the big strike of which I've always dreamed. I don't
deserve it, some may think, after playing with my girl's credulity, yet
for her sake I thank God with all my heart that I've won out! Till it's
staked and recorded I know you'll all keep my secret--but, boys, every
one of you is in it, the Rainbow Mine!"
The same wonderful delicacy that had marked their treatment of Evelyn
did not fail her father. The Bully and his gang listened to this speech
in respectful silence, at its conclusion crying, "Great! Good for you,
old man! You done grand! Allus knew you'd git thar fer keeps! Sure!
Betcherlife! That's what!" with every evidence of conviction and
spontaneous joy. But as he walked off, Durant laughed. He did not need
to look back to know that fingers were being pointed after him, winks
interchanged and foreheads tapped significantly, with comment that
found food for mirth, even while it deplored: "Off his nut fer fair.
Balmy on the crumpet. Bats in his belfry. Qualifying for Queer Street.
Plumb crazy. Poor old Lucky!"
Well, let them think so, bless them, since another day would set them
right and prove him all he claimed to be. And then nothing gold could
procure would be too good for them, nothing--this rough crew, more beast
than man, that had yet behaved like more than man to his deceived,
defenceless girl.
That hour--its memory was seared upon his very soul--the hour of
Evelyn's arrival in camp that had witnessed the deepest degradation,
followed immediately by the crowning justification and triumph of his
career. He visualized it now, as he walked: In the Klondike Delmonico's,
in her role of Lady Bountiful, Evelyn was dispensing hospitality right
and left. He alone, her father, dared not enter in. Crushed, crazed, he
walked back to the spot where he had left young Pierce. Him he found
still brooding beneath the huge pine, dazed, amid the ruin of his own
air castles. Then for one bad moment Durant went really mad. Picking up
the gun he had dropped when an irresistible force drew him to go watch
the incoming stage, he turned its deadly charge against his fevered
brain.
With a cry, Walter sprang forward, but not before old Blenksoe, who had
been watching his associate's actions curiously, seized him, capturing
the gun. "No yer don't, blast yer!"
"Give it to me, Blenksoe! Of what use is my life to you?"
"Lucky you've been afore, and lucky you may be yet, and when the luck
turns I'm in it, see?"
"Give it to me!" With a madman's fury, Durant leaped at the other's
throat, only to be met by a blow that sent him reeling to the ground
with such force that a young willow bush he clutched at was partially
uprooted. For a few seconds he lay prone, foaming at the mouth and
clawing the soil with frenzied impotency. Then of a sudden he paused,
raised himself, face still downturned, and burst into insane laughter
that made Pierce's blood run cold.
"Mad! Stark, starin' mad!" Blenksoe turned on his heel.
"There's a squirrel on yonder tree I could bring down for the dogs'
supper if you'd give me back my gun, Blenksoe," his laughter spent,
Durant meekly suggested as he scrambled to a sitting posture.
"Fetch her with a stun," was the succinct reply, as, retaining his
partner's weapon, Blenksoe re-entered the tent.
Acting on the suggestion, Durant gathered up a handful of clots,
selecting them carefully, and with deliberate aim took long shots at the
chattering creature on the bough.
"Sit here, beside me, close, Walter," in an undertone he bade the young
clerk, who still was gazing at him in horrified bewilderment. "But don't
start or show the slightest surprise at what I am going to say. Oh, tut,
tut, lad, never fear!" For Pierce seemed disinclined to comply with his
command. "I am not mad. That is all over, thank God! with all the
struggle, the heartbreak. _The luck has turned_, do you hear? Yes,
turned for good and all! Every clot that I am throwing contains
gold!--careful!" For involuntarily Walter had given vent to an
ejaculation of amazed incredulity. "Oh, I'm an old prospector, and I see
indications, and read signs where these grafters pass them by. I've
always believed in this locality, and now I'm justified. In uprooting
that willow I unearthed a bonanza!" Pausing in his speech, he renewed
his attempts on the squirrel's life, and then went on: "Yes, each dull
handful of earth I throw is a priceless witness that beneath us, on
this spot, lies the Rainbow Mine----" Breaking off, as he observed old
Blenksoe watching him narrowly, he rose as if discouraged, with a sigh.
"My hand shakes. I'm no match to-day even for a squirrel. I'll have to
give it up." Then, cleverly simulating the foolishly detailed actions of
one who, having lost his grasp on the great things of life, clutches at
the trivialities, he set about replanting the willow, stamping down the
disordered earth about its roots, meanwhile in a pregnant undertone
continuing his conversation with Walter.
The latter, so between them it was arranged, was to hang about the
locality, watching for a chance, unobserved, to pick up the valuable
clots, and these he was to have exchanged for their cash value, for
current expenses, at a bank so distant that their source could not be
predicated with any degree of accuracy--a precaution that Durant deemed
essential in a district where even officialdom was likely to be
corrupted by the lust for gold. He himself, meanwhile, would watch his
opportunity, and disappear, without leaving a trace, from Lost Shoe
Creek, as if madness had indeed possessed him, in order to throw
Blenksoe off the scent and cause him also to move on, since, as Durant
rightly conjectured, the pastmaster of graft would not be likely to
remain in any spot which he thought Lucky had turned down. To-day Walter
was to meet him here, return with him to the scene of his discovery, aid
him in staking it, by stealth; journey to the nearest office where
recording-books were opened, to file the claim with the necessary fee,
while Durant himself would remain, defending the stakes, if need be,
with his life. Once his rights legally safeguarded, all the world might
know. Again Durant laughed in joyful anticipation of his meeting with
Evelyn, when confession and revelation would come in the same breath.
Then, impatiently, he looked up and down the trail, wondering at
Pierce's delay on this day of days, when he heard a low moan among the
bushes, and, turning, beheld the young man on whose co-operation such
high hopes depended, lying, bedded in furs, upon a sled, swathed in
bandages, pallid--a dying man.
"My God! Walter, my poor lad, what does this mean?" exclaimed Durant, in
horrified accents.
Another moan was the only answer, but reading in the glazing eyes a wish
to speak, Durant knelt down and bent so that his ear touched the stiff
lips.
"What is it, Walter?"
"The samples," the young man at last managed to articulate. "The
mine----"
"Aye, the mine--the samples!" cried Durant, with frantic eagerness. But
Walter's confession never reached the man he had betrayed. A sudden
darkness came over Durant. He struggled, but his grasp was pinioned from
behind. He tried to cry aloud, but his voice was muffled. Swift,
treacherous hands seized him, gagged him, bound him fast, bore him off,
blind, mute, a prisoner!
XI
AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE
With an effort regaining the composure unwontedly ruffled by Scarlett's
audacious response to her challenge as to an Irishman's method of
love-making, while adjusting hat and hair, whose order, as she
blushingly was conscious, had suffered from the same cause, Evelyn
hurried toward the fir-encircled spot where she saw Dandy Raish awaiting
her.
A fellow-passenger aboard the boat that had brought her party up the
Alaskan coast, Travers had lost no chance to ingratiate himself with
Evelyn by rendering her all manner of unobtrusive service, so that his
letter, requesting this appointment, at an out-of-the-way place under
conditions of absolute secrecy, while exciting her curiosity, caused her
no alarm. The matter to which he had mysteriously alluded, as of supreme
importance to herself and her father, she had assumed to refer to
Durant's vast mining interests. She took it for granted that the
obliging Mr. Travers was bearer of a remittance that would enable her to
defy Scarlett's absurd advice in favor of roughing it, and enable her to
resume her wonted style of luxurious living.
To escape awkward questions, she had decided to turn the expedition into
a day's outing that should include Sarah and her young companions, thus
giving her meeting with Travers the appearance of chance. Scarlett's
unforeseen presence on the scene only added a piquancy to the occasion,
in her eyes, since she thought it might furnish her with an opportunity
to put down that estimable but altogether too masterful young man. That
the opportunity would land her in the young man's arms was something she
had not reckoned with.
As Travers watched her speeding toward him with glowing cheeks and eyes,
a lovely picture of blossoming young womanhood between the wintry ground
and summer sky, something leaped to life in the Dandy's breast that made
it a hard task for him to greet her with the grave impersonal politeness
it was his policy to assume, and determined him more than ever to cut
out "that blasted Scarlett."
After formal salutations had been exchanged, he remarked: "I think I
saw you speaking with some one in uniform, Miss Durant. I trust it was
not a member of the Mounted Police?"
"It was Sergeant Scarlett."
"Good heavens! Scarlett, of all men! May I hope you did not mention our
appointment to him?"
"My appointments are my own affair, Mr. Travers. Please let us get to
the matter in hand without delay. What is it you have to say to me?"
"I am more anxious than you possibly can be for haste, since to you the
matter is but one of temporary inconvenience, while to carry it through
I am risking my very life. But before we go any further I must have your
sacred promise that what I say is in inviolable confidence."
"Confidences between you and me, Mr. Travers! Aren't you making too much
of what is probably some ordinary business matter; taking rather an
undue advantage of my complaisance in granting you this interview?"
"Miss Durant, you wrong me. I tell you that in seeking you I have
nothing to gain, everything to lose; life, honor, everything! I am
running this tremendous risk--not, as you think, because you are a
woman, young, rich, beautiful; but because I owe a debt of gratitude,
that only life could pay, to your dear father."