The Wingham Times, 1916-06-15, Page 7June I5th, 19f6
THE WINGHAM TIMES
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reikviowlgi
Igsr
the
HONOR of THE BIG SNOWS
By JAMES OLIVER, CVRWOOD
Copyright 1911 by the Bobbs-Morrill Co.
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It was still night when he broke his
.rest and struggled on. His first fears
were gone. In place of them there
,filled him now a grim sort of pleasure.
A second time he was battling with
death for Melisse. And this, after all,
was not a very hard fight for him.
When he ate the last bit of his bacon
he 'nude up his mind what he would
.do -when the end came. In the stock
.of his rifle he would scratch a few
last words to Melisse. He even ar-
ranged the words in his brain—four of
them—"Melisse,• I love you." He re-
peated them to himself as he stagger-
ed on, and that night beside the fire
he built he began by carving her name.
"Tomorrow," he said softly, "I will
-ilo the rest"
He was growing very hungry, but he
-did not touch the flour. For six hours
he slept and then drank his fill of hot
:tea.
"We will travel until day, Jan Tho-
reau," he informed himself, "and then,
If nothing turns up, we will build our
Nast camp and eat the flour. It will bo
the last of us, for there will be no
,meat above this snow for days."
His snowshoes were an impediment
:now, and he left them behind along
with one of his two blankets, which
, :had grown to be like lead upon his
shoulders. He counted his cartridges
-ten of them. One of these he tired
,into the air.
Was that an echo he beard?
.A. sudden thrill shot through him.
'He strained his ears to catch a repeti-
tion of the sound. In a moment it
came again—clearly no echo this time.
The shot came from just over the
:mountain.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Rescue.
AIST deep in the light snow.
Jan began the ascent, drag-
ging himself up by the tops
of the slender en plings, stop-
ping every few yards to half stretch
,himself out in the soft mass through
`which he was struggling, panting with
exhaustion. He shouted when hegain-
sed the top of the ridge. Up through
;:the white blur of snow on the other
•side there came to him faintly a shout;
:yet, in spite of its faintness, Jan knew
that it was very near.
"Something has happened to Ledoq,"
the told himself,' "but he surely has
food, and we can live It out until the
-storm is over."
It was easier going down the ridge,
:and he went quickly in the direction
from which the voice had come, until a
mass of huge bowiders loomed up be -
'fore him. There was a faint odor of
•smoke in the air, and he followed it ba
-among the rocks, where it grow.
!stronger.
•
"Ho. Ledoq!" he shouted. .
A voice replied a dozen yards away.
lllowly, as he advanced, he made out
the dim shadow of life in the white
ggloom—a bit of smoke climbing weak-
ly in the storm, the black opening of
se brush shelter -and then, betwee n the
opening and the spiral of smoke, a liv-
• ing thing that came creeping toward
:,bim on all fours, like an animal.
He plunged toward it and the shad-
ow staggered upward and, would have
Mallen had it not been for the support
of the deep snow. Another step, and
a sharp Cry fell from Jan's lips. It was
not Ledoq, but DiAon, who stood there.
• with white, starved face and staring
,eyes in the snow gloom!
"My' God. 1; am starving—and dying
'fora drink of water!" gasped the Eng-
lishman chokingly, thrusting out his
,firms. "Thoreau, God be: praiser-
He staggered and fell in tai's snow.
Ian draggm bacie to;tde shelter.
--Ilk '1 will' `have' water for yon—and
•',-eowethi tO..t!at-leery soon." ha ORM
Had Weak Back
and Kidneys.
COULD HARDLY MOVE 04, *ED.
When the back becomes weak and
,rstarts to ache and, pain it is a sure sipIt
that the kidneys are -not performing their`
functions prdperly.
On the first, sign of, backache Doan's
Kidney Pills should be taken and serious
kidney troubles prevented.
Mr. Francis Melnncs, Woodbine, N.S.,
Writes: "I deem it my duty to let you
know the wonderful results I have ,re-;
eeived frainthe use of Doan's kidney'
Pills. For a long time I had been suf-
fering from weak back arid kidttey's. i.
used to suffer the most at night, andd'some
tunes could hardly move in,bcd with the
pain. I could .;dc, Ito .hard labor,
account of my b5k, A, friend ;i cly e
the to give Doan's Kidney Pills a trial,
and I am glad I \dic1 'dor the paiir lft my
kidneys is gone; innsb rs',strong. and
I''can • "
•perltetY�►i°"nnq"�h�d`'lalior and get
ray' good night's sleep. I only used three
boxed' of the,pills."
Dean's KitIriey" Villa are 56 cents per
box, or 3 boxes for $1.25; at all dealers, or
mailed direct on receipt of trice by The
'I. \1iibure r` t i..litre, t1' .
WLcLLI,.u.... u.ls .. ... "
His VoTie itaiiiided unre-fie `vac
a mistiness before his eyes which was
net caused by the storm. He suspend-
ed
uspended his two small pails over the em-
bers, which he coaxed into a blaze.
M`.
sse
Another Step and • Sharp Cry Fell
From Jan's Lipa. It Was Not Ledoq,
but Dixon.
Both he filled with snow. Into one
he emptied the handful of flour that he
had carried in his pocket, into the other
he put tea. Fifteen minutes later he
carried them to the• B',>iglishman.
Dixon sat up, a glazed passion fill-
ing his eyes. He drank the hot tea
greedily atefled
greedily an as the
BT y ¢
flour pudding. Jan watched him hun-
grily until the last crumb of it was
gone, He refilled the pails with snow.
added more tea and then rejoined: the
Englishman. New life was alraady
shining in Dixon's eyes.
"Not" a moment too soon, Thoreau,"
he said thankfully; reaching over to
grip the other's hand., "Another night
and"— Suddenly he, stopped. "Great
Heaven! What is the matter?'
He noticed for the first time the
pinched torture in his companion's
face. Jan's head dropped weakly,
upon bis breast His hands were icy,
cold.
"Nothing," he murmured drowsily,
"only I'm starving, too, Dixonl" He
rolled over upon the balsam boughs
with a restful sigh. "Let me sleep."
Dixon went to the pack. One by
one, la his search for food•: lie took out
the few articles that it contained.
After that, he drank more tea, crawled
back into the balsam shelter and lay
down beside Jan. It wed. broad day
when he awoke, and he called hoarse-
ly to his companion when he saw that
the snow had ceasod failing.
Jan did not stir. For a moment
Dixon leaned over to. paten. to his
breathing and then dragged- himself
*lowly and painfully out into the day.
The fire was out. A leaden blackness
still filled the sky; deep,• silent gloom
hung In the wake of the storm,
Suddenly there came to Dixon's ears
a sound. Just beyond the hanging
pails a moosebird hopped out upon
the •now. Slowly Dixon forced; hie
eight: foot through the Snow to` the
• rear of, his: left and Sit cautiously
brought bis, lei`!, behind his right,
'working himself backward step by
step until he reached the shelter. 'lust
inside was his ride. He drew it out
lead hank, upon hl,F .unsex in the :snow
to aim. At the repont�of the rifle; Jan
stirred, bat did not open his eyes.. He
mnde tio,inoveme it when Dixon called
Cut in: lel-diet he had killed
'meat. He heard, he throve to arouse,
almself, but something more powerful,
than hid. own will seemed pulling flim
down, into oblivion. It seemed an
eternity, before,ho, was conscious of a
'roice•again., > e„ fed; himself lifted
and opened his eyes, with his head
resting against the Englishman's shout•
der.
"Drink this, Thoreau," be heard.
$e drank and. icgeli! Drat, if was not
tea that ran down his throat.
".Wpfp1 g jack soup." he heard again.
"So* *It?"
He became wide awake. Dixon was
O feeln '' b m a,.'dosen small bili§: of
'elect colo, a:,tin, gt'ste end he ate ,v4th,
OUt questioning. Suddenly, when there
were otily two or three,of the smallest
scraps left be •altopp*&
"it was whisky jack!" be crledy "1
bave situp it.: ell!".
The young iL'ngtlnbm in°s White taco
ginned at bim.
"I've got the done inside of ins,
Thoreau. You've got the moose bird,
Isn't that fair?"
The plate dropped between them,
Over it their hands met in agrea
clutching grip, and up from Jan's
heart there welled words which almost
burst from his lips in voice, words
which rang in bis brain and which
were an unspoken prayer—"Melisse, I
thank the great God that it is this man
whom you love!" But It was 1n silence
that he staggered to his feet and went
out into the gloom.
"This may be only a lull in the
storm," he said. "We must lose no
time. How long did you travel before
you made this camp?"
"About teo hours," said Dixon. "1
made due west by compass until 1
knew that 1 had passed Lac Bain and
then struck north."
"Ah, you have the compass!" cried
Jan, his eyes lighting up. "M'seur
Dixon, we are very near to the post 11
you camped so soon! Tell me which is
north."
"That is north."
"Then we go south—south and east
if you traveled ten hours, first west
and then north, we are northwest of
Lac Bain."
Jan spoke no more, but got his rifle
from the shelter and put only the ten
. and two pails In his pack, leaving the
remaining blanket upon the snow. The
Englishman followed close behind him,
bending weakly under the weight of
his gun.
Tediously they struggled to the top
of the ridge, and as Jan stopfled to
look through the gray day about him
Dixon sank down into the snow. When
the other turned toward bim he grinned
up feebly into his face.
"Bushed." be gasped. "Don't be-
lieve I can make it through this snow,
Thoreau."
There was no fear in his eyes, there
was even a cheerful ring In his voice.
A sudden glow leaped into Jan's face.
"I know this ridge," he exclaimed,
"It runs within a mile of Lac Bain.
You'd better leave your rifle behind."
Dixon made an effort to rise, and
Jan helped him. The wenton slow-
ly,
y sow-
ly, resting every few hundred yards,
and each time that be rose from these
periods of rest Dixon's face was twist-
ed with pain.
"It's the flour and water ancbored
amidships," be smiled grimly."Cramps
—tight I wish you'd go on alone," be
urged. "You could send help"—
"I promised Melisse that I would
bring you back it I found yon," re-
plied Jan, his face turned away. "If
the storm broke again you would be
lost."
"Tell me—tell me"— he beard Dixon
pant eagerly, "did • she send yon to
hunt for me, Thoreau?'
Something in. the Englishman's voice
drew his eyes to bim.' There was an
• excited flush in bis starved cheeks;
bis eyes shone.
"pin .she: send you?"
Jau struggled bard to speak calmly.
"Not in words, M'seur Dixon. But
I know that if I get you safely back
to Iutc Bain she will be very happy."
Something came In Dixon's sobbing
breath which Jan did not bear. A
little later be stopped and built a fire.
oyer, which he. melted more snow and
boiled tea. The drink stimulated•them
and they went on. A little later still
and' Jan hung his nide in the crotch
of n sapling.
"We, will return; for the gone In a
day,'or so,' he said.
Dixon leaned upon bim more heavily
now, and the distances they traveled
between, resting periods became abett-
er and shorter. Thre,a• timet,, they
stopped to build flres and cook tea. It
was night when they descended from
the• ridge to, the snow, covered • Ice of,
Lac Bala. It eras past inldnlgbt when
Jan dragged Dian from the spruce
forest into the opening at the pest
Thero were no lights burning, and be.
went with bis halt conscious burden
to the company's store. 13e awakened
Croisset, who let them in.
• "Take care of Dixon," said - Jan, "and
49,11'tarouse,atly ofp the.reeePl i, ttl�hlg�it..
It' will` be time enough to tell what
has happened in the morning"
Over the, stove in hie own room he
cooked Meat and coffee; and•for a foie
time satsilent before the lira, Rebid
babe*t back Dixon.. in the morning
?dill/tee would know. First she would
go', to the Englishman, then—then—
sbe,would come tQ hula.
e rose apd ,went to the rude *beard
table in the corner of; bias room..
"No, Melisse must. not come to me In
the,morning," he whispered to himself.
"#pn Inuit never°again bolt neon Jan
Therean."
Fie took pencil and, paper and,wrote.
rage after'ba¢e lie crumpled', in ides
htiiiit and flung into the'drd: At hat,
Swiftly andAlespalringly, he endedwltlb
half a,dozen lines. Whsthe saiq came
from hlsc heart it} French:
Melisse; and, pray
I hales brdtikbt' him 'tiae'k to' yen,
thtit the eoe4s dei mi,
sive you happiness. 1 leave you the of
violin, and always whea you play it will
ten you of the love of Jan Thoreau.
,He folded the page and seated 1/ ID
COULD NOT SLEEP
Nerves Were So Bad.
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Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills offer
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Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are
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Toronto, Ont.
one of the company's envelopes. very
quietly he went from his room down
Into the deserted store. Without strik-
ing u light, ne found a new pack, a few
articles of food and ammunition. The
envelope addressed to Melisse be left
where Croisset or the tactor would
find it In the morning. His dogs were
housed in a shack behind the store, and
he called out their names softly and
warningly as he went among them. As
stealthily as their master they trailed
behind bim to the edge of the forests
and close under the old spruce that
guarded the grave Jan stopped and
silently he stretched out his arms to
the Tittle cabin.
The dugs watched him. Kazan, the
one eyed leader, glared from him into
the dimness of the night. whining soft-
ly. A low, mourning wind swept
through the spruce tops, and trom Jan's
throat there burst sobbingly words
Which Ile had heard beside this same
grave more than seventeen years be -
tore when Williams' choking voice had
risen in a last prayer for the woman.
"May the great God care for Me-
lissel"
He turned Into the trail upon which
Jean de Gravois had fought the Eng-
lishman, led his dogs and sledge in a
twisting path through the caribou
swamp and stood at last beside the
lob stick tree that leaned out over the
edge of the white Barrens. With his
knife he dug out the papers which he
r had concealed in that whisky jack hole.
It was near dawn when he recovered
the rifle which he had abandoned on
the mountain top. A little later it be-
gan to snow. He was glad, for it would
concealhis trail.
s ai .
t
For thirteen days be forced bis dogs
through the deep snows foto the south.
On the fourteenth they came to Le
Pas, which is the edge of civilization.
It was night when he came out of the
forest, so that be could see the faint
glow of lights beyond the Saskatche-
wan.
For a few moments, before crossing,
he stopped his tired dogs and turned
hisface back into the grim desolation
of the north, where the aurora was
playing feebly In the skies and beckon-
ing to him and telling him that the old
life of centuries • and centuries ago
would wait for bim always at the dome
of the earth.
"The good God bless you and keep
you and care for you ever more, my
Melisse," be whispered. And he walk-
ed slowly ahead of his dogs across the
river and into the other world.
• • • • . * •
There was music that night in Le
Pas. A door opened and a man and a
woman came out The man was curs -
Ing, and the woman was laughing at
him—laughing as Jan had never beard
a woman laugh before, and be held his
breath as he listened to the taunting
mockery in it Kazan, the one eyed
leader, Snarled. The trace bogs slunk
close to the leader's heels. With a
low word Jan Ied them on.
Close down to the river, where the
Saskatche-'zyan itwuj g .in a ball moms
The Army of
Constipation
Is Growing $sash., Ittvory Day.
CARTER% LITTLE
LIVER PILLS us
teapepabli—they net
sole give relief --
they permanently
tuteConstipa.
MIX. Mil-
lions use
thein for
Bile.
Neap, lniiintirp, Skk Ileediteia, Was Skits.
Small Pill, Scull Dose, Small Price.
Genuine mit wog Signature
to the south and west, be round a low,
squat building with a light hung over
the door illuminating a bit of humor
In the form of a printed legend which
said that it was "King Edward's ho-
tel." The scrub bush of the forest
grew within a hundred yards of it,
and in this bush Jan tied his dogs and
left bis sledge. It did not occur to
him that now, when be had .entered
civilization, be had come also into the
land of lock and bolt, of robbers and
thieves. It was loneliness and not sus-
picion that sent him back to unleash
Kazan and take bim with him.
They entered the hotel, Kazan with
suspicious caution. The door opened
into a big room lighted by an oil lamp
turned low. The room was empty ex-
cept for a solitary figure sitting in a
chair facing a wide window which
looked into the north. Making no
sound that be might not disturb this
other occupant, Jan also seated him-
self before the window. Kazan laid
his wolfish bead across his master's
knees, bis one eye upon bim steadily
and questioningly. Never in all his
years of life bad Jan felt the depth of
loneliness thatsweptupon now
P shim
as he looked into the north. He did
not know that be was surrendering to
hunger and exhaustion, the cumulative
effects of his thirteen days' fight in the
forests. It was the low, heartbroken
sob of grief that fell from bis own lips
that awakened him again to a con-
sciousness of the present.
He jerked himself erect and found
Kazan with his fangs gleaming. The
stranger bad risen. He was standing
A
'�ball.�o9
The Stranger Had Risen.
close to him, leaning down, staring at
him in the dim lamplight, and as Jan
lifted his own eyes be knew that in
the pale, eager face of the man above
him there was written a grief which
might have been a reflection of his
own. Something reached out to Jan
and set his tired blood tingling. He
knew that this man was not a forest
man. He was not of his people. His
face bore the stump of the people to the
south, of civilization. And yet some-
thing passed between them, leaped all
barriers and made them friends before
they had spoken. The stranger reach-
ed down his band, and Jan reached up
his. All of the loneliness, the clinging.
to hope, the starving desire of two men
for companionship, passed in the long
grip of their hands.
"You have iust come down," said
the man hair questioningly. "That
was your sledge out there?"
"Yes," said Jan.
The stranger sat down in the chair
next to Jan.
"From the camps?" he questioned
eagerly.
"What camps, m'sleur?"
"The railroad camps, where they are
putting the new line through, beyond
Wekusko."
"I know of no camps," said Jan sim-
ply. "I know of no railroad except
this that comes to Le Pas. I come
from Lac Bain, on the edge of the Bar.
ren lands."
"You have never been down before?'
asked the stranger softly. Jan won-
dered at the light in his eyes.
"A long time ago," he said, "for a
day. I have passed all of my life up
there." Jan pointed to the north, and
the other's eyes turned to where the
polar star was fading low in the sky.
"And I have passed all of my life
down there," he replied, nodding his
head to the south. "A, year ago I came
up here for—for health and happiness."
He laughed nervously. "I found them
both, but I'm leaving them. I'm going
back tomorrow. My name is Thorn-
ton," he added, bolding out his hand
again. "I come from Chicago."
"Illy name is Thoreau—Jan Thoreau,"
said Jan. "I have read of Chicago in a
book and have seen pictures of it. Is it
larger than the city that Is called Win-
nipeg?'
He looked at Thornton, and Thorn-
ton turned' his head a little so that
the light did not shine in his face, The
grip of his fingers tightened about Jan's'
hand.
"Yes, it is larger."
The officers of the great company.,
are at Winnipeg and the commissioner,
are they not, m'sieur'a"
"Of the Hudson's Bay company—
yes."
"And if there was business to do-+
important business, m'sienr, would it
sot bo best to go to the commiestonerTt
questioned Jan.
Thornton looked hard at the tense
eagerness to Jan's face.
;'There Are nearer .b.I quartet!—at
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IR
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,ca A16ert,-r he said.
"That is not far," exclaimed Jan, ris-
ing. "And they would do business
there—important business?" He drop-
ped his band to Kazan's head and half
turned toward the door.
"Perhaps better than the commis-
sioner," replied Thornton. "It might
depend on what your business is."
To them, as each stood for a mo-
ment in silence, there came the low
wailing of a dog out in the night
"They are calling for Kazan," said
Jan quietly, as though he had not read
the question in Tbornton's last words.
"Good night, m'sieuri"
CHAPTER XIV.
Temptation.
THE dogs were sitting upon their
haunches waiting when Jan
and Kazan wentback to them.
Over a fire Jan hung his cof-
fee
offee pail and a big chunk of frozen cari-
bou
arrbou meat and tossed frozen fish to the •
hungry dogs.
With his sickness, his deathly feel-
ing of loneliness and heartache, there
bad entered into Jan now a strange
sensation that was almost excitement
—an eagerness to fasten the dogs in
their traces, to hurry on in spite of his
exhaustion to that place which Thorn•
ton had told him of—Prince Albert—
and to free himself there for all time `
of the thing which bad oppressed him
since that night many years ago when
be had staggered into Lac Bain to play
his violin as Cummins' wife died. He
reached inside his skin coat, and there
he felt papers which he had taken
from the hole in the lob stick tree.
They were safe. For twenty years he
had guarded them. Tomorrow he
would take them to the great company
at Prince Albert And after that—aft-
er he bad done this thing, what would
there remain in life for Jan Thoreau?
Perhaps the company might take him,
and be would remain in civilization.
That would be best—for him. He
would tight against the call of his for-
ests as years and years ago he had
fought against that call of the other
world that had filled him with unrest
for a time. He had killed that. If he
did return to his forest he would go fat
to the west or far to the east. Na.
one that bad ever known bim would
hear again of Jan Thoreau.
Kazan bad crept to his blanket, dar-
ing to encroach upon it inch by inch
until his great wolf head lay upon
Jan's arm. It was, ten years ago that.
Jan had taken Kazan, a little half
blind puppy that he and Mellsse had
chosen from a litter of half a dozen
stronger brothers and sister:. Kazan
was all that was left to him now. He
loved the other dogs, but they were
not like Kazan. He tightened his arm
About the dog's head. Exhaustion
and the warmth of the fire made him
drowsy, and after a time be slept,
with bis head thrown back against the
tree.
Something awoke him hours after-
ward. He opened his eyes and found
that the fire was still beeniog bright-
ly. On' the far side of It beyond the
dog sat Thornton. A look at the sky,
where the stars were dying, and Jan
knew that it was just before the gray
break of dawn. He sat upright
Thornton laughed softly at. him and
puffed out clouds of smoke from his
Wipe.
"Yon were freezing," he said as Jan
stared, "and sleeping like a dead man
I waited for you back there and then
hunted you up. You know, T tliodght"—
He hesitated and knocked the Ash
Min his pipe bowl. Thea he Ioolted
frankly and squarely. at, Jan,: {'See
here, old man, it you're hard up—bad
trouble of any sort --bad luck—got no
money—won't you let aIle help you
Intl"
"Thank you, m'sleur; I have money,
said Jan. "I prefer' to sleep outside
with the dogs. I guess I would have
been stili with the frost if you had
not come. You have been here all
night?"
Thornton nodded.
"And it is morning!" exclaimed Jan,
rising and looking above the 'spruce
tops. "You are kind. m'sleur. I wish
1 might do as much for you."
"You can," said Thornton quietly.
"Where are you going from here?"
"To the company's offices at Prince
Albert We will start within an hour."
"Will you. take me with you?"
Thornton asked.
"With pleasure!" cried Jan. "But It
will be a hard journey, m'sieur. I
must hurry, and you may not be ac-
customed behind thes."
customed to running bo d$
Thornton rose and stretched out a
hand.
"It can't be too hard for me," be
said. "1 wish"—
He stopped, and something in his lows
voice made Jan look straight into hie
eyes. Then he turned to his pack
upon the sledge.
"I've got meat and coffee and hard
biscuits," he said. "Will you have
breakfast with mei"
It was early afternoon of the fourtllf
day later when Jan and Thornton
reached Prince Albert.
"We will go to the offices of the great
company," said Jan. "We will lose no
time."
It was Thornton now who guided!
bim to the century old building at the
west edge of the town. It was Thorn-
ton who led him into an office filled
mostly with young women, who were
laboring at clicking machines, and it
was Thornton who presented a square
bit of white card to a gray haired man:
at a desk, who, after reading it, rose
from bis chair, bowed and shook hands
with him. And a few moments later
a door opened, and Jan Thoreau alone
passed through it, bis heart quivering,
his breath choking him, bis hand
clutching at the papers in his breast
pocket.
Outside Thornton waited. An hour
passed and still the door did not re-
open. The man at the desk glanced'
curiously at Thornton. Two girls at
typewriters exchanged whispered opin-
ions as to who might be this wild look..
lag creature from the north who watt
taking up an hour of the subcommis-
sioner's time. Nearly two hours pass -
sed before Jan appeared. Thornton,
still patient, rose as the door opened.
His eyes first encountered the staring -
face of the subcommissioner. Them
Jan came out. He had aged five years'
in two hours., There etas a tired sterile
to his shoulders, a strange pallor in his:
cheeks. To Thornton his thin fhee
seemed to have grown thinner. Witbt
bowed head, looking nowhere butt
ahead of him, Jan passed on, and as•
the last doer opened to lei them out
into the pale winter sun Thornton:
beard the muffled sobbing of hist
breath, His fingers gripped Jan's arm.
His eyes were blazing.
"If you'ro getting the wrong end of
anything up there," be cried fiercely;
"if you're in trouble, and they're -tak-
ing the bleed out of you, tell me, and.
I'll put the clamps on 'pmt They'll
buck the devil when they buck ,lack/
Thornton, and if it needs money to,
show 'em so I've got half a million tot
teach 'em the game!"
"Thanks, m'sleur," struggled Jan,
striving to keep a lump out di his,
throat, "it'd nothing like that. I don't
need money. nalf a million would`inst
about buy what I've given away uD
there." _ •
(TO BE CONTINVID4