# The Trail of the Golden Horn/Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3
The Tell-Tale Lock
THE hour of midnight had just struck as Marion Brisbane opened a side door of the Kynox Hospital and entered. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with animation. It was her night off duty, and she had enjoyed herself at Mrs. Beck’s, the wife of the mining recorder. A few congenial friends had been invited, and most of the evening had been spent at bridge-whist. While refreshments were being served, Miss Risteen, the new teacher of the little school, had asked Marion why she had come so far north.
“For adventure, I suppose,” had been the smiling and evasive reply.
“Have you found it?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What! in a small hospital?”
“Certainly. It is there that we see so much of the tragedy of this country. Numerous trails lead into Kynox from various mining camps. You have no idea how many patients we receive during the year, though now we have only a few.”
“But I mean adventure in the open,” Miss Risteen had explained.
“Not much yet. But I have gone several times to outlying creeks to administer first-aid to injured men during the doctor’s absence. He has been away for a ​week now, so I never know when an urgent call may come.”
“Do you always go yourself?”
“Yes, always.”
Marion had then abruptly changed the subject, as she did not wish to be questioned further. Her friends had more than once remonstrated with her about her readiness and eagerness to go whenever a call came. They had urged her to let the other nurses bear their share of the hardships which such trips involved. But Marion had merely smiled, saying that she was selfish and enjoyed going to the camps. Not even to her nearest friends would she reveal the deep secret of her heart.
That which gave her the greatest pleasure, however, was a letter which Mr. Beck had handed to her during the evening. It had been given to him by a miner that afternoon who had come in from the outer trails to record a claim. At the first glance Marion knew whom it was from, and it was this which caused the flush upon her face and the light of joy in her eyes as she entered the hospital. She was anxious to reach her own room where she could read the letter to her heart’s content.
She had just closed and locked the door, when the night nurses appeared.
“Oh, Miss Brisbane,” the latter began, “we have had a lively time since you left.”
“Nothing wrong, Miss Wade, I hope,” Marion somewhat anxiously replied.
“That remains to be seen. About ten o’clock an old man, with a great flowing beard, brought in a little child.”
“Sick?”
​“No, nothing the matter with it.”
“Why did he bring it here, then?”
“For us to keep. He has given it to us.”
“Given it to us!” Marion stared at the nurse in surprise.
“That is what he said,” and Miss Wade smiled. “Why, he made himself at home here, and took possession at once.”
“Do you mean to tell me that he is here now?” Marion demanded.
“He certainly is, and with all of his belongings. He has taken up his abode in the kitchen, and is asleep on the floor, wrapped up in his blankets. He has his toboggan there, too. Just think of that!”
“But why didn’t you send him away?”
“He wouldn’t go. I told him we couldn’t keep him; that this was a hospital, and not a hotel. But it didn’t make any difference. He said that this was good enough for him.”
“What impudence! Why didn’t you send for me? Mr. Beck and the other men would have come over and put the man out.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to bother you. And besides, he seemed so harmless. He just wanted the kitchen, so I couldn’t very well object.”
“Where is the baby?” Marion asked.
“Asleep in my room. I gave it a bath, which it certainly needed, and something to eat. He is a dear little fellow, and I am fond of him already.”
“Who is the man, anyway? Did he tell you anything about himself, or where he came from?”
“He only said that he found the child in a cabin along the river about a mile from the C. D. Cut-Off. He would tell me nothing more.”
​“Then the baby is not his,” Marion said. “It is strange that he should bring it here. I wonder why he didn’t take it to Swift Stream.”
“I asked him that,” Miss Wade replied, “but he told me he wasn’t travelling that way. He is certainly an odd man, a giant in stature, and with wonderful eyes which seem to look right through one. He kept his cap on all the time, pulled down over his ears, even though the kitchen was very warm. I believe he went to sleep with it on. Suppose you have a look at him.”
“Very well,” Marion agreed. “I am somewhat anxious to see our strange guest.”
Together they passed out of the room into the hallway, and made their way to the door leading into the kitchen. This was closed, but Miss Wade softly opened it and peeked in.
“There he is,” she whispered. “He’s sound asleep.”
A lamp, partly turned down, emitted sufficient light for Marion to see the covered form lying upon the floor, with the toboggan nearby.
“He’s got his cap on, all right,” Miss Wade again whispered, suppressing with difficulty a giggle of amusement. “Isn’t it funny? He must use it for a night-cap.”
Marion motioned her to be silent, as she closed the door and led the way back along the hallway. She, too, saw the humor of the situation, although as matron she had to maintain the dignity of her position.
After she had taken a look at the baby which was sleeping soundly, she went to her own room. Here she opened the letter she had been carrying in her hand, and ran her eyes rapidly over the contents.
“Dear Miss Brisbane,” it began.
“I am on my way to Lone Creek to bring in Scotty ​Ferguson, who met with an accident. Please have a room ready for him. Constable Rolfe is with me. We should reach Kynox at the end of this week. I am sending this note by Joe Dart, who is going to town to record a claim.
“Hoping to see you soon, “Very sincerely yours, “John North, “Sergeant, R. N. M. P.”
That was all the letter contained in mere words, yet to Marion it meant a great deal more. She saw the writer, the strong, manly sergeant, who had made such a deep impression upon her. She recalled the last time he had been at Kynox when he had brought in a sick miner from an outlying creek. She had heard much about John North, the great trailsman and the fearless defender of law and order. Many were the tales told of his prowess to which Marion always listened with keen interest and a quickening of the heart. To her he was the very embodiment of the ideal hero, and one with King Arthur’s Knights of the Table Round. He was ever moving from place to place, bringing relief to the afflicted and redressing human wrongs. What a difference between this man and many of the men she had met. He was not in the country for gain, but in the noble service of his King and country. Her mind suddenly turned to the strange, long-bearded man asleep on the kitchen floor. What a contrast between him and John North. Who was he? she wondered, and where had he found the child? She thought, too, of his oddity in wearing his cap all the time. Was there some reason for this? Did it cover some scar or other disfigurement?
​As she asked herself these questions, an idea flashed into her mind which caused the blood to fade from her cheeks and her hands to tremble. She tried to banish the notion as she replaced the letter into its envelope and laid it upon a small table by her bed. But the idea would persist in returning until she could no longer resist its appeal.
For the space of a half-hour she debated with herself as to what she should do. Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning before seeing the man again. This, however, did not satisfy her. Several times she started to open the door, but each time drew back, uncertain and agitated. She was no coward, yet the thought of what might be revealed unnerved her. Nevertheless, she knew that the ordeal must be faced sooner or later. For that she had come north, and with one object in view she had visited numerous creeks and mining camps. But never before had such a nameless dread overwhelmed her. She had searched eagerly, and hopefully, studying with the closest scrutiny the one face which would reward all her efforts.
At length feeling that she could delay no longer, she left her room, and sped along the hallway. She felt guilty, almost like a thief, as she pushed open the kitchen door and looked in. The man was evidently sound asleep, for he was lying in the same position as when she first saw him. Creeping close to his side, she stooped and listened. Yes, he was asleep and breathing heavily. Reaching swiftly out, she lifted the peak of his cap, and at once the white lock of hair was exposed to view. Marion had seen enough. She turned and fled out of the kitchen, along the hall, and back to the shelter of her room. Here she stood, wide-eyed and panting like a hunted creature. She had ​reached the end of her quest. That for which she had been seeking she had found. But what a bitter disappointment! How she had looked forward to such a moment. It had arrived, passed, and she was left helpless, bewildered.
Sinking down upon the only chair the room contained, she endeavored to compose her mind that she might view the affair in as clear a light as possible. That the man lying in the kitchen was her father she had not the slightest doubt. That white lock of hair betrayed him, if nothing else. It was a family characteristic, and she alone of several generations had escaped the distinctive mark. How proud the Brisbanes had always been of their peculiar feature, and when no trace of it appeared in Marion’s luxuriant hair they had been greatly disappointed. The “Brisbane lock” was a common expression. It had its origin, so it was believed, in a great battle. A Brisbane in defending his King had received a sword cut on his forehead which left a gaping wound. When this healed, instead of an unsightly scar, the hair came out as white as snow. For years after that lock was a sign of royal favor, and a white lock formed the important feature of the family coat-of-arms. “Remember the Brisbane lock,” parents had admonished their children through many generations. It had always been to them a standard, a sign of almost divine favor. They had tried to live up to the ideal set by their worthy ancestor on the field of battle. Through all the years only one Brisbane bad brought reproach upon the name and the lock. And that man had fled from home and justice, a wretched outcast.
Marion was but a girl of twelve at that time, and she loved her father with all the ardor of her passion​ate nature. Nothing could make her believe the charge of forgery which was preferred against him. There had been some mistake, she was certain, and he had been basely wronged. Some day he would be proven innocent, the guilty ones exposed, and the Brisbane name cleared of infamy. Her mother believed the same, and thus through the years the two waited in patient hope. But they waited in vain. The exile did not return, so his deed remained a part of the history of the little town, and a blot upon the family escutcheon.
Ten years passed and no word from the absent one reached the mother and daughter. They knew, however, that he must be alive, for regularly twice a year money reached them through a local bank. It was a liberal amount, deposited to their credit, although the circumstances surrounding it were not divulged. But they were certain who sent it, and it was a steady reminder to them that he was in the land of the living and might one day return. Mrs. Brisbane cherished this hope until the last, and ere she died she expressed the wish that Marion should search diligently for her father. This the girl willingly agreed to do, for the idea had been lodging in her own mind for some time.
In order to carry out her design, Marion became a nurse. The west called to her, for she firmly believed that there her father had gone. After practising for two years in a city on the Pacific coast, she responded to an appeal from the far north. The new hospital at Kynox was in need of nurses, and she was at once placed in charge. It was a position of considerable responsibility, but she fulfilled her duties in a highly creditable manner. Her charming disposition, and her readiness to sacrifice herself for others, won all hearts. ​Old miners and prospectors, especially, appealed to her, for she was always hopeful that among them she would find her father. How eagerly her eyes searched every new face she met, and sought for the tell-tale lock. Men noted this earnest look, and often commented upon it among themselves. To them Nurse Marion was an angel of mercy, and even the roughest among them always spoke of her with the greatest respect.
Marion enjoyed her work and life in the northland. But never for a moment did she lose sight of her great quest. At times she almost despaired of ever finding her father. It was a vast land, and she was able to meet but a few of the miners and prospectors. How could she ever find the one for whom she was so eagerly seeking?
The image that Marion had kept in her mind of her father was a beautiful one. She remembered him as a man of fine appearance, of more than ordinary stature, with a strong, noble face. How proud she had always been when walking by his side, for then Thomas Brisbane was the leading citizen of Garthroy. She expected to find him the same years later. She was, therefore, totally unprepared to see her father in the long-bearded, and unkempt creature, content with the kitchen floor for his bed. What would her two assistant nurses think should she divulge the secret? And the people of Kynox—for there was a social clique even in this wilderness town—what would they say?
Hour after hour Marion battled with her doubts and fears. The night seemed unbearably long, and yet she dreaded for morning to come. Something then would have to be done. Should she let her father go without telling him who she was? And if she did tell, how would he receive the news? Would he rejoice in ​meeting his daughter again? or would he flee from her presence? Her brain was in a whirl, and she walked up and down her little room, torn by conflicting emotions.
Toward morning a desire came to her to go to her father and speak to him. If there should be an embarrassing scene it would be better to be with him alone than to have other nurses around. Her courage almost failed her as she left her room and hurried once more along the hallway. She was glad that the night nurse was nowhere in sight, as she did not wish to meet her just then. Reaching the kitchen door, she pushed it open and looked in. She started and glanced around the room. There was no one there. Her father was gone!