The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-02-28

now"
Then come a little bit further into
the cabin and get something to eat,
he said genially, ignoring or missing
the feminine suggestion OF appear IN
her voice. And you must be tired, too.
Which way are you travelling? UpY
Then you wintered in Dawson, or came
in on the last fee. Your camp?" He
glanced at the voyageurs circled about
the fire in the open, and held back
the door for her to enter.
Il came up on the ice from Circle
City last winter" he continued ana
settled down here for while. Am
prospecting some on Henderson creek,
and If that fails have been thinking of
trying my hand this fall up the Stuart
river
You aren't changed much, are you"
she asked irrelevantly, striving to throw
the conversation upon more personal
! basis.
"a little less flesh, perhaps, and a
little more muscle. How did you mean?"
But she shrugged her shoulders and
peered through the dim light at the
Indian girl. who had lighted the fire
and was frying great chunks of moose
meat, alternated with thin ribbons of
| bacon.
Did you stop in Dawson long," The
man was whiting stave of birch
wood into a rude AK handle, and asked
the question without raising his head.
ooh, a few days." she answered, fol-
lowing the girl with her eyes, and hard
ly hearing. What were you saying?
In Dawson? A month, in fact, and
glad to get away. The arctic male is
elemental, you know, and somewhat
strenuous in his feelings"
Bound to be when he gets right
Il = 1o0 fi0ra
with the spring bed at home. But you
were wise in your choice of time for
leaving. You'll be out of the country
before mosquito season, which is a
blessing your lack of experience will
not permit you to appreciate"
II suppose not. But tell me about
yourself, about your life. What kind
of neigEbors have you? Or have you
any?"
az did have some" he replied. Mis-
sourian chaps and a couple of Cornish
men, but they went down to Eldorado
to work at wages for grubstake.'
Mrs. Sayther cast a look Of specula-
tive regard upon the girl. 'But, Of
course, there are plenty of Indians
about?"
Every mothers son of them down to
Dawson long ago. Not native in the
whole country, barring Winapie here,
and she's a Koyokuk lasS-comes from
a thousand miles or SO down the river"
Mrs. Sayther felt suddenly faint, and
though the smile of interest in no wise
waned, the face of the man seemed to
draw away to a telescope distance and
the TERED logs of the cabin to whirl
drunkenly about
you do not ask why I came NorthY'
she asked. Surely you know" They
had moved back from the table, and
David had returned to his aX-handle.
did you get my letter."
"a last one? No, L don't think so.
Most probably it's trailing around the
Birch Creek country or lying in some
way they run the mails here is shame
full. No order, no system, no"
Don't be wooden, Dave Help mel"
She spoke sharply now, with an as
sumption of authority which rested
upon the past. why don't you ask
me about myself? About those we
knew in the old times? Have you no
longer any interest in the world? Do
you know that my husband is dead?"
Indeed, l am sorry How long"
David" She was ready to cry with
vexatfon, but the reproach she threw
into her voice eased her.
Did you get any of my letters? You
must have got some of them, though
| you never answered"
| nouncing, evidently, the death Of your
| husband, and most likely others went
| aStray; but 1 did get some. Ter
| read them aloud to Winapie as warn
| ing-that is, you know, to impress upon
her the wiCkedness of her white sisters.
And I--er-think she profted by it.
Don't your
She disregarded the sting and went
on. I'm the last letter, which you did
not receive, l told, as you have guessed,
| of Colonel Saythers DEATH That was a
year ago. l also said that if you did
| not come out to me I would go in to
you. And as had often promised,
| came"
II know of no PROMISE"
TN the earlier letters?''
Eyes, you promised, but as I neither
asked nor answered, it was unratified.
| So do not know of any such promise.
| But / do know of another, which you,
| too, may remember. 1t was very long
| ago." He dropped the AK handle to the
| floor and raised his head. 'Tt was so
| very long ago, yet remember 1t dis
! tinctly, the day, the time, every detail.
We were in a rose garden, you and
your mothers rose garden. All things
! were budding, poisoning, and the sap
Of spring was in our blood. And
| drew you overt was the first-and
kissed you full on the lips. Don't you
remember!
Don't go over it, Dave, don't! know
every shameful line Of it. How often
have I wept! If you only knew how ]
have suffered
you promised me then-ay, and a
| thousand times in the sweet days that
followed. Each look of your eyes, each
| touch of your hand, each syllable that
fell from your lips was a promise. And
then-how shall I say?-there came a
man.. He was old-old enough to have
! begotten you-and not nice to look
upon, but as the world goes, clean. He
| had done no wrong, followed the letter
| Of the law, was respectable. Further
and to the point, he possessed some
paltry mines-a score; it does not mat
ter; and he owned a few miles of lands
| and engineered deals and clipped cou-
| pons. He"
But there were other things" she
| interrupted. II told you. Pressure
money Understandings people
trouble. You understood the whole sit
uation. / could not help it. 1t was
not my will. I was sacrificed, or ]
sacrificed, have it as you wish. But
| my God, Dave, gave you up! You
never did me justice. Think what ]
have gone drought"
1T was not your will2 Pressure
| Under high heaven there was no thing
| to will you to this mans bed or that
But / cared for you all the times
| she pleaded. 81 was unusued to your
| way of measuring love. I am still un-
n a. A-i1Nr,r u 49,.