The Ladysmith news and Ingram news. [volume] (Ladysmith, Wis.) 1905-1906, 1905-06-03

1 IlOIlCuI, 1dlOCo Ills Sun, O1oA5hC ~ "
his shoulder, and without hardly TAX
| ing aim, fired.
There was a wild, spasmodic leap,
a splashing and plunging. He fret
again and again at the struggling
beast. With snort of agony it made
a few plunges blindly into the thick
| ct and fell
Paul reused himself in a moment
and rushed to it's side. Despair quick
ly gave way to joy, for here was food.
The moose was a giant in size, and
would furnish them with food for
| days. He cut it's throat with his knife
and then for the first time thought of
his companion. He called aloud, and
| fired shot in the air, but only the
echoes answered him.
''He will get on my trail and follow
me-" thought Paul, and began to skin
| the dead moose without feeling in
| the least uneasy. Having at last com
pleted his task, he built a fire, and,
| cutting off some of the choicest steaks
| began to broil them over it. Paul had
been on short rations long time, and
never steak tasted better.
Paul wrapped himself in his blank
ct and lay down by the fire to warm
himself and dry his clothing. The
night passed in troubled dreams.
When he awoke it was broad day
| light.
When it was noon and Paul's com
panion did not come he began to feel
| uneasy. Could it be they were lost?
| To become separated he thought.
would be fatal to both. He roasted
and packed away all the moose meat
he could carry, and after another, rest
| less night, started out to return to the
spot where he had last seen his COM
panion.
The lowering skies portended anoth-
err storm, and before he had gone five
miles the snow was falling in blind
ing fury, completely obliterating the
trail. For hours and hours Paul stag
| gered on until he came upon a great,
| high wall of stone, which barred his
farther progress and partially shelf
cred him from the driving storm.
He spread his blanket above him,
and, finding some dry pine sticks,
kindled a little fire, over which he
| stretched his half-frozen fingers. His
| suffering throughout that night was in
| tense, and it is a wonder that he did
not perish.
But morning came, and, cold and
hungry AMI in despair, he crept away
from the great cliff under shelter of
which he had passed such miser-
able night.
He reached a deep ravine in which
was a great deal Of dry pine wood,
| and he proceeded to make a fire. The
fire blazed and roared and gave out
| generous heat He was soon warmed,
and, wrapping his blanket about him,
slept throughout the day. Night came
and he awoke, and, building another
fire, slept throughout the night.
| Next day the sky was clear, and he
started on his wandering, going in the
direction OF the Yukon. He slept that
night in the shelter of rock, and the
next morning started again on his
journey.
About the middle of the forenoon
| he saw a party of men coming toward
him, and shouted and danced for joy.
He ran to meet them yelling like a
| mailman.
At last he came up with them. The
| leader was a tall man about his own
age. He gazed on the being whom
hardship, exposure and toll had SO
completely metamOrphosed that he
was unacceptable, and asked:
who are you, and what are your"
Paul started back with an eXclama-
ton of horror, and we'll he might He
was face to face with his most bitter
enemy, Theodore Lakeland.
1t is necessary at this point in our
story that we take leave of Paul for
the time being and return to the brave
girl whom we left fastening to the
dangers and wilds of the polar world
for the man she loved.
Laura kept up bravely so long as
she could discern the form of Mrs.
Miller on the dock, but when it faded
from view she fell upon a steamer
chair and burst into tears. A hand
hardened by toll and softened by love
was laid upon her shoulder and a low,
gentle voice whispered in her ear:
Don't cry, pretty one. It's hard
lot we've chosen, but there's a rich
promise in the future for ye."
Looking up she saw the kind face
of the woman called Kate Willis bend
ing over her.
II know, child, it's tough on We t.
go away from friends and relations,
perhaps, but yell find friends where
yer goin' that'll be true to ye."
81 don't doubt you, my good woman.
| don't doubt you," Laura declared.
Pardon this weakness and let me as
sure you that it will not last long.
The knowledge that l shall perhaps
never see the face of that dear friend
has quite overwhelmed me for the
time being"
'Oh, it's nothin', my dear, after We
git used to it; but gittin' used t it's
the trouble I tell We, Laura, I'll look
after We when we git to Alaska. Ye
shan't work I'll do it for We. Them
pretty little hands sha'n't do any.
1 l. II