The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1906-09-08
Prisoners and CdpfiYes
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amid the gloom of it's interior there were
discernible a number of heaps, apparently
formed of old and tattered fur clothing.
These were dead men; the women of
Sergius Pavleski's party had not lived to
see the Arctic Ocean.
The man who stood gave short heart
,rending laugh as he looked out over the
frozen sea.
YES" he said, I'VE have tried It,"
There was pause, and then the Grip
ple-Sergius Pavloski-spoke again:
"Of course" he said, almost unintel-
ligibly, 1--WE have failed; but still our
failure may teach others, and we have
kept it secret. Those who want to know
will never know. They will always be
in uncertainty as to whether we have
escaped and are living hidden in America,
in Europe, perhaps in Russia. We shall
be more terrible, doctor, dead than alive"
II hope So"
Il. at all events, shall be, for you say
that l could not live week in a warm
climate. This leg of mine is less painful
to-day; perhaps it is healing"
mo, Pavloski; have told you doz-
en- times it is not healed, it is only frozen.
1t can never heal. The moment it thaws
you will die"
A sickly smile passed across his un-
slightly features, and there was silence
for time-the deathly expectant silence
of the far North. At length Pavloski
raised his mittened hand and extended i:
outward like the needle of compass.
Il WONDER" he mumbled, eff Tyars is
out there"
Il wonder" said the doctor, "why you
intrusted this to an Englishman."
IF l had the whole world to choose
from, 1 should not have selected another
man." said Pavloski; but there was no
choice in the matter"
Il suppose" said the doctor, with an
ill-concealed sneer, "that he has turned
be ck."
Il will swear by st. Paul that he has
not done that !"
"Then where is he?"
Dead" was the answer. IF Claud
Tyars had been alive, he would have
come. He is not here, therefore he is
dead! Ough"
He stopped and fell back fainting with
pain. In his excitement he had moved,
and allowed some of his weight to rest
upon the raw stump of his leg. In a Sec
ond the doctor was kneeling on the snow
beside him, raising his head, touching his
lips with snow. 1t was a poor restora-
tive, but there was nothing else at hand
One cannot offer to a dying man even the
tenderest piece of an old sealskin mitten
Without waiting for consciousness to
return, he attempted to lift the cripple,
intending to carry him within the little
snow hut, but the movement brought back
Pavloski's failing senses, and he shook
his head in token that he wished to be
left where he lay.
NO. he said, after gasping twice for
breath; II would rather die out here"
The doctors bare hand crept within the
tattered sleeve toward the pulse. He said
nothing. There was nothing to say.
Il do not want" continued Pavloski
brokenly, to see their faces. drought
them here. 1t is my fault. l suppose
the good Goodwill know how to revenge
all this. If they-the Romanoffs-the
Czar-had twenty lives, and we could
take-them alive might pay-the debt
but they have-only one life-to take
that would be too short-a punishment.
God will know how to do twill He not.
doctorY
"Yes," said the sweet, deep voice of
the doctor, "God will know how to do
it,
pray" said the dying man, "pray to
Him to do it-well ~
Then his head fell back and he
breathed regularly and softly. But this
was not the end. Presently the blackened
lips began to move, and he spoke in quite
different voice-so different as to startle
his listener. 1t was soft and even, as if
recounting dream not long dspelled.
1T is not yet year ago." he said.
''There were seven of us-four Russians.
two Englishmen, and an American. Four
Russians, two Englishmen and an Ameri-
can-what strong combination! The
Russians to go into action on land. the
Englishmen on the sea, and the sharp
witted American to watch and plot and
scheme. l remember the last time we met
was at Easton's house. Two of us are
dead, and l am nearly-dead. Tyars and
Grace-where can they be? They are
out there, doctor, in front of us-to the
north. II shall go and-meet them"
The lips closed with a sudden snap. and
the doctor leaned eagerly forward. Ser
gius Pavloski was dead. The survivor
rose to his feet. 1t had begun to snow
gently and in large fakes-a snow that
would cover the ground to the depth Of
twelve inches in half that number of
hours. AS it fell it gradually covered the
dead man, even to his face and eyes.
which were already cold
Presently the doctor moved little. and
turning slowly round, scanned the near
horizon. He could not see the pack ice
now, for the snow was blowing in from
the north, wreathing and curling as it
came.
Then this lone man moved toward the
snow hut, and entered it on his hands
and knees. He took no notice of the
dead-one soon gets accustomed to them
but fumbled about among the baggage
piled up in one corner.
In dull, stupid way he realized the
responsibilities of his position. He drag
ged two of the sledges out of the hut, and
with Ratchet broke them up. Then he
took the two strongest pieces of each
the cross bars-and bound them securely
together, thus forming a rough pole. This
he erected on a little mound where the
snow was thin, building it up with such
IL