Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1906-06-14

u lAc AdL -NOIlu At leHSlu IdNlOSA4
raised his mittened hand and extended i
outward like the needle of a compass.
II wonder" he mumbled, IF Tyars IS
out there"
I wonder" said the doctor, why you
intrusted this TO an Englishman."
If l had the whole world to choose
from, I should not have selected another
man." said Pavloski; but there was no
choice in the natter
L suppose" said the doctor, with an
ill-concealed sheer, that he has turned
back
I will swear by St. Paul that he has
not done thatl''
Then where is hep
Dead +" was the answer. 'If Claud
Tyars had been alive, he would have
come. He is not here, therefore he is
dead Ough I''
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 SHOW
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
\ hra J;o
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 PavIoski
| brokenly, ito 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,
doctor?"
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
a different voice-so different as to startle
his listener. 1t was soft and even. as if
recounting a dream not long dispelled.
1T is not yet 2 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 a 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. | remember the last time we met
was at Easton's house. Two of us are
dead, and | am nearly-dead. Tyars and
Grace-where can they be? They are
out there doctor, in front of us-to the
north. II shall &C and-meet them"
The lips closed with a sudden snap, and
the doctor leaned eagerly forward. Ser
gus 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 1t
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 a dull, stupid way he realized the
responsibilities of his position. He drag
ged two of the sledges out of the hut, and
with a Ratchet broke them up. Then he
took the two strongest pieces of each
the -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
debris as he could lay hands upon 1t
stood up gauntly almost the only object
within sight that was not white. 1t was
a mere pole, the thickness of mans
wrist, and yet it was probably visible ten
miles off against its cleaning surround
ings.
1T would be good" he mumbled, ito
be warm once more-just once"
And he piled up the wood in a littls
heap. He crawled into the hut and pres
emily returned bearing good sized tin
bottle labeled "Spiritus." He poured the
contents over the wood and struck a match.
| In a moment the blue flames leaped up
and the wood cracked. He crouched down
to the leeward side, so close that his
clothes were singed and gave forth 4
sharp, acrid smell. He withdrew his
mittens and held his bare, SCARED hands
right into the flames.
All" he murmured in a gurgling
voice, that is good ~
But it did not last long The wood
was light and very dry, and in five min
utes there was nothing left but a few
smoldering ashes.
The doctor rose to his feet and looked
long and steadily out to the north over
the broken ice. His eyes fingered over
each white mound and hillock-not loving
", for it was horribly dismal, almost too
dismal to be part of this world at all.
Strange to say, his eyes finished their
inspection by looking up to heaven. The
great snow-clouds were rolling south,
bearing in their huge, rounded bosoms the
white pail to cover a continent for many
months to come. But this man seemed
to be looking beyond the clouds, seeking
to penetrate the dim ether. He was not
looking at the sky, but into heaven. At
last he gave a contemptuous little shrug
of the shoulders, full of a terrible mean
ing. The next moment he sought for
something in the inner pocket of his fur
tunic. There was a CLEAN of dull, rusted
metal, and he raised his hand toward his
open mouth. At the same instant a sharp
report broke upon that echoless silence,
and little puff of white smoke was borne
southwark on the breeze.
(To De continued.)
| Short.