Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-08-11


Only an hour ago the thing had hap
pened which made life perfect for her.
and now Philip was gone and she left
alone.
For a while after he left she had kept
the pilot-house door open and, bundled
In her furs, had sat near it, her ears
strained for the sound Of a cry or the
report of rifle.
But the torture of that situation was
too great. Philip might be gone for
hours; and at this rate she would be
fairly beside herself long before his re-
turn. So. resolutely. she made light
shut the pilot-house door upon the world
took up her fathers journal and tried to
read.
But even this fascinating narrative
lacked the power to command her at
tention tonight. She rose half a dozen
times from the rude bench on which sne
sat to make some trif1ng alteration in
the room.
One thing she did had reference to the
possibility of Roscoe's attempting an at
tack on the pilot house-this was to re-
ney mouth. If Roscoe should succeed an
eluding Philip, or in killing him, she
wanted ample warning. The rising vino
ratified the pilot-house door and walled
in the chimney; but she knew she would
be able to detect the sound of the mon
ster's laborious ascent long before he
could reach the top.
She was sitting beside the oil stove In
one of the farther corners of the room
The chimney hole was in the correspond
table in the middle of the room, a few
PAGES behind her. The pilot-house door
was directly in line with it and almost
exactly behind her back. The door was
hinged to swing inward.
When it burst open she attributed the
fact to no other agency than the wind
She laid down the red bound book upon
the bench beside her and rose, rather
deliberately. before she turned round.
AS she did SO Roscoe sprang forward
to the table and seized the revolver. Hel
failure to turn Immediately had given
him the second he needed to take in the
strategical possibilities of the room.
His rifle was a clumsy weapon in close
quarters. So as he sprang forward he
dropped it and made for the revolver in
girl to convince him that she was un-
armed. Quite deliberately he broke oper
the breech of the revolver and satisfied
himself that it was loaded. Then he
looked up again. blinking at the girl.
She had not moved since she had caught
was the thought that Philip must be
dead. and the hope that Roscoe would
kill her quickly-before she could realize
that fact-before this strange. blessed
numbness which had frozen her in the
instant of her first glimpse Of him-should
have lost it's anesthetic power.
With that in mind she kept her eyes
upon the revolver. which those vast, hairy
hands of his were manipulating.
She had uttered no cry at all. She
turned dead-white and her eyes were
wide, but there was no terror In them
Roscoe on his part stood staring at her.
1t was no wonder that Carlson and Rose
had mistaken her for the ghost of the
man their leader murdered. She looked
like her father as woman may resem-
BILE a man, and her whiteness. her fine
ness, her delicacy all increased rather
than diminished the credibility of the
idea that she was in fact his spirit.
1t was this thought that for moment
held Roscoe staring blankly at her. But
he conquered It and forced his eyes upon
the details of her.
He saw that her fine hands were trem-
bling a little; he marked the faint rise
and fall of her breast as she breathed.
and then his greedy eyes ran over her
from head to heel and back again.
The hand which held the revolver drop
ped nerveless at his side. He swallowed
hard and wrung his cruel lips with his
other great hand. 1t was then that the
girl looked up into his face. 1t was then
she uttered her first cry.
kill her.
That was a horror she had never fore
seen, never, during all the months in the
hut, when the shadow Of this monster
had been a part of their daily life. The
worst that had ever occurred to her was
that he might kill them both. She under
stood now why Philip had shuddered;
why she had seen that look Of horror in
his eyes when he said that if Roscoe
killed him-when he had the revolver-he
would come back here and find her de-
fenseless. She understood now to the
full: it needed only one look into the
face to understand.
The shock Of this new idea brought an
change in her. moment
ago her mind had been absolutely lifeless.
ing or of acting. Now she was intensely
alive; her body keyed and ready. for sud-
den action; while her mind, with the
vividness of sudden summer lightning,
took in the situation and assessed her
chances not Of escaping with
her life. but Of foiling the lOathly intent
which she could read in the monsters
face.
Already her eyes had frightened and
the color come back to her cheeks: and
at that Roscoe moved restlessly to one
side, as if he meant to come round the
table. .~saix
suddenly Jeanne's eyes detached them
selves from his face A look Of sudden
alarm, came into them, and she raised
her hand to her throat, as though she
we're choking. She was looking past Ros-
coe and straight down the snow-tunnel.
"Philip!" she cried, take care; he's
here
The snow-tunnel was empty, and for
aught she knew her lovers body might
be lying mangled in the monsters cave.
She had thought of that before she tried
the trick. But even II that were so that
cry of hers might lead the monster to
steal one uneasy glance at the door be-
hind him: and even that would give her
time enough If he had not killed Philip.
but simply eluded him, he would turn in
;tantly.
That was what he did. He sprang
round with suddenness which bespoke
/ perfectly genuine. cOmmOn-sense alarm.
And then he found himself in darkness.
He understood at once that he had been
tricked Without wasting the time to
turn back and look at Jeanne, he sprang
toward the pilot-house door. He thought
she meant to attempt to rush by him.
gain the snow-tunnel and throw herself
over the crest Of the cliff. He had not
misread the sudden loathing he had seen
in her eyes when they met his face.
In the open doorway he wheeled round.
She had not got ahead of
him that time. He laughed aloud into
% hny. II