Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-12-07

ana that the scene at the edge of the
forest mad been witnessed by none.
quickly MS mental faculties readjusted
themselves. He rose to his feet and for
few moments stood hesitatingly He
hdu NO weapon; but as his hand rested
upon the empty knife sheath at his belt
there came to him a thought of the way
IN "hlcn Mukee had avenged Cummins'
WE and ne turned again upon the trail.
He no longer touched the low-hanging
pushes. he was no more than a shadow
appearing and disappearing without warn
ing. trailing as the white >ermine follows
lts prey noiseless, alert. his body re-
spending sinuously and without apparent
effort to the working commands of his
brain.
Where the forest broke into an open.
lighted by the stars, he found blood in
the footprints of the leading dog. Half
way across the open, he saw where the
leader had swung out from the trail and
the others OF the pack had crowded about
him. to be urged on by the lashings of
the mans whip. Other signs of the packs
growing exhaustion followed close
The man now travelled beside the sledge
where the trail was rough, and rode
where it was smooth and hard The deep
imprints Of his heeled boots in the soft
snow showed that he ran for only short
distance at a time-a hundred yards or
leSs-and that after each running spell he
brought the pack to a walk: He was
heavy and lacked endurance. and this dis
covery brought a low cry of exultation
to JAMS lips.
dropped behind him: other miles were
ahead Of him, an endless wilderness of
miles. and through them the tired pack
persisted. keeping always beyond sound
and vision.
The stars began fading out Of the skies.
The shadows of the forest grew deeper
and blacker. and where the aurora had
lghtened the heavens there crept the
somber gray film that preceded dawn by
three hours.
There was hard-breathing effort now in
his running-effort that caused him physi-
cal pain and discomfort. His feet STUN
bled occasionally in the snow: his legs,
from thigh to knee, began to ache with
the gnawing torment that centers in the
marrowbone: and with the beginning of
the runners cramp' he was filled with
new and poignant terror.
Would the dogs beat him out? Slough
ing in the TRAIL bleeding at every foot,
would they still drag their burden be-
yond the reach of his vengeance? The
fear fastened itself upon him. urging him
to greater effort, and he called upon the
last Of his strength in a squirt that car
ried him to where the thick spruce gave
place to thin bush, and the bush to the
barren and rocky side Of a huge ridge.
up which the trail climbed strong and
well defined. For few PAGES he followed
1t. then slipped and rolled back as the
fatal paralysis deadened all power of
movement in his limbs. He lay where he
fell, moaning out his grief with his wide
staring eyes turned straight up into the
gold gray OF the starless sky.
For a long time he was motionless.
From the top of the ridge. where the
trail cut over the mountain, he looked
like bit of fire-blackened wood half
buried in the snow. Half way up the
ridge a wolf. sinking hungrily, shifted
broke the stiffness Of the gray night end
with a mournful howl It did not stir
Jan Thoreau.
Long after the wolf had passed on he
moved a little, twisting himself so that
his eyes could follow the tracks made by
the sledge and dogs. When he came to
where the snow-covered backbone of the
ridge cut itself in faint outline against
the desolate GOODNESS of the sky, there
fell from him the first sound of returning
life. Up there he was sure that he had
seen something move-an object which at
first he had taken for bush and which
he knew was not the wolf.
He watched for it's temperance, until
all sorts of gray dawn shadows danced
before his eyes. Then he began slowly
to crawl up the trail. Some of the dull.
paralytic ache was gone from his limbs,
and as he worked his blood began to
warm them into new strength. until he
stood UP and shifted like an animal in the
from the south.
There was something in that wind that
thrilled him 1t stung his nostrils to a
quick sensing of the nearness of some
thing that was human. He smelled
smoke. In it there was the pungent odor
of green balsam, mixed with a faint per-
fume of pitch pine; and because the odor
OF pitch grew stronger as he assembled he
knew that it was a small fire that was
making the smoke with none of the
flnrna dt-U m hlr,-y, f1o III t.
was fire hidden among the rocks. tiny
fire. over which the fleeing missioner was
cooking his breakfast.
Jan almost moaned aloud In his glad
ness. and the old mad strength returned
to his body. Near the summit of the
ridge he picked up a club. 1t was a
short. thick club with the heavy end
knotted and twisted.
Cautiously he lifted his face over the
rocks and looked out upon a plateau, still
deep in snow, swept bare by the winters
winds and covered with rocks and bushes.
His face was so white that at little
distance it might have been taken for a
snow hare. It went whittier when, a few
yards away, he saw the fire, the man and
the dogs.
The man was close to the little blaze,
his broad shoulders hunched over, steady
ing small pot over the flame. Beyond
him were the dogs, huddled about the
sledge, inanimate as death.
Jan drew himself over the rocks. Once
he had seen a big-footed lynx creep
upon a wide-awake fox, and like that
lynx he crept upon the man beside the
fire. One of the tired dogs moved, and
his pointed nostrils quivered in the air.
Jan lay fiat in the snow. Then the dogs
muZZle dropped between his paws and the
boy moved on.
Inch by inch he advanced. The inches
multiplied themselves into foot the foot
heightened into Yards, and still the man
remained hunched over his Simmering pot.
Jan rose gently from his hands and
knees to his feet furnace of madness
blazing in his eyes. The restless dog
raised his head again. He shifted danger
near, menacing danger-and Sprang up
with a snarling cry that brought the man
over the fire to quick attention. In a
fash Jan took the last leap and his club
crashed down upon the miSSiOner'S head.
The man pitched over like a log and
with a shrill cry the boy was at his
throat.
II am Jan Thoreau.' he shrieked 81
am Jan Thoreau-Jan Thoreau-come to
keel you" He dropped his club and was
upon the mans chest, his slender fingers
Tightening like steel wire about the thick
throat of his enemy. II keel you slow
slow" he cried, as the missioner strug-
gled weakly.
The great thick body heaved under him
and he put all his strength into his hands.
Something struck him in the face. Some
thing struck him again and again. but he
felt neither the pain nor the force of it,
and his voice sobbed out his triumph as
he chokeG. The mans hands reached up
and tore at his hair: but Jan saw only
notified and his eyes staring in greater
agony up into his own.
81 am Jan Thoreau,' he painted again
and again. II am Jan Thoreau an I keel