Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1911-03-15
THE Danger Trail
By James Oliver curwood :4gs sssss4s
, Oliver Curwood

chilled blood in his veins leaped into
warm life again at the knowledge that
1t was Meleese who was trailing be-
hind them on the second sfedge!
when you yell like that give me a
little warning II you please, JEAN" he
said, speaking as coolly as though he
had not recognized the figure that had
come for an instant into the frelight.
sit Is enough to startle the life out Of
one!"
"It is our way Of saying good-by,
M'seur," replied Croisset with a fierce
| snap of his whip. "Hoo-la, get along
| there!' he cried to the dogs. and in
half a dozen breaths the fire was lost to
view.
Dawn comes at about s o'clock in the
Northern mid-winter; beyond the 5oth
degree the first rudy haze of the sun
begins to warm the southeastern skies
at 9, and its glow had already risen
above the forests before Croisset
stopped his team again. For two hours
he had not spoken a word to his prison.
er and after several ~unavailfng efforts
to break the others ta~citurnfty How
land lapsed into a silence Of his own.
When he had brought his tired dogs
to a halt Croisset spoke for the first
time.
I'VE are going to camp here o a
few hours" he explained. IF you viii
pledge me your word of honor that you
will make no attempt to escape I will
give you the use of your legs until
| after breakfast, M'seur. What do you
say?"
Have you a Bible, Croisset?'
mo, M'seur. but I have the cross of
our Virgin, given to me by the mis-
| sioner at York Factory"
eThen 1 will swear by i'll will swear
by all the crosses and all the Bibles
in the world that / will make no effort
to escape. I am paralyzed, Croissett !
couldn't run for a week.
Croisset was searching In his pock-
cts.
Mon Dieul" he cried excitedly, II
| have lost IT. All, come to think,
M'seur. I gave the cross to my Mariana
before 1 went into the South. But ]
Will take your word"
And who Is Mariane, Jean? viii
she also be in at the KILL"
"Martane is my wife. M'seur. An,
ma belle Mariane-ma cheri-the
daughter of an Indian princess and the
granddaughter OF a chef de battalion,
| M'seuri Could there be better than
that? And she Is b~e-e-e-utiful, M'seur.
With hair like the top side of a ravens
wing with the sun shining on 1t,
and"
You love her a great deal, Jean"
Next to the virgin-and-it may be
a little better"
Croisset had severed the rope about
the engineers legs. and as he raised
hts glowing eyes Howland reached out
and put both hands on his shoulders.
And in Just that way I love Me-
~leese," he said softly. jean. won't
you be my friend? I don't want to es-
cape. I'm not a coward. Won't you
think of what your Mariane might do.
and be a friend to me? You would die
for Mariane If II were necessary. And
/ woulu die for the girl back oil that
sledge."
He had staggered to his feet, and
pointed into the forest through which
they had come.
IT saw her in the freight, Jean. Why
is she following us? Why do they want
to kill me? If you would only give me
a chance to prove that 1t is all a mis-
take-that u
Croisset reached out and look his
hand.
"M'seur, 1 would like to help you" he
interrupted. Il liked you that night
we came IN together from the night on
the trail have liked you since. And