The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-09-05
Copyright, 1911. by the Bobbs-
 Merrill Go.

Copyright, 1911, Dy the BODDS-
 Merrill CO.
 
 open The man at the desk glanced curiously at Thornton. Two girls at typewriters exchanged whispered opin- ions as to who might be this wild look ing creature from the north who was taking up an hour of the subcommis- sionerss time. Nearly two hours pass sed before Jan appeared. Thornton, still patient, rose as the door opened. His eyes first encountered the staring face of the subcommissioner. Then Jan came out. He had aged five years in two hours. There was a tired stoop to his shoulders, strange pallor in his cheeks To Thornton his thin face seemed to have grown thinner. With bowed head, looking nowhere but ahead of him, Jan passed on, and as the last door opened to let them out into the pale winter sun Thornton heard the muff1ed sobbing of his breath. His fingers gripped Jan's arm. His eyes were blazing.
 eff you're getting the wrong end of anything up there,'' he cried 1ercely; eff you're in trouble, and they're talk ing the blood out of you, tell me, and I'll put the clamps on 'em! They'll buck the devil when they buck Jack Thornton, and if it needs money to show 'em so I've got half a million to teach lem the game"
 rsThanks, m'sieur," struggled Jan, striving to keep a lump out of his throat. tfIt's nothing like that. don't need money. Half million would just about buy what I've given away up there-''
 He clutched his hand for an instant to the empty pocket where the papers had been.
 That night, leaving Thornton still at supper in the little old Windsor hotel, Jan slipped away and, with Kazan at his heels, crossed the frozen Saskatch- evan to the spruce forest on the north shore. He wanted to be alone to think, to fight with himself against a desire which was almost overpoWering him. Once, long ago, he had laid his soul bare to Jean de Gravois, and Jean had given him comfort. Tonight he longed to go to Thornton as he had gone to Jean and to tell him the same story and what had passed that day in the office of the subcommissioner.. In his heart there had grown something for Thornton that was stronger than friend ship-something that would have made him fight for him and die for him as he would have fought and died for Jean de Gravois. It was a feeling ce- mented by a belief that something was troubling Thornton; that he, too, was filled with a loneliness and a grief which he was trying to conceal. And yet he fought to restrain himself from 00nf1diT1o in ne do no good, he knew. except by reliev- ing him of part of his mental burden.
 A week-it might be ten days, the subcommissioner had told him-and it would be over. Lights were out, and people were in bed when he and Kazan returned to the hotel, but Thornton was up sitting by himself in the gloom, as Jan had first seen him at Le Pas. Jan sat down beside him. There was an uneasy tremor in Thornton's voice when he said:
 ''Jan, did you ever love. a woman love her until you were ready and will ing to die for herr"
 The suddenness of the question wrung the truth from Jan's lips in a low, chok- ing voice. For an instant he thought that Thornton must have guessed his secret.
 ~Yes, m'sieur'
 Thornton leaned toward him, grip ping his knees, and the misery in his face was deeper than Jan had ever seen it before.
 'I love a woman-1ike that,'' he went on tensely. "A gfrl-not woman, and she is one of your people, Jan-of the north, as innocent as a flower, more beautiful to me than-than all the wo- men I have ever seen before. She is at Oxford House. I am going home to ito save myself.'
 Save yourselfr' cried Jan. Does she not love you?'
 ''She would follow me to the end of the earthi''
 ssThen''-
 Thornton straightened himself and wiped his pale face. Suddenly he rose to his feet and motioned for Jan to fol- low him. He walked swiftly out into the night and still faster after that un- til they passed beyond the town. From where he stopped they could look over the forests far into the pale light of the south.
 That's hell for me!'' said Thornton, pointing. Its what we call civiliza- tion-but it's mostly hell. I wish to God could stay here-aiways!"
 seYou love her,'' breathed= Jan sfYou can stay"
 ssI can't 2, 0roanad Thornton .sT canss