The Fairmont West Virginian. (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1904-1914, 1912-01-25
CHAPTER VI.

1t was held by the thousands ot
bero.worshipping chechaquos that Day
light was man absolutely without
fear But BEETLES and Dan Macdonald
and other solrdoughs shook their
heads and laughed as they mentioned
women. And they were right. He had
always been afraid of them from the
time, himself a lad q seventeen, when
Queen Anne, Of Juneau, made open
ard ridiculous love TO him. For that
matter, he never had known women.
Born in mintng.camp where they
we're rare and mysterious, having no.
sisters, his mother dying while he was
an infant, he had never been In con-
tact with them.
But 1t was left to the Virgin to give
him his final fright. She was found
one morning dead in her cabin. "a
shot through the head had done II,
and she had left no message. no ex.
plauadon. Then came the talk. Some
wit, voicing public opinion. called 1t a
case OF too much Daylight. She had
killed herself because Of him. Every
body knew this, and said so. The cor
respondents wrote It up, and once
more Burning Daylight, King Of tho
Klondike. was sensationaIly featured
in The Sunday supplements Of the
sGnited States. The Virgin had
Strengthened up, SO the feature.stories
ran, and correctly so. Never had she
entered a Dawson City dance-hall:
When she first arrived from Circle
City she had earned her living by
washing clothes. Next, she had bought
sewlng.machine and made mems
drill parkas. fur caps, and mooseliide
mittens. Then she had gone as clerk
into the First Yukon Bank. All this,
and more, was known and told, though
one and all were agreed that Day.
light. while the cause, had been the
innocent cause of her unttmely end.
And the worst of 1t was that Day.
light knew it was true. Always would
he remember that last night he had
seen her. He had thought nothing OF
It at The time; but, looking back, he
was haunted by every little thing that
had happened. In the light of the
tragic event, he could understand
eyerything-her quietness, that calm
gertrude as If all yexing Questions of
living had been srnoothed out and
were gone, and that certain ethereal
sweetness about atisthat she had said
and done that had been almost mater
nal He remembered the<way she had
looked at him, how she had laughed
when he narrated Mickey Dolan's mis-.
take in stalking the fraction on skooli-
nm Gulch, Her laughter had been
lightly joyous, while at the same time
It had lacked its old-time robustness
Not that she had been grave or sub.
dued. On the contrary, she had been
so patiently content, so filled With
peace. She had fooled him, fool that
he was. He had even thought that
night that her feeling for him had
passed, and he had taken delight in
the thought, and caught visions of the
satisfying future friendship that would
be theirs with, this perturbing love
out Of the way
And then, when he stood at the
door, cap in hand, and said good night.
It had struck him at the time as a
funny and embarrassing thing, her
bending over his hand and kissing it.
He had felt like fool, but he shivered
now when he looked back on 1t and
felt again the touch of her lips on his
hand. She was saying good.by, an
eternal good-by, and he had never
guessed. At that very moment and
for all the moments of the evening,
coolly and deliberately, as he well
knew her way, she had been resolved
to die. If he had only known it! Tn.
touched by the contagious malady
himself, nevertheless he would have
married her II he had had the slight.
est mixing of what she contemplated.
And yet he knew, furthermore, that
hers was certain stitf-kneed pride
that would not have permitted her to
accept marriage as au act Of philan.
thropy. There had really been no saw
ing her. after all The love.disease
had fastened upon her, and she had
been doomed from the first to perish
Of II.
Six thousand spent the winter of
1897 in Dawson, work on the creeks
went on apace, while beyond the pass.
es 1t was reported that one hundred
thousand more were waiting for the
spring. Late one brief afternoon, Day.
light. on the benches between French
Hill and shookum Hill, caught a wild
er vision of things. Beneath him lay
the richest part of Eldorado Creek
while up and down Bonanza he could
see for miles. 1t was scene OF a
vast devastation. The hills, to their
tops had been shorn OF trees. and
their naked sides showed signs OF gor-
ing and perforating that even the
mantle OF snow could not hide. BE.
meath him, in every direction, We're
the cabins OF men. But not many
men were Visible. A blanket OF smoke
filled the valleys and turned the gray
day to melancholy twilight. Smoke
arose from a thousand holes in the
kn1