The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1916-04-04

sen caught himself together,
, opened his lips, and swallowed
the draught.
, 1t was an heroic dose of strych-
. nine that Kerry Mallabee had ad-
, ministered to her patient; but it
brought strength and he felt so
much better, he attempted to
, arise.
mo, no." chidded Miss MALTA
, bee, you mustn't try to get up;
save all your strength for the
, journey that is ahead of us. Now
, that the cabin is burned, we must
try to beat out the storm on the
back trail to where you may be
. cared for. Can you stand a 90
, mile sledge Journey" she asked
as she placed one soft hand on
is burning brow. 5@ss
1t was wonderfully cool and
comforting hand that smoothed
back Jensen's hair; and the
brown eyes that looked question
ingly down into his would not
have been without their appeal to
a man in all his strength.
One moment more of her pity
ing comfort, and Alan Jensen
might have forgotten his loyalty
to Chief Hike and told Kerry
Mallabee that, even thought she
were the ring leader in this colos-
sal counterfeiting plot that ives
puzzling the United States treas
~ = hn
heart and soul, to the end.
1t may be that Kerry Mallabee
caught some hint of his state of
mind for she suddenly stood up
and shouted to Peter Saint, who
had been attempting to build a
temporary shelter from material
saved from the fire.
Load the komatics, Peter"
she cried. We'll make the back
trail for Camp Argyle. Put the
best part of the duffle on my
sledge; load yours light and make
soft bed for this sick man."
But Camp Argyle, Get ees 90,
yes, almost won hon'red mile, an
theese bliz she blow like, wall,
like the very hell, Meese, an the
M sieu, wot weel he say? There is
the danger, Meese, Of"
Swiftly and lightly Kerry NAL
labee's fingers touched the blind
mans lips. as she shot a fright
ened glance Jensen's way and
,, whispered.
Hush! We can't be sure of this
man. Perhaps Tom Springvale did
send him on the errand when he
failed; perhaps he didn't; that
matter must be settled at Camp
Argyle. Until then be careful
what you say"
A word here and there of their
conversation had been caught by
Jensen's hearing, rendered super
acute by the drug he had taken;
yet it was as inexplicable to him
as so much Choctaw. Even had
his mind not been beset by the
nightmare of fever, he could not
have felt really certain that their
talk had reference to the counter
feiting mystery.
AS Peter Saint, Miss Mallabee
,, and Alan Jensen left the burn
ing Little Babos cabin and start
ed on the trail toward Camp Ar
gyle there began for Jensen a
. heart-breaking journey of nearly
one hundred miles that will long
linger in his memory. In order
to keep his weak form secure on
the sledge, 1t had been necessary
to bind him there with cords.
Carefully as this had been done,
the cords cut cruelty into his
flesh at every jolt of the sledge
runners. And the storm beat
: pitilessly into his face, like a rain
of sharp sand, for they were now
travelling into the very teeth of
: the wind.
The intense cold he neither
considered nor felt; thus his body
temperature Of los degrees was
not without some benefit. And
continually he was trying to fight
back the delirium; trying by
sheer force of will to hold his
mind to sane things and to study
his case.
At times they stopped for \
rest, the sledges were turned
back to the gale, and Miss MALTA
bee came up to where Jensen lay
fighting his silent battle against
the fever. Since she realized the
seriousness of his illness she had
dropped the notion of referring to
him as this man who calls him
self Kerrison," and now called
him simply Boy" These slight
rests and her presence by his side
had come to be like GASES in Jen-
sens nightmare journey.
When night came they halted,
and the blind man managed to
throw together a rough. lean-to
tarpaulin shelter. Then he built a
: fire and made coffee. Jensen's
sledge bed was drawn close to the
blaze, and Peter Saint brought
him a tin cup of coffee and a
: handful of biscuits. He drank
the coffee, but the biscuits he
: could not force himself to swal-
, low.
Miss Mallabee munched her bis.
cults, drank her coffee and then
turned to the haitian.
/ You had better lie down and
sleep, Peter Saint" said Mics