The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1916-04-03
CHAPTER |.

CHAPTER |.
The Camp on the Little BabOs.
Jensen drew the note from his
pocket and reread 1t:
You will immediately proceed
10 the camp on the Little Babos
as per previous instructions, and
await "a messenger from the
North. This note will identify
you.
Jensen threw the sheet down
on the table beneath the window
and gazed speculatiyely out across
! the river.
To the north lay Ungava and
the vast Arctic solitudes. From
there who was coming? And
what would he bring? On just
what this messenger from the
North" would bring hinged the
success or failure of Jensen's
heart breaking journey that had
finally brought him to this rough,
but comfortable three-room cabin
in the edge of the Little Babos
river.
Alan Jensen was a new and, so
far, rather unimportant cog in
that vast machinery of precau-
tionary measures the United
States government maintains to
! guard the permanence of its peace
md thn ~ Of @ nntnann
AS Jensen gazed out from the
cabin window across the Little
Babos. he saw ugly gray noun
tains of vapor that he knew must
be an early winter storm swiftly
coming his way.
Darkness was beginning to fill
Jensen threw fresh logs on the
fire and sat down to wait, as he
had been waiting for six days. lie
had found the shack well stocked
with wood but nothing with
which to make a light. Jensen
puzzled much over this odd cir
cumstance.
Jensen had all but fallen into
state of half dreamy doing
when he awoke with start.
There was some one pounding on
the door, and he could hear dogs
barking outside. He strobe to-
ward the door and threw 1t wide.
"Whe-e-w, But that fire looks
damn comforting doomed a deep
cOntralto voice, and Jensen near
ly dropped to his knees with
amaZement.
No half-breed, no Esquimau,
not even a white man, was this
person who entered the door and
pushed past him toward his roar
! ing fire. Instead, woman =
young, fair-skinned and fur-clad.
And she certainly had said
Damn"
Too amazed to speak, Jensen
stood gazing at this young woman
who had so suddenly invaded the
solitude Of the Little Babos camp.
Who was she, and where had she
come from?
Toward him she had not even
glanced. Drawing the bench closer
toward the blaze, she'sat down to
hold her palms out to the grate-
full warmth.
She was rather tall than short,
and wore a jacket of black fox,
tremendously expensive fur, as
Jensen well knew, and a. fox hood
was thrown back from her head,
permitting a cloud of spun-gold
hair to fall about her glowing
cheeks in fascinating tangles Of
disorder. Jensen gained the elu-
siye impression as he looked at
her, that this was a young woman
accustomed to the finer things of
life.
He decided that a modest cough
would be the proper thing to call
her attention TO his presence in
the room.
"Ahem."
With a start of establishment,
the young woman glanced Jen-
sens way, and look of astonish-
ment overspread her features.
why, why. why!" she cried in
crescendo. "Who are you?"
Jensen's heart became less
buoyant as he listened. This young
woman was giving him excellent
evidence that it was she who was
the messenger from the North"
alluded to in the note, and Jensen
felt rather certain that whatever
else the messenger from the
North might be, she was engaged
in a most disreputable business.
For answer to her question OF
who he was, Jensen merely nod
ded toward the note lying upon
the table; more he did not dare
say. If things we're to be kept
straight and she unsuspicious,
the note alone would do IL.
The young woman arose from
the bench before the blaze, pick
ed up the note, and read it in the
freight.
But, still I do not under
lstand." she declared with frown-
ing brows.
Then she threw up her head
;. with a decisive motion as she
added: ooh, this is absurd; who
are you, anyway? Don't try any
damn nonsense with me-"
Yes, she had said Damn" and
by this time Jensen was perfectly
certain that he could not be
dreaming. There was still nc