The Tomahawk., 1918-04-11

right; William Macleod Raine.
"Six o'clock, Mr.. Macdonald. Your
breakfast is ready. Jim is looking out
for the huskies."
Half an hour later the Scotsman
gave the order, "Mush!' He was of
again, this time on the back trail as
far as the Narrows, from which point
he meant to strike across to intersect
the fork Of the road leading to the di.
vide.
The storm had passed and when the
late sun rose it was in . blue sky. Fine
enough the day was overhead, but the
slushy snow, where 1t was worn thin
on the river by the sweep of the wind,
made heavy travel for the dogs. Mac
donald was glad enough to reach the
Narrows, where he could turn from the
river and cut across to hit the trail of
the men he was following. He had
about five miles to go before he would
reach the Smith Crossing road and
every foot Of it he would have to
break trail for the dogs. This was slow
business, since he had no partner at
the gee-pole. Back and forth, back
and forth hejtrudged. beating down the
loose snow for the runners. It was a
hill trail, and the drifts were in most
places not very deep. But the Scots
man was doing the work Of two, and
at killing pace.
Over ridge the team plunged down
into a little park where the snow was
deeper. Macdonald, breaking trail
across the mountain valley, found his
feet weighted with packed ice slush so
that he could hardly move them. When
ut last he had beaten down a path for
his dogs he stood breathing deep at the
summit Of the slope. Before them lay
the main road to Smiths Crossing,
scarce fifty yards away. He gave q
deep whoop of triumph, for along 1t
ran the wavering tracks left by sled.
He was on the heels of his enemy at
last.
AS he turned back to his Siberian
hounds, the eyes of Macdonald came
to abrupt attention. On the hillside.
not ten yards from him, something
stuck out Of the snow like signpost.
It was the foot Of a man.
Slowly Macdonald moved toward It.
He knew well enough what he had
stumbled across-one Of the tragedies
that in the North are likely to be found
in the wake of every widespread bliz-
zard. Some unfortunate traveller, blind
ed by the white swirl, had wandered
from the trail and had staggered up q
draw to his death.
With little digging the Alaskan
uncovered leg. The man had died
where he had fallen, face down. Mac
donald scooped away the snow and
found pack strapped to the back of
the buried man. He cut the thongs
and tried to ease it away. But the
gunnysack had frozen to the parka.
When he pulled, the rotten sacking
gave way under the strain. The con-
tents of the pack spilled out.
The eyes in the grim face of Mac
donald grew hard and steely. He had
found, by some strange freak OF
chance, much more than he had ex-
pected to find. Using his sn0wshoe as
Ia shovel, he dug the body free and
turned it over. At sight of the face he
gave q cry Of astonishment.
Gordon oversight. His plan had been
to reach Kusiak at the end Of a long
days travel, but that had meant get
ting on the trail with the first gleam Of
light. When he opened his eyes Mrs.
Olson was calling him to rise.
He dressed and stepped out into the
cold, crisp morning. From the hill
crotch the sun was already pouring
down q, great, fanlike shaft Of light
across the snow vista. Swiftwater
Pete passed behind him on his way to
the stable and called cheerful good
morning in his direction.
Mrs. Olson had put the stove outside
the tent and Gordon lifted it to the
spot where they did the cooking.
"Good morning, neighbor," he called
to Sheba. "Sleep well?"
The little rustling sounds within the
tent ceased. A face appeared in the
doorway, the flaps drawn discreetly
close beneath the chin.
"Never better. Is my breakfast
ready yet?'
"Come and help me make it. Mrs.
Olson is waiting on Holt" 49,.
"When I'm dressed" The smiling
face disappeared. dublin Bay" sound
ed in her fresh young voice from the
tent. Gordon Joined in the song as he
lit the fire and sliced bacon from a
frozen slab of It.
The bowling Of the huskies inter-
rupted the song. They had evidently
heard something that excited them.
Gordon listened. Was It In his fancy
only that the breeze carried to him the
faint Jingle of sleigh-bells? The sound,
IL 1t was one, died away. The cook
turned to his job.
He stopped saving at the meat, knife
and bacon both suspended In the air.
A.