The Tucumcari news and Tucumcari times. [volume] (Tucumcari, N.M.) 1907-1921, 1918-08-08
THE K TRAIL
FIN AASkun L0Ue Story
, By WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
cp-Rh, william Mod RAe

Wally Selfridge had done, though his
reasons for not wanting to go were
quite different. They conferred about
n dusky-eyed young woman whom he
had seen for the first time n fortnight
before. He would have denied even to
himself that he was In love. but when
ever he was alone his thoughts re-
verted to Sheba O'Neiil.
At the big bend Gordon left the river
boat for his c~ross-country trek. Near
the r~oadhouse was IN Indian village
where he had expected to get a guide
for the journey to Kamatlah. But the
fishing season had begun, and the men
had all gone down river to take part
In Il.
The old Frenchman who kept the
t~rnding-post and roadhouse advised
Gordon not to attempt the tramp alone.
THE trail II ees what you call dan
gerous. F~eefty-Afile Swamp ees a mon.
ster that swallows men alive, mon
sieur. You walt n week-two week
tree week, and some one will turn
up to take you through" he urged.
But cunt wait. And / have an Of
fetal map Of the trail. Why can't I
follow 1t without a guide7" Elliott
wanted to know impatiently.
The post-trader shrugged. 'Maybeso,
monsieur-maybe not. Feefty-Mile-it
e one devil Of a trail. No checha.
koes are safe in there without a guide.
l, Baptiste. know"
"Selfridge and his party went
through Q week ago. I can follow the
tracks they left"
But II II rains. monsieur. the tracks
Will vaneesh. nest &C past Lose the
way. and the little singing folk will
swarm In clouds about monsieur while
he stumbles through the swamp"
Elliot hesitated for the better part
of a day. then came 10 an ;mpulsive
decision. He had a reliable map. and
anyhow he had only to follow the
tracks left by the Selfridge party. He
turned his back upon the big river and
plunged into the wilderness.
There came a night when he look I'd
up into the stars Of the deep. still sky
and knew that he was hundreds OF
miles from any other human being.
Never In all his life had he been 30
much alone. He was not afraid. but
there was something In .,
world 20 empty Of his kind.
The tracks Of the Selfridge party
grew fainter after q night Of rain. More
rain fell. and they were obliterated al.
together.
Gordon nshed. He killed fresh game
for his needs. Often he came on the
tracks Of moose and caribou. Some
times. startled, they leaped into view
quite close enough for a shot, but he
used his rife only to meet his wants.
The way led through valley and
morass, across hills and mountains. II
wandered In a sort Of h%aphaxard fash
ion through a s~un-bathed universe
washed clean OF sordldness and mean
ness.
It was the seventh night out that
Elliot suspected he was Of the trail.
Rain siuiced down In torrents and next
day continued to pour from a dun sky.
His own tracks were blotted U and
he searched for the trail In vain. Be
fore he knew Il he was entangled In
Ftfty-Mile. His map showed him the
h1Os > wtACtGhS0 kSk h4ty A4AhSo ~ ~
south. but he knew that II had been
charted hurriedly By q surveying purity
which had made no extensive explora.
lions. A good deal Of this country vas
terra incognita. II ran vaguely into .
No Mans Land unknown to the pros
psetor.
TIE going was heavy. Gordon had
to pick his way through the messy
swamp. leading the pack.horse by the
bride. Sometimes he was ankle-deep
In water Of a greenish slime. Again
he had to drag the animal from the
bog to a hummock Of grass which gave
n spongy footing. This would end In
another quagmire OF peat through
which they must pillow with he mud
sucking at their feet. It was hard.
wearing toll. There was nothing to do
but keep moving. The young man
staggered forward TIL dusk. Utterly
exhausted, he cnmped for the night on
a hillock OF moss that rose like IN
island In the swamp.
Elliot Travelled next day by the COM
pass. He had food for three days
more, but he knew that no living man
had the strength to travel for 10 long
In such a morass. II was near mid
day when he lost his horse. The AMI
nal had begged down several times
and Gordon had wasted much time and
spent n good deal Of needed energy In
dragging II to firmer footing. This time
the pony refused TO answer the whip.
Its master unloaded pack and saddle.
He tried coaxing he tried the whip.
"Come. Old-Timer. One plunge, and
youm make II yet" he urged.
The pack-horse turned upon him
dumb yes Of reproach. struggled to
free Its limbs from the mud. and sank
down helplessly. II had travelled its
last yard on the long Alaska trails.
After the sound Of the shot had died
away, Gordon struggled with the pack
to the nearest hummock. He cut holes
IN a gunny-sack to At his shoulders
and packed into II his blankets. =
saucepan, the beans, the coffee, and
the diminished handful Of hour. Into
i went, too, the three slices of bacon