The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1923-09-19

In a little while Ned stripped the
pelt from the warm body of the
wolf and continued down his liAe
of traps. He was able to think more
coherently now and consider methods
and details. And by the same token
of clear thought, he was brought
face to face with the fact of the al
most insuperable obstacles in his
path.
Plans for freedom first of all seem
ingly had to include Doomsdorf's
death. This was the first essential,
and the last. Could they succeed In
striking the life from their master,
they could wait in the cabin until the
trader Intrepid should touch their
island in the spring.
The difficulty lay in finding an
opening Of attack. Doomsdorf's rifle
was never loaded except when it was
in his arms, and he wore his pistol
in his belt. day and night. For all
his hopelessness. Ned had noticed,
half inadvertently, that he always
took precautions against a night at
tack. The squaw slept on the out
side of their cot and would be as
difficult to pass without arousing as
a sleeping dog. The cabin itself was
bolted, and the three prisoners, Of
course. slept in the newer cabin.
Ned was working that part Of the
line from his Twelve-NIile cabin over
the ridge towards the Forks cabin
his old rendezvous with Bess. He
was somewhat late in crossing the
range today. The blazed trail took
him around the shoulder of the ridge,
clear to the edge OF a little, deeply
scanned glacier such as crowns so
many Of the larger hills in the far
north.
Few were the wild creatures that
traversed this icy desolation, so his
trap line had been laid out around
the glacier, following the blazed trail
in the scrub timber. But today the
long way round was particularly
grievous to his spirit More than a
mile could be saved by leaving the
timber and climbing across the Ice,
and only few sets, none Of which
had ever proved especially produc-
tive, would be missed
Without an instant's hesitation he
turned from the trail straight over
the snowy summit toward the cabin
The cutoff would save him the an
noyance of making camp after dark
And since he had climbed it once be-
fore, he scarcely felt the need of ex-
ira caution.
The crossing. however, was not
quite the same as on the previous oc-
casion. Before the ice had been COW
cred, completely across, with a heavy
snowfall. no harder to walk on than
the open barrens. He soon found
now that the snow prevailed only to
the summit Of the glacier. and the
descent beyond the summit had been
swept clean by the winds.
Below him stretched a half-mile of
glare ice, ivory white like the fangs
of some fabulous beast of prey. Here
and there it was gashed with Gre
v:ces-those deep glacier chasms into
which a stone falls in silence. For a
moment Ned regarded it with con-
siderable displeasure.
He decided to take a chance. He
removed his snowshoes and Ventured
carefully out upon the ice.
It was easier than it looked. His
noccasins chung very well. Steadily
gaining confidence, he walked at a
faster pace. The slope was not much
on this side, the glacier ending in an
abrupt cliff many hundred feet in
height, so he felt little need of espe-
cial precaution. 1t was, in fact, the
easiest walking that he had since his
arrival upon the island, so he de-
cided not to turn off clear until he
reached the high ground just to one
side of the ice cliff. He crawled down
a series of shelves, picked his way
fetched up at last at the edge Of a
dark crevice scarcely fifty feet from
the edge of the snow.
The crevice was not much over
five feet wide at this point, and look
ing along, he saw that a hundred
yards to his right it ended in snow
bank. But there was no need of fol
lowing it down. He could leap it at
standing jump: with running start
he could bound ten feet beyond
He was tired, eager to get to camp
and this was the zero hour. He
drew back three PAGES, preparatory
to making the leap.
All the Wilderness world seemed to
be straining- listening. The man
Ieaped forward.
At that instant the North gave him
some sign of its power. His first
running step was firm, but at the sec
Ond his moccasin failed to hold, slip
ping straight back. He pitched for
ward on his hands and knees, grasp
ing at the hard, slippery ice.
He slid rather slowly, with that
sickeniug helplessness that so often
characterizes the events of a tragic
dream; and the wilderness seemed
still to be waiting, watching, in I'M
utterabIe Indifference. Then he
pitched forward into the crevice.
He was not to die at once There
was still hope of life. He fetched up, |
as if by a miracle, on an icy shelf |
ten feet below the mouth of the |
crevice-with sheer walls rising on
each side.
XIV