The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1927-07-15


wanted me there when it came. Her
eyes haunted me-every mile of the
! coast.
This last time when I went, she
babe me good-by-was sure that it
was the end. But We needed the
geese-we had to go. I've
seen men die-my friends; but those
wistful eyes! It's tragic.
. and she so young"
Guthrie stopped his pacing to run
his fingers nervously through his dark
hair.
"Oh, the dumb misery, here in the
north! Think If she'd stayed with her
people, to die In a tipi-neglected
I'm thankful II I've eased the loneli-
ness-the pain-for one"
The SounG OF coughing, followed by
Old Anne's frightened face in the
doorway, summoned them to the other
room. The effects of the Opiate had
worn off. The woman who had served
with the wounded" wiped the GRIM
sOned lips that moved in vain attempt
at utterance, as the large eyes, bright
with fever, chung TO the face Of the
man who sat beside the cot.
You go TO bed, Anne" said Guthrie
to the wrinkled Cree. Il will be here
the rest of the night" With muttered
protest the old woman shuffled from
the room.
Presently the dry lips of the sick
girl again moved "She wants to say
them.
Guthrie bent over the pillow.
you go-no more?" he family
heard.
He smiled into the questioning eyes,
as he shook his head. mo more
Ninda."
The heavy lids slowly dropped.
Through the slow hours Of the
night they sat beside the wait, who,
out Of the wilderness haG come to
EIkwan, and was now-returning.
And in the intervals between her min
istrations to the life which was slip
ping away, the guest Of Guthrie
learned much Of the man with whom
she shared the night watch.
In the candOr Of his explanation Of
the presence Of the Indian girl at
Elkwan, he had unconscIously re-
vealed to the curious woman who
studied him, intimate glimpses of
heart. The emblem Of the Distin-
guished Service order which he wore
in the photograph in his bedroom
vouched for his caliber as a soldier.
But why, she unused, did the brother
Of the rich Charles Guthrie linger In
the wilderness of the west coast when
a girl of such foveliness as her three
photographs suggested waited for his
return? For the nature of their rela-
tons was established beyond doubt
by the written sentiment on the photo
graphs. Yet, his health returned, he
seemed TO be deliberately staying on In
the north. What was behind 1t all,
wondered Joan Quarter; not pity for
this poor child, who, in the manner of
her kind, had given him worship for
the only kindness life had vouchsafed
her. That, clearly, would have an.
chored Guthrie at Elkwan while
Ninda lived. but in face of the fact
that the girl was desperately ILL
could not live into the autumn. he had
prepared to winter on the west coast.
Why?
So, together, they kept their watch,
where, through the hating hours, the
spirit of the waif of the forests how
cred, awaiting release. Once, after a
lirium lifted aid there was a mo-
ment of consciousness. He leaned to
her and the fear which looked from
the cropping eyes faded as she recog-
nized the SCARED cheek. The wrath
of a smile touched the drawn mouth.
As the stars paled above the purple
tundra of Akimiski, again she recog-
nized the face of Guthrie. Her lips
moved. His straining ears caught a
faint "Bo-jo," the Ojibwa farewell.
Then a crimsoned froth weIled
from the tortured lungs.
Joan Quarter left him with his
dead.
When she returned with Old Anne
grooming her grief, she touched him
on the shoulder
You must go now. We will care
for her"
For a space he stood beside the cot,
then said:
"Good-by, Ninda. AS you wished It,
you will stay-here, with your
friends" He turned graphically TO the
nurse. "She was a soldier: she did
not finch from wounds" and went
out, followed by the puzzled eyes of
the other
Then, outside, in the cool dusk of
the clearing rose a wall, mournful.
unearthly, followed by another and
another.
Joan Quarters face appeared in
the doorway of the living room.
It's too CHASTITY" she said with a
shiver. How do they known.
They always know-always wall
for the dead" And he went out to
quiet the dogs.
AT the gate of the stockade stood
the airedale, joining the huskies in
their threnody under the fading stars.
At Guthrie's command, the dog
stopped and trotting up, with muf-
fled whine thrust his moist nose into
his masters hand.
'Ninda's gone, Shot"
CHAPTER Ill