The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1927-06-24
CHAPTER 1


tail patrolled the flats between the
marshes and the sea. Inland, where
mice hunting hawk-owls wheeled and
dipped low over the grass flats, black
duck rose from pool as heavily
burdened figure made its way slowly
toward a tent on an alder-grown
tongue of higher land thrusting sea-
ward into the marsh. AS the man
neared the camp, dog barked. Then
the warning, rough and sharp, soft
ened to whines and yelps of recogni-
ton. Plunging at a stake, huge alre-
dale wriggled an ecstatic welcome to
his goose-laden master.
Hello, Shot, old boy" With an ex
clamation of relief the man stretched
his aIms, for his load had been heavy.
He was rangy and well made, his lean,
strongly modelled features bronzed by
wind and sun. From the corner of the
right eye a scar crossed the cheek
bone to the ear.
Placing his gun in the tent, the
goose-hunter freed the plunging dog.
Throughout the long hours of the day
a prisoner at his stake, nose tortured
by the scent, eyes hungry with the
sight of passing duck and geese, the
airedale went mad at his release.
While the animal worked off his
pent energy in thrashing through the
alders and long grass in the vicinity
of the camp, his master started fire
and put on a kettle of goose to boil;
then went In search Of drift cedar, for
q September nOrther on the west coast
of James bay may blow for days, and
cedar kindlings kept dry in tent are
useful.
In an hour the marshes were purple
with dusk Then over the bay an I'M
broken roar as of a thousand guns,
coupled with thrusts of light, signaled
the turn of the tide, and the barrage
of wind and rain opened. Along the
wide beaches Numbered the surf. A
mile back in the rocking alders, in
low tent anchored and prOpped against
the pounding of the wind, man lay
with his dog.
AS Garth Guthrie listened to the
clamor of the wind, the far drumbeat
of the advancing tide, the drive of the
rain like machine-gun bursts on his
tent, his thoughts followed the throb-
bing years through which he had just
lived. Here, in this wild night on the
gray coast of the bay, how shadowy
1T seemed-that war which had caught
him up, boy fresh from college, and
dropped him man, SCARED of body
disillusioned. Even Ethel seemed
shadowy, although her last letter
brought up the coast by canoe packet
from Fort Albany hardly two weeks
before, had flicked him with remorse-
regret, almost, for his decision to win
ter again on the bay-Ethel, whom he
had taken by storm (as he thought)
at the time of his short leave home,
In Montreal, after the tragic Somme.
1t had been a typical war wooing.
Enlisting as a private, he had gone
overseas with the first Canadian d.
vision, and returned, late in 1916,
veteran platoon leader, wearing a
wound stripe and the Military cross
for one morning in his English hos
pital, Lieut.. Garth Guthrie had re-
ceived a double surprise-a decoration
for gallantry and sixty days home
leave while his wounded left arm re-
covered its strength. This last was
patiently the work Of his older brother,
Charles, whose Montreal machine
shops were running night and day on
government shell contracts, for home
leave was rare among the Canadians.
Then he had met Ethel.
With a boy of twenty four, who, two
years before, had carried the dreams
of college senior into the shambles
of Flanders, the hours spent with the
? lovely Ethel Falconer could march to
but one fulfillment. A member of the
nursing corps organized by Clara
Guthrie, Garth's efficient sister-in-law,
the girl had captured his Imagination
at their first meeting. Youth, war,
and Mrs Guthrie had done the rest.
So young Lieutenant Guthrie,
wounded and decorated for bravery,
and brother of the maker of NUM-
lions and member of government
boards, had, in those tense, dramatic
days, found to his delight that the
course of true love often runs surpris-
ingly smooth. In a manner foreign to
earlier generations, Ethel Falconer
had met the impetuosity of the ardent
young soldier with a response equally
frank. The days Of his leave were too
cruelty short to be wasted. In a week
she was wearing his ring.
Then came the parting, and the two
CHASTITY years-nightmare of CRIME
and slaughter, soul-harrowing months
of alternate hope and despair, fol-
lowed by-victoryl To the man lying
In the tent shaken by the storm re-
turned the face Of Ethel, vivid as
when, on his return from overseas, he
stood at the rail of his ship being
warped to its pier
1t had been a proud and happy
Homecoming for Maj Garth Guthrie,
%. S. o., but the three wound stripes
on the sleeve of his tunic were not
empty symbols. There remained 10
DRY of the moment when his yearn-
Ing arms had released her and Ethel
had gasped, "Oh, Garth, how thin and
old you've grownl" Then, as he
turned to hug Clara and his brother,
the ill-concealed start-the leok of
pain when Ethel Falconer first saw
the red scar furrowing his cheek from
eye to ear. His letters had casually
mentioned scratch on the face, for