The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1929-10-11
A Northldnd Romance
by
Robert w. Service
Illustrations by Ir,vin Myers
WNU Service
CHAPTER XII-Continued

NIiHlly the NOTiH udu uOuc us
work. but he had hardly reckoned on
the strength of this man. With a
vast throe of fear he tried to free
himself. Tenser, tenser grew the
thongs; they strained, they bit into
his flesh. but they would not break.
Yet as he relaxed 1t seemed TO him
they were less tight. He made an
other giant effort. Once again he felt
the thongs strain and strain; then.
when he ceased, he imagined they
were still lOOser. e
The dogs seemed to have lost all
fear. They smelled the blood on his
head, and a SLAYER ran from their
jaws. Again he cursed them, but this
time they did not move. They seemed
to realize he could not harm them.
Again he tried to get free. Now he
fancied he could move his arm a lit
tie. He must hurry, for every instanf
the malamutes were growing holder
Another strain and q wrench. Ha he
was able to squeeze his right arm
from under the rawhide. Quickly he
wrenched out his other arm. He was
just in time, for the dogs were upon
him.
He struggled to his knees and
shielded his head with his arms. Wild.
ly he swung at the nearest dog. Full
on the face he struck it, and II shot
back as If hit by bullet. But the
others were on him. Two of them
were making for his face. AS he lay
on his back he gripped each by the
throat. In his grip of steel they strug.
gled TO free themselves in vain. With
his huge hands he was choking them.
choking them to death, using them
as a shield against the other three.
Then slowly he worked himself into a
sitting position. He hurled one of the
dogs to the tent door. He swung
bludgeOn blows at the others. They
fed yelping and bowling.
Then he rose and freed himself
from the remaining thongs. He was
torn and cut and bleeding, but he had
triumphed.
"Oh. the devil =" he grOwled, grind
Ing his teeth. He's taken everything,
the scum left me to starve. Ha! one
ching he's forgotten-the matches. At
least | can keep warm"
He picked up the canister of matches
and relit the stove.
"Ill kill him for this" he muttered.
might and day I'll follow him. I'll
camp on his trail till l find him Then
I'll torture him; I'll strip him and
leave him naked in the snow"
He slipped into his snowshoes gave
a last look around to see that no food
had been left, and with a final growl
of fury he started in pursuit
He had a thought of capturing the
dogs and hitching them up; but, thor.
oughly terrified, they had retreated
into the woods. To overtake this man.
to glut his lust for revenge, he must
depend on his own endurance.
So, with head bowed and shoulders
sloping forward, Jack Locasto darted
on the track Of the Worm.
He came to where the fugitive had
made camp. There were the ashes
of fire.
Course him; he's got some matches
after ALL" be said with bitter chagrin.
Eagerly he searched all around in the
snow to see If he could not find even
a crumb of food. There was nothing.
He pushed on. Night fell and he was
forced to make camp.
Oh, he was hungry! "lf only had
tin to boil water in" he muttered;
there's lots of reindeer moss. and /
could stew some Of my mucklucks.
All I'll try and roast bit of them"
He cut a strip from the Indian
boots he was wearing, and held it
over the fire. The hair singed away
and the corners crisped and charred.
He put it in his mouth. Ii was pleas
antly warm, but even his strong teeth
refused to meet in 1t. However, he
tore ii into smaller pieces, and bolted
them.
At last the dawn came, that evil,
sneaking, cOrpselike dawn, and Lo-
casio flung himself once more on the
trail. He was not feeling SO tit now
Hunger and loss of blood had weak
ened him so that his stride insensibIy
shortened, and his step had lost ITS
spring. However, he plodded on dog
gedly, an incarnation of vengeance
and hate.
Beyond a doubt he was growing
weaker. Once or twice he stumbled.
and the last time he lay few mo-
ments before rising. He wanted to
rest badly. Then night came and he
built another giant fire.
Again he bolted down some roasted
muckluck. He had to make tremen-
dOus efforts to keep from sleeping.
Several times he drowsed forward!
and almost fell into the fire. At dawn
the sky was leaden and the cold less
despotic. Stretching unfortunately
ahead was that lonely snowshoe trail
Locasto was puzzled.
where in creation Is the little
devil going to, anyway" he said,
knitting his brows. Il figured he'd
make direct for Dawson, but he's
either changed his mind or got
wrong steer. By Heavens. that's it
the little yarmint's lost his way"
Locasto had an Indians unerring
sense of location.
Il guess / can't afford to follow
him any more" be reflected. 1--WE
gone too far already. I'm all petered
out. I'll have to let him go in the
meantime. It's save yourself, Jack
LOcastO, while there's yet time. Me
for Dawson"
There was strange stiffness In
the mir, not the natural stiffness of
the Wild, but an unhealthy one, as OF
a suspension Of something, of a vacu-