United States or Christmas Island ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
They changed their moccasins and duffles and pulled on as night-wear long buffalo-skin boots, hood, mufflers, and fur mits. A heavy fur robe and a blanket were added. Into these last they snuggled down, wrapping themselves up so completely that a tenderfoot would have smothered for lack of air. Before they retired, they could hear the ice on the lake cracking like distant thunder.
She faced the fact squarely, though her cheeks blanched at the prospect and the heart inside her withered. From the sloping side of a hummock her foot slipped and she slid into the icy bog to her knees. Within a few minutes duffles and leggings were frozen and she was suffering at each step. Out of the muskeg they came into the woods. A flake of snow fell on Jessie's cheek and chilled her blood.
But if you try to bull this through your own way and don't let me run it, you're done for." "How done for?" The gambler did not answer. He turned to Jessie. "Unless you want your feet to freeze, you'd better get those duffles off." The girl took off her mits and tried to unfasten the leggings after she had kicked the snowshoes from her feet. But her stiff fingers could not loosen the knots.
Here they rested after supper, drying socks, duffles, and moccasins, which were wet with perspiration, before the popping fire. Beresford pulled out his English briar pipe and Tom one picked from the Company stock. Smoke wreathed their heads while they lounged indolently on the spruce bed and occasionally exchanged a remark. They knew each other well enough for long silences.
The girl followed at his heels, head down against the blast. Before this day she had not for months taken a long trip on webs. Leg muscles, called into use without training, were sore and stiff. In the darkness the soft snow piled up on the shoes. Each step became a drag. The lacings and straps lacerated her tender flesh till she knew her duffles were soaked with blood.
To satisfy this he had only to walk out of the house and leave her to an ugly fate. Why did he not do this? Was he playing a deep game of his own in which she was merely a pawn? She turned the steaming duffles over on the mud hearth to dry the other side. She drew back the moccasins and the leggings that the heat might not scorch them.
The free trader stooped and did it for her while West watched him sulkily. Jessie unwound the cloth and removed moccasins and duffles. She sat barefooted before the fire, but not too close. "If they're frozen I'll get snow," Whaley offered. "They're not frozen, thank you," she answered. "Whadjamean done for?" repeated West. His partner's derisive, scornful eye rested on him. "Use your brains, man.
West, revolver close at hand, cut thongs from the caribou skins. He tied his captive hand and foot, then removed his moccasins and duffles. From the fire he raked out a live coal and put it on a flat chip. This he brought across the room. "Changed yore mind any? Where's the girl?" he demanded. Onistah looked at him, impassive as only an Indian can be. "Still sulky, eh? We'll see about that."
Word Of The Day