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Updated: June 8, 2025
He was never tell me till yesterday; and then it was it was because I would not let him hang himself " "Hang himself?" stammered Lossing, "you don't mean " "Yes, he was hang himself, but I cut him, no I broke him down," said Thekla, accurate in all the disorder of her spirits; and forthwith, with many tremors, but clearly, she told the story of Kurt's despair.
Often enough, Lossing was exasperated to the point of taking the old man at his word and telling him to go if he would, but every time the chain of long habit, a real respect for such faithful service, and a keen admiration for Kurt's matchless skill in his craft, had held him back. He prided himself on keeping his word; for that reason he was warier of using it.
And just as Kurt's keen gaze traveled that far a big automobile rounded the bend, coming fast. He recognized the red color, the shape of the car. "Anderson's!" he cried, with that same lift of his heart, that bursting gush of blood. "No dream!... I see it!... And I'll stop it!" The advantage was all his.
His father was whispering to the proprietor over the desk, and at Kurt's touch he glared his astonishment. "You here! What for?" he demanded, gruffly, in German. "I had to see you," replied Kurt, in English. "Did it rain?" was the old man's second demand, husky and serious. "The wheat is made, if we can harvest it," answered Kurt. The blaze of joy on old Dorn's face gave Kurt a twinge of pain.
Murdock's opinion of his companion's ability underwent several upward revisions during that tour, and he began to believe that he was really in luck to have found such a partner. In the last room, Ross willingly followed Kurt's orders to put on the fur clothing Kurt passed to him. The fit was not exact, but he surmised that Kurt had chosen as well as possible.
Tears dimmed his eyes as he watched the swelling column of smoke. Bill was cursing, and Kurt gathered that the farm-hand was predicting fires all around. This was inevitable. But it meant no great loss for most of the wheat-growers whose yield had failed. For Kurt and his father, if fire got a hold in their wheat, it meant ruin. Kurt's sadness was burned out by a slow and growing rage.
Hardly aware of Nash's blows, Kurt tore at him, swung and choked him, bore him down on the bank, and there beat him into a sodden, bloody-faced heap. Only then did a cry of distress, seemingly from far off, pierce Kurt's ears. Miss Anderson was pulling at him with frantic hands. "Oh, don't kill him! Please don't kill him!" she was crying. "Kurt! for my sake, don't kill him!"
There was new eagerness in Kurt's voice, for he sensed that the other was wavering. "I have been preparing for a long time, but there must be two of us. We have to take turns driving the cat. There can be no rest until we are far to the south. I tell you it will be easy. There are food caches arranged along the route for emergencies. I have a map marked to show where they are. Are you coming?"
Out in the wilderness of the polar night he had had no chance for escape. Heading away from Kurt's rendezvous, Ross had run straight into the search party from the base, had seen in action that mechanical hound that Kurt had said they would put on the fugitives' trail the thing which would have gone on hunting them until its metal rusted into powder.
Then a swish in the wheat, a soft thud, very low, unmistakably came to Kurt's ear. He listened, turning his ear to the wind. Presently he heard it again a sound relating both to wheat and earth. In a hot flash he divined that some one had thrown fairly heavy bodies into the wheat-fields. Phosphorus cakes!
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