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Updated: August 3, 2024
He counted the marks on the door and found that there were sixteen. Just that many days ago Billy had set off with the dogs. If all had gone well he was a third of the way back, and within another week would be "home." Pelliter's thin, fever-flushed face relaxed into a wan smile as he counted the pencil marks again. Long before that week was ended he figured that he would be dead.
There was none for himself none of the sort which Pelliter was receiving, and the sickening loneliness within him grew almost suffocating. He laughed softly as he broke a law. He opened one of Pelliter's letters the last one written and calmly read it. It was filled with the sweet tenderness of a girl's love, and tears came into his red eyes. Then he sat down and answered it.
On that lining was something which drew him down close, and when the strange cry that fell from his lips drew Pelliter's eyes toward him he was staring down into Little Mystery's upturned face with the look of one who saw a vision. "Mother of Heaven!" he gasped, "she's " He caught himself, and smothered Little Mystery up close to him for a moment before he brought her to the sledge.
"Wake up, Pelly! Think of what's coming. Only a few months more of it, and we'll be changed. And then think of what a heaven you'll be entering. You'll be able to enjoy it more than the other fellows, for they've never had this. And I'm going to bring you back a letter from the little girl " Pelliter's face brightened. "God bless her!" he exclaimed. "There'll be letters from her a dozen of them.
Pelliter's arm was in a sling. His face was drawn and haggard and blackened by powder. He drew his revolver, emptied it of cartridges, and gave it to little Isobel to play with. He kept up his spirits among the Eskimos, but he made no effort to conceal his dejection now. "I've lost her," he said, looking at Billy. "You're going to take her to her mother?" "Yes." "It hurts.
Pelliter's light carriage with its pair of weedy, young horses stood hitched by the road above the Makimmon dwelling; and, on entering the house, Gordon found Clare in bed and Pelliter seated at her side. A gaily-patched quilt hid all but her head. She smiled at Gordon through her pale mask of suffering; but her greeting turned to swift concern at his battered countenance.
The bullet had passed through the fleshy part of his forearm, but had fortunately missed the main artery. With the quick deftness of the wilderness-trained surgeon Billy drew the wound close and bound it tightly with his own and Pelliter's handkerchiefs. Then he thrust Pelliter toward the sledge. "You've got to ride, Pelly," he said. "If you don't you'll go under, and that means all of us."
Those would be days of agony for himself as well as for her, and yet he would be near, always near, the woman he loved. And little Isobel would be safe in Rookie's cabin. If anything happened His hands gripped the edges of the sledge at the thought that leaped into his brain. It was Pelliter's thought. If anything happened to Isobel the little girl would be his own, forever and forever.
Listen!" He clutched Pelliter's arm as on a fresh burst of the wind there came the strange and terrible sound from out of the night. It was rapidly drawing nearer a wailing burst of savage voice, as if a great wolf pack had struck the fresh and blood-stained trail of game.
"Of course you're going back for her?" The other stared for a moment into Pelliter's flushed face, and then laughed as though he had just heard a good joke. "Not on your life, my boy. I wouldn't hike that thirty miles again an' thirty back for all the Eskimo women up at Wagner." The red in Pelliter's eyes grew redder as he leaned over the table. "See here," he said, "you're going back now!
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