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Updated: June 25, 2025
The cordiality in the Sheep King's voice was forced as he dragged her aboard; and in his curious looks, his constraint of manner, the sly glances and averted, grinning faces of his helpers inside, Dr. Harpe read her fate. "Your name," Essie Tisdale had said, "will be a byword in every sheep-camp and bunk-house in the country."
There was a silence, during which Mr. Bromley thoughtfully folded his copy and placed it in his pocket-book. "Thank you, Mr. Tisdale," he said finally, and rose once more. "You may not be called for several days but when you are, it is advisable that you have the original documents at hand. Good night." It was evident, after his interview with Hollis Tisdale, that Mr.
Then the cloud approaching the plateau spoke, and the curtain moving from the Columbia became a wall of doom, in which great cracks yawned, letting the light of eternity through. The girl was flying down the slope to meet Tisdale. She came with bent head, hands to her ears, skimming the pitfalls. Under her light tread the loose debris hardly stirred.
Tisdale, who was expected to furnish important testimony in the Alaska coal cases, had been served official notice at the hospital during Banks' visit. The trial was set for the twenty-fourth of March and in Seattle. The prospector had found him braced up in bed, and going over the final proof of his Matanuska report, with the aid of a secretary. "You better go slow, Hollis," he said.
His brown hair, close-cut, waved at the temples; lines were chiseled at the corners of his eyes and, with a lighter touch, about his mouth; yet his face, his whole compact, muscular body, gave an impression of youth youth and power and the capacity for great endurance. His friends said the north never had left a mark of its grip on Tisdale.
Tisdale folded the plan and sat holding it absently in his hands. His mind ran back from this final, elaborated copy to the first rough draft Weatherbee had shown him one night at the beginning of that interminable winter they had passed together in the Alaska solitudes. He had watched the drawing and the project grow.
Finally, when the lantern glimmered again, and she was able to distinguish the two returning figures, she had laid aside her hat and coat, and she was ready to smile, if not radiantly at least encouragingly, at Tisdale as he came up the steps.
"Impeach Hollis Tisdale," he added softly and laughed. Presently, as the chauffeur slackened speed, looking for a stand among the waiting machines at the depot, the attorney said: "If the syndicate sends Stuart Foster north to the Iditarod, he may be forced to winter there; that would certainly postpone the trial until spring."
The evening of the fourth day the attorney for the prosecution surprised Tisdale at his rooms. "Thank you," he said, when Hollis offered his armchair, "but those windows open to the four winds of heaven are a little imprudent to a man who lives by his voice. Pretty, though, isn't it?"
At the moment Tisdale discovered her, she was absorbed in a photograph she held in her hands, but at the sound of his step in the patio she turned and rose to meet him. Her face was radiant, yet she looked at him through arrested tears. "I am sorry if I startled you," he said conventionally. "Banks brought me from the station, but he left me to walk up the bench."
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