THE WAY OF THE NORTH
 
 Historical Series 
 
 THE 
 
 WAY OF THE NORTH 
 
 A L A S K A Baranof 
 
 By 
 
 WARREN 
 
 New York 
 
 Doubleday, Page & Company 
 1906
 
 Copyright, 1905, by 
 
 Doubleday, Page & Company 
 
 Published, March, 1905
 
 s 
 
 S 
 
 C 
 
 V-
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 AFTER PAGB 
 
 I ... 3 
 
 II 16 
 
 III 27 
 
 IV 37 
 
 V 57 
 
 VI 70 
 
 VII 85 
 
 VIII 94 
 
 IX 108 
 
 X 123 
 
 XI 135 
 
 XII 148 
 
 XIII 165 
 
 XIV 183 
 
 XV 192
 
 CONTENTS Continued 
 
 CHAPTER PAG 
 
 XVI 211 
 
 XVII 231 
 
 XVIII ........ 246 
 
 XIX 266 
 
 XX 279 
 
 XXI 296 
 
 XXII 308
 
 LIST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 ALEXANDER ANDREIEVITCH BARANOF, Commander of 
 the Alaskan Posts 
 
 FEDOR KIRILOVITCH DELAROF, a doctor 
 
 ALEXEI YEGOROVITCH SOOKIN, Lieutenant under 
 Baranof 
 
 JOASSAF PETROVITCH, a priest of the Russian Church 
 
 ANNA MARYA GARIN (ANNA GREGOROVNA), betrothed 
 to Lieutenant Sookin 
 
 MARFA EKATERINA (MARFA ALEXANDROVNA), 
 daughter of Baranof 
 
 GREGOR IVANOVITCH GARIN, father of Anna 
 
 PAUL ALEXANDROVITCH, Baranof s son 
 
 MARYA ANDREIEVNA, Marfa s aunt 
 
 PETER NICOLAIEVITCH, an under-officer 
 
 POTAP BURIKOF, and LIZA, his wife, Russian im 
 migrants 
 
 DMETRI LEROKEN, ARSENI KUZNETZOF, VASILI 
 SHAPKIN, IVAN ZAVIALOF, soldier-hunters 
 
 SHAKMUT, NIKTA, PARKA, Alaskan natives
 
 THE WAY OF THE NORTH
 
 THE WAY OF THE NORTH 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE cabin floor being now more level, I walked 
 up and down along the tables to stretch my 
 legs and stir somewhat to life the sluggish cur 
 rent of my blood. There are few things more bitter 
 than the forced inaction of waiting below hatches while 
 the ship wears out a storm. Under their brightest 
 guise these northern waters have much about them to 
 terrify the heart. There is something sombre, wild, and 
 menacing in their calmness, and always a so inhuman 
 silence in the air that the very lack weighs on the spirit 
 like a sense of evil felt. One seems so utterly alone 
 the only living thing in all this treacherous expanse. 
 
 So, even while the skies were fair, it was with a dis 
 tinct feeling of relief that I had welcomed the gathering 
 clouds and the freshening of the wind that brought the 
 storm upon us. Life has no actual experience of danger 
 that is for a moment comparable to the heart-sickness 
 of its anticipation, and the singing of the ropes, the 
 sharp orders of the officers in charge, the bustle of 
 orderly haste in taking in the canvas, steadied my soul 
 and stirred a curious sense of lightness in my heart. 
 
 "The world moves," I said, as I stood by the rail and 
 watched the whip of the spume from the crests of the 
 racing waves and the increasing slant of the ship as she 
 drove her nose down into the ever-deepening hollows. 
 
 3
 
 4 The Way of the North 
 
 That night the sun set far astern without its usual pomp 
 of colour, letting down its round disc naked into the 
 sea. There was no more warmth in its light than there 
 was in the sallow background of cloud that hung behind 
 it and seemed momentarily lifted higher above our 
 heads. The last thing I saw as I turned to go below 
 was the wind-blown figure of the man at the helm sil 
 houetted against the western whiteness and bent like a 
 distressed cypress as he held us to our course. Had I 
 been older or more seasoned, I should have seen in 
 these things the sinister presentiment of the trouble that 
 was to come. But for the moment there only came to 
 me the feeling that there were things doing in earth and 
 air and sky, and my heart warmed to them in sym 
 pathy, through sheer impatience of the sluggish life. 
 
 But death itself is not more certain than that a man 
 will change his mind. I had thought myself well 
 pleased with the promise of the storm, and, in retiring, 
 endured with even humour the roll and tossing of the 
 berth. But with the night my inclination turned, and I 
 yearned as strongly for the quiet of the sunshine and the 
 level sea, as before I had cried out at fate for setting 
 them around me. 
 
 For who could have foreseen the mist that set in with 
 the dawn a mist so thick and smothery that it choked 
 and clung like a wet cloth drawn ? I could scarce see 
 my hand at arm s length before me; the sailors at their 
 posts faded into mere shadowy ghosts; while the voice 
 of the lookout at the bow quavered back to us so thin 
 and muffled that it was like a call from another world. 
 Yet the fog offered small hindrance to the roaring wind; 
 and from the top it leaked so like a sieve that the rain 
 came through in mighty sheets and gusts.
 
 The Way of the North 5 
 
 There is much to disquiet in the thought of thus 
 driving madly and blindly through the world; and the 
 more so when to the irk of mind is added the natural 
 disquietude of body that comes with confinement under 
 decks. I have not the preacher s fear of death and 
 have faced it cheerfully and with a steady front. But 
 I have ever prayed that at the last it would come to me 
 fairly, in the open, where I could meet it with head up 
 and arms free to guard. These four shifting walls 
 have \veighed on my spirits like a coffin closed. I have 
 never had a stomach for being smothered like a rat 
 drowned in a trap. Two days of it would take the 
 fettle out of any man, and nearly twice that time I have 
 been prisoned here. 
 
 And the vexation works the stronger in me that by 
 chance I have had my fall with it alone. The pope, 
 bold-faced enough when skies were clear, paled like a 
 girl when the wind shook up our coffin box and let the 
 courage so ooze out of him that at last he sat him down 
 on the floor the better to hold his swimming head. 
 Motion brings to me no dizzy qualms, and I strove 
 patiently both with threats and jeers to rebuff his malady 
 and lift him from dejection. But with the shameless- 
 ness toward correction which marks the sick at sea, he 
 harkened to me with but lack-lustre eyes and languid 
 smile, and ended by selfishly leaving me alone while he 
 carried his green face incontinently away to the shelter 
 of his own room ; since when I have had no word of his 
 condition. 
 
 That there has been sharp danger in our situation I 
 am as well convinced as if I had been told. It has 
 spoken in the groaning of the ship s timbers as they bent 
 and stretched beneath the shock of the waves; it has
 
 6 The Way of the North 
 
 lurked in the stagger of the helpless hull when the water 
 poured over her decks and she wallowed in the bubbly 
 smother like some desperate drowning thing; it has 
 come to me with each sickening drop down the steep 
 hollows of the waves, and I have felt it go up before me 
 as the ship steadied for the climb of their dizzy rise. 
 
 Yet such premonitions are reputed solely of the body 
 and look not to the reason for their confirmation. It 
 was not these but other happenings which stayed in my 
 mind and fixed this thought of peril on it with a lasting 
 sense of shock. The first of these occurrings is that the 
 captain himself has lost heart through his fear and has 
 given the whole ship over to destruction. 
 
 This is a Thursday, as I have been able to mark the 
 lagging days. It should be yesterday, therefore 
 which was Wednesday and near to noon, that he 
 burst into the cabin, along with a great gust of wind and 
 vain, and stood against the table to catch his breath, 
 while they clapped to the door and fastened it speedily 
 behind him. The cool air was like wine in that barrel 
 of a place, but it was not so cold as the comfort I 
 gathered from his face. 
 
 If ever a man was in mortal terror, it was that man 
 as he stood. His mouth was blue and drawn and he 
 shivered steadily in his wet clothes. His eyes were 
 fixed on that which had no being outside of his mind, 
 and though I spoke to him, he answered not, and I had 
 faith to believe I did not come at all within his ken. He 
 stood for a full minute balancing himself and steadying 
 his nerves, and then, with the same unseeing look ahead, 
 groped his way blindly along the table until he gained 
 his private room. I saw the door close and heard the 
 key click behind him, and since then, like the pope, he
 
 The Way of the North 7 
 
 has made no conscious sign. But, in the quieter 
 moments of the storm, I have fancied I have caught 
 from him within the alternate gurgle of his bottle and 
 the murmur of his prayers. 
 
 The other occurrence which has given colour to my 
 squeamish thought is that, since the first closing of the 
 hatches, there has been no attempt by any one to furnish 
 us with food. Yet I had not suffered with hunger, for 
 there are still on the table the remains of the last full 
 meal the steward placed there, and while I have eaten 
 as the need spoke in me, my appetite has been at no 
 time over sharp. But there must have been large 
 difficulty in entrance which is danger in itself or 
 else, as is more probable, the profound conviction on 
 the part of the cook that we were so far doomed that it 
 made no difference whether we went to death hungry 
 or full, that we have been left so long and continuously 
 unserved. 
 
 As I look back on it, I do not think that I have been 
 at any time particularly afraid. In truth, I cannot 
 remember that through it all I have had much time 
 to think. The writers are agreed that mortal danger 
 brings up unasked to a man s eye the sudden picture 
 of his past deeds and life. But it was not so with me. 
 I have cursed some as the mood struck me, and have 
 thought of places where I would better like to be. But 
 when I was not asleep, I was so greatly taken up with 
 holding to my place and guessing in what direction next 
 this floating box would roll, that I have had small time 
 for mental inquiry. 
 
 To this one weakness, however if it be a weakness 
 I will honestly confess. At the peril of my bones, I 
 have kept the light burning before the holy pictures on
 
 8 The Way of the North 
 
 the forward partition wall. Not that I felt the need 
 of cozening God and drawing from Him special favour 
 in this my time of fear. If there be a God, my conceit 
 is that, as with men, His favour goes to the petitioner 
 that shows the stoutest heart. To him that hath, is 
 given; not to those weaklings whose constant and only 
 refuge is to beg. 
 
 So it was rather that, lacking human sympathy, I 
 found a friendly sense of companionship in the per 
 formance of the service. And then, too, the difficulty 
 of its doing piqued my stubborn sense of pride. The 
 lamp fat is thick and sluggish, but in the stress of 
 motion the full cup spilled and drowned the wick so 
 many times that I was in despair. Once, also, I slipped 
 in the drip of oil upon the floor and, catching wildly, 
 well-nigh brought the whole thing down about my 
 head. But finally I bethought me of the device of 
 leaving the lamp unfilled, the plate and wick resting 
 on but a thin scum of grease against the bottom. This 
 proved a proper means of keeping it alight, but brought 
 me continuous labour in the introduction of new oil 
 beneath the plate to keep it fed. 
 
 It was natural, therefore, that with the sinking of the 
 storm I should promptly turn to the restoring of the 
 feed of the lamp to its ordinary and wonted supply. 
 The oil jar was ready to my hand, though I saw rue 
 fully enough that there was already grease enough on 
 my clothes and feet to supply a reasonable season of the 
 burning. I was so taken up with my thoughts and 
 with the task of renovation that I failed to see that the 
 pope came out of his room, and did not hear him till he 
 spoke to me. 
 
 "While the priest sleeps, the sinner tends the altar,"
 
 The Way of the North 9 
 
 he said with a smile. "It was a fine thing, Fedor, but 
 I did not expect it of you. Were you, then, so very 
 much afraid?" It vexed me for a moment that he 
 should gird at me, and I answered him across my 
 shoulder without turning. 
 
 "It is my custom," I said somewhat grimly, "to take 
 no chances where fortune gives me the power to load 
 the dice. If the thing is true, I want Him with me; if 
 it is not, there is no harm done." My cynicism sobered 
 him, and he made an involuntary motion of deprecation 
 with his hands. 
 
 "It is true," he said impulsively, "and I was wrong 
 in speaking as I did. I meant simply that it is the strong 
 faith that prevails with Him, and not the mere work of 
 the hand." I turned and pointed to the closed door 
 at the stern. 
 
 "Faith be it, then," I answered, "and yonder is your 
 company, not here." His eye followed the gesture and 
 then came back to me in puzzled questioning. 
 
 "The captain?" he queried hesitatingly. 
 
 "Ay, the captain. Since yester noon he has wholly 
 eschewed works, and in retirement there has given him 
 self entirely up to prayer." He still stood looking from 
 the door to me in startled inquiry. 
 
 "But the direction of the ship?" he stammered. 
 
 "So full of faith is he," I answered mockingly, "that 
 he has left it wholly in the hand of God ! " 
 
 "The coward!" he burst out indignantly; and then 
 I laughed. I love the pope and would not wrongly 
 cross him, but it is not often I have the chance to check 
 mate him so completely. 
 
 "Joassaf," I said wickedly, "with which of us two 
 sinners will you place your hope of salvation from this
 
 to The Way of the North 
 
 storm with the captain and his faith, or with me who 
 has served God wholly with his hands ? " I might have 
 known I could not corner him. He shrugged his 
 shoulders and smiled as one would set aside the ques 
 tion of a child. 
 
 "God is good," he said simply, "and perhaps in 
 spite of both of you we may yet see quiet days." Then 
 with a return to his usual manner: "There are other 
 things now that draw me much more strongly than 
 theology. Have you anything here to eat ? " His eyes 
 were sharp and eager and roamed with hungry interest 
 over the confusion of the dishevelled board. I thought 
 of his long fast, and my heart softened toward him. 
 
 "There was a fish pasty that was not so bad," I 
 said, " if we can find it. Ah, there it is on the floor by the 
 table. And when I find a cup I think you can count on 
 getting a portion of cold tea." His face brightened 
 at the prospect. 
 
 "The pasty will do well," he said, lifting it to the 
 table as if it were some precious thing. "But I am so 
 old a man that cold tea sits unkindly on my stomach. 
 Let us have the steward bring us a portion that is 
 fresh." 
 
 "Steward!" I exclaimed, "I have not seen the 
 steward for three days. And as for going out, the 
 hatches are still battened." The priest sighed and sat 
 him down in silent discontent. 
 
 "I will try the pasty," he said with dignity, as if 
 in some way I was responsible for his discomfort ; " and 
 I will drink the tea, though I know it will make a 
 schism in my stomach." 
 
 But he forgot his annoyance in the pleasure of the 
 meal and ate steadily in silence. I served him faith-
 
 The Way of the North n 
 
 fully, and as he sucked his sugar lump and sipped the 
 bitter tea I fell to wondering what could have so 
 changed his life and sent him as a missionary out to this 
 savage land. I had known him as the pope of my native 
 village when I was a boy. It was he who held me up 
 for baptism, and I had received my first communion 
 at his hand. He had been loved by my father before 
 me, and his slender figure in its close -buttoned surtout 
 was a familiar object in our daily life. I had known 
 him always as a man upright and severe in conduct, 
 who seldom drank except at weddings, was not given to 
 haggling over his funerals, and who was singularly 
 free from the other ordinary vices of the clergy. He 
 was ever a kindly man and loved by his flock as if they 
 had been his blood relations all. Not a child was born 
 but he was first after its mother to look into its eyes; 
 and his sorrowful face was the last thing that most of 
 them took in as they shut those eyes for the last time 
 on this world. He had seemed so much a part of the 
 place that it was a shock at first to find him on the 
 ship and know him wandering so wide of home. Con 
 sidering these things in my mind, the impulse came to 
 me as it had often done before to ask him of the change. 
 
 "Joassaf Petrovitch," I said, "why have you left 
 Kargopol and comfort to bury your bones in this God 
 forsaken land?" He had finished with his meal and, 
 slid down in his chair in an attitude of repose, was con 
 tentedly taking snuff. For the moment he did not 
 answer; but when he did speak, it was with pensive 
 impersonality, as if he had forgotten me entirely and 
 was talking to himself. 
 
 "Why, yes," he said, "I suppose that is so. I shall 
 never go back to Russia. I had not thought of it before."
 
 12 The Way of the North 
 
 "But why did you come at all," I persisted. He 
 wakened from his reverie and straightened himself in 
 his chair. Then with his quiet smile he answered my 
 question with another, 
 
 "Fedor," he said, "why did you leave Okhotsk?" 
 The inquiry was unepxected and I felt the blood surge 
 in my cheeks. 
 
 "You have no right to ask me that!" I said indig 
 nantly. 
 
 "But did you come of your own free will?" 
 
 "You know the story," I said hotly. "I did not 
 mean to kill the man. He was a Chuckchi. I beat 
 him to make him keep his place. He came at me 
 with a knife, and it was his life or mine." 
 
 "But the governor did not think so," he persisted, 
 "and so you came." I could have struck him where 
 he sat for very bitterness of shame; but when it came 
 to the fact there was no denying it. 
 
 "Yes," I said sullenly, "if you will have it, that is 
 the truth." This time his smile had in it a touch of 
 gentle deprecation. He leaned forward and laid his 
 hand on mine. 
 
 "I was not judging you, Fedor," he said with sym 
 pathetic pressure. "But now you may understand 
 that I, too, came not altogether of my own free will." 
 My annoyance passed in astonishment at his answer. 
 
 "I do not believe it," I said impetuously. "You 
 never did a wicked or lawless thing in all your life." 
 He was pleased with the compliment and my enthu 
 siasm, and his hand took firmer grip of mine. 
 
 "But the pressure was there just the same," he con 
 tinued earnestly, "though it differed in its kind. The 
 call came to me to go, and I had no choice but to
 
 The Way of the North 13 
 
 obey. I loathe the Indians, I loathe the hardships of 
 the life, I have left behind me everything that I love, 
 but God willed it, and I came." 
 
 My heart cried out at the injustice of the matter, for 
 I have small sympathy with such delusions as that 
 which held him in its grip. But his sincerity checked 
 the bitter word that waited on my lips, and I passed at 
 once to a conclusion. 
 
 "Well," I said impatiently, "I trust if you ever see 
 Him that sent you, He will give you a valid reason for 
 the sacrifice ! " The old man rose to his feet and stood 
 before me. His face was lit with a sort of ecstasy of 
 wistfulness, and he was so swallowed up in his dream 
 of faith that for the moment he forgot entirely where 
 he was. I at least dropped outside of his consciousness, 
 though he still held my hand clasped tight in both of 
 his. 
 
 "If I see Him!" he repeated softly. "Fedor, I shall 
 see Him and I shall know! If I did not believe it I 
 would not care to live a day. Not a day " he re 
 peated softly, and in his excitement his eyes grew large 
 and his breath came in irregular little sobs. He was 
 a picturesque figure as he stood there in his gray gown 
 and dishevelled hair, with the conviction of his con 
 secration so firmly on him. I felt a dislike for break 
 ing in upon his mood, and so was silent; but when I 
 could, I gently drew away my hand. He remained for 
 some minutes possessed by his vision and talking softly 
 and unintelligibly to himself. The interruption of 
 natural circumstances that brought him back came 
 not from me, but from the outside world. 
 
 For, while we stood, there came to us the rattle and 
 scrape of the hatches as they were removed and the
 
 i 4 The Way of the North 
 
 welcome sound of human noise above. The door 
 opened and the steward came hurriedly down the 
 stairs. It was on the point of my tongue to berate him 
 soundly for his long defection, and truly he deserved 
 the strong bestowal of my wrath; but he waited not 
 for me to speak up and begin. 
 
 "The captain!" he said breathlessly as he reached 
 the cabin floor. I pointed to the bolted door. He 
 went swiftly across to it, tapped respectfully and called. 
 There was no answer and he called again. Then, as 
 no response came to his repeated knockings, he began 
 to shout, and hammer on the panels with both hands. 
 I watched him from under my eyebrows with a grow 
 ing sense of amusement. 
 
 "Tell him you are the Angel Gabriel, man," I called 
 sardonically; "that he is dead, and that you have come 
 to fetch him. That is what he is waiting for, and I 
 doubt if anything short of it will bring him out." He 
 ceased his efforts and came back to where we stood. 
 
 "It is very bad," he said anxiously. "They are 
 fighting forward and it may be murder if he does not 
 come." 
 
 "Who are fighting?" I asked. 
 
 "It is the settlers. They have been four days 
 fastened down below decks and are more than ugly. 
 Gregor Ivanovitch Garin has been hurt and I fear 
 is like to die. He was the only doctor, and there is no 
 one else who knows." 
 
 "He should have attendance," I said at once. "I 
 have some knowledge of healing and have practised 
 
 it at need, and if there is no other to go " The 
 
 steward turned to me immediately. 
 
 "It can do no harm/ he said with evident relief.
 
 The Way of the North 15 
 
 "The man will die anyway if he gets no help." I 
 motioned to him to go, and he led the way up outside 
 to the air. The pope had not spoken in the interval, 
 but when we went out he followed close behind. I 
 have seen pictures of the last great resurrection and 
 noted the dead men rising from their graves; and when 
 we reached the deck of the ship and filled our lungs 
 with the pure air of heaven, I knew exactly what was 
 the first joy of those dead saints as they came up to 
 paradise.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE rain had stopped and so, too, the wind. The 
 ship lay with sails flapping in a sea that still rolled 
 heavily. But like a blanket the gray fog lay over every 
 thing and so changed and shrouded the familiar things 
 about us that our whole world kept a semblance weird 
 and strange. We picked our way cautiously over a 
 tangle of ropes and other sea toggery on the decks and 
 came to the forward hatch. I swung myself after the 
 steward down the steep companion ladder and reached 
 the floor of the hold below. As I landed, the pope s 
 lean legs were just above me, coming down. 
 
 For the moment the eye grasped no detail in the dull 
 and smoky light. The low room was simply one great 
 expanse of changing shadow. But as we gathered 
 power of concentration, groups of figures started out 
 of the darkness, coming unexpectedly one after another 
 like the trick settings in the scenes of a fairy play. Like 
 pieces of a heathen puzzle they changed and joined 
 and ran together, till at length I got a comprehensive 
 picture of the whole. 
 
 There were eighty of the poor creatures a third, 
 perhaps, being women and children shut in that 
 dreadful place; but as between man and woman there 
 was no difference that I could see in the quality of their 
 trouble and distress. I know not by what dream of 
 betterment Baranof had persuaded them to come on 
 this bitter journey, though there is no doubt his need 
 
 16
 
 The Way of the North 17 
 
 of them at Sitka was great. Yet, as I saw them 
 stretched in absolute abandon on the filth of the floor 
 or propped in stolid listlessness against the stalls and 
 stanchions, I felt that Baranof himself would in seeing 
 them have felt a twinge at heart that through him they 
 had come to such abject and utter misery. 
 
 Perhaps the thing that caught my attention most 
 strongly was the unusual silence of the place. From 
 the time we entered, no one spoke a word. Many of 
 the men sat stolidly and did not even follow us with 
 their eyes. But many others gazed at us with sullen 
 looks and followed us with their glances as we moved, 
 as if in fascination. There was something strange in 
 the quality of their regard, and I was increasingly con 
 scious that there was in it not only a natural surprise, 
 but also something of startled inquiry and suspicion. 
 But I wasted small time on the analysis and turned 
 me to the steward. 
 
 "Where is your sick man?" I said impatiently, my 
 voice echoing sharply in the silence. 
 
 "Yonder, sir," he answered, pointing toward the bow. 
 We made our way in that direction, avoiding as far as 
 possible to tread on the poor creatures under foot, for 
 they took no heed to get out of the way and scarcely 
 resented even that we stepped upon them. 
 
 At the extreme end was a circle of men standing. 
 They fell away at our approach, and beyond them on the 
 floor, against the wall, I discovered the patient we had 
 come to see. He lay with his head entirely in the shadow 
 of the corner, and his body limply doubled up against 
 the wall. The relaxation was so complete that I thought 
 him already dead. Respect or fear had kept the crowd 
 a decent distance from him and he seemed to be alone.
 
 i8 The Way of the North 
 
 I passed quietly across the intervening space and 
 bent beside him, feeling for his heart. But, almost as 
 I touched him, there was a sudden movement in the 
 shadow by the head, a flutter as of garments stirred, 
 and something like a small whirlwind swept out be- 
 between me and the sick man, throwing aside my 
 hands and overturning me suddenly on the floor. 
 
 My temper is not saintly at the best, and I got to my 
 feet with my teeth set and anger in my heart. I could 
 think of no explanation but that it was a jest these people 
 had thus put upon me; and I turned fiercely to the 
 circle of onlookers as I got upon my legs and listened 
 for the laugh I felt would surely come. 
 
 But to my astonishment there was no answering 
 cackle of appreciation and on no face did I descry the 
 expected grin of pleasure or approval. Instead, a 
 curious murmur, more like the inarticulate snarl of a 
 pack of beasts than anything human, ran round the 
 circle of close-pressed figures, and their faces showed 
 fierce-eyed and serious in the twilight of the place. 
 Evidently there was no humour for them in the mishap 
 that had befallen me. Yet either toward me or 
 toward something else, their manner was surely one of 
 bitter disapproval, and that, too, a dislike that had 
 much both of suspicion and menace in it. It was so 
 plain that my overthrow had not come from them 
 that I turned again toward the sick man for an ex 
 planation, and, so doing, came face to face w r ith the 
 cause of my discomfiture. 
 
 In the shadow at the man s head, where I had not 
 noticed her before, there was a young girl crouching. 
 It was too dark to see her face, but from her attitude I 
 knew she was waiting for me, bent for another spring.
 
 The Way of the North 19 
 
 I hesitated as I came forward and she rose to meet me, 
 stepping again between me and the man. She was a 
 slender creature, hardly yet of woman s height. Her 
 dress was disordered and on one shoulder, through a 
 long rent, the white skin showed plainly. Her hair 
 hung loosely about her face, and I could see her body 
 rise and fall with the intensity of her breathing. 
 
 She was a pathetic little figure as she faced me in 
 the dimness. She was evidently very much afraid and, 
 as she watched me, her eyes had the brightness and 
 shifty intensity of a hunted animal s. One hand was 
 held behind her, and with the other in self-conscious 
 effort at concealment she again and again lifted up the 
 torn flap of her dress, which as continually slipped 
 away. If I had stopped to think, I should have been 
 more kindly in my speech, but I was still shaken by 
 the fall, and the words came hotly. 
 
 "Stand aside, you fool!" I said sharply. "What is 
 the matter?" It seemed at first as if she would not 
 answer, for she faced me dumbly, though without 
 moving, and with her hunted eyes fixed steadily on my 
 face. But it was excitement rather than stubbornness 
 that bound her speech, for presently her mouth began 
 to quiver and I could hear the frightened intake of her 
 breath. Her lips moved drily as she tried to speak, 
 and when the words came they were so low they scarcely 
 carried out to where I stood. 
 
 "Can you not wait and let him die in peace?" she 
 said fiercely. She was so distraught that it seemed but 
 wise to humour her delusion. 
 
 "Of a certainty," I said, "he is not at peace now. 
 It may be if I see him he will not die at all." She 
 heard me though she did not appear to listen, and for
 
 20 The Way of the North 
 
 the moment her face was a shade less tragic in its 
 fear. 
 
 "Who are you?" she said more audibly. 
 
 "I am a physician," I answered, "and was sent for 
 to assist this man." She glanced up at me with new 
 suspicion, and her face went back to its old expression 
 of despair. 
 
 "Why do you lie to me?" she said brokenly. "My 
 father was the only doctor on the ship." My temper 
 rose again, and for the moment I lost my head. 
 
 "This is nonsense!" I said impatiently, and took 
 a step forward. Then, as suddenly, I stopped. For, 
 while for a moment she shrank visibly at the advance, 
 as instantly she recovered herself again and waited 
 defiantly for me to come. Her hand came out slowly 
 from behind her back, and as she raised it I saw she 
 had in it a knife. 
 
 "You shall not kill him!" she cried hoarsely, and 
 her voice was scarce above a whisper. "You shall 
 not ! " There was a silence between us for the moment, 
 and through it I heard again the inarticulate snarl of 
 baffled purpose from the ring of men behind me. I 
 cursed myself for being so unreasonable. 
 
 "Who wants to hurt him!" I burst out roughly. 
 "We are not enemies but friends." The girl s manner 
 softened toward me again, and her trembling came back 
 and she shook as if she had an ague. She looked 
 from me to the gaping crowd behind me. 
 
 "Ask them! "she said with a bitter laugh. I turned 
 upon them sharply. 
 
 "Who of you," I demanded, "has been harrying 
 this woman to her fear?" There was no answer. I 
 had addressed no particular one, and they simply
 
 The Way of the North 21 
 
 gathered more closely together and spoke in sullen 
 whispers among themselves. I looked them over with 
 minuter care. The most of them had come direct from 
 Russia, and with them a stranger s word would make 
 but small appeal. But at the left I saw a man whom 
 I had seen before. He was a joiner of wood and at 
 Okhotsk had been much concerned about the shipping. 
 
 "Dmetri Leroken," I said imperiously, at the same 
 time beckoning to him with my hand, "stand out, 
 man, and tell me what has happened to these people 
 and why you hold them here?" The man did not 
 relish the distinction thus thrust upon him and would 
 have shrunk back farther out of sight. His comrades, 
 however, were wholly glad to yield to him the privilege 
 and encouraged him, all unwilling, and pushed him out. 
 He was a sturdy rascal, with no garment but a gray 
 svitka that was already full of holes. He stood there, 
 first looking down at the floor and then shiftily up at 
 me, and did not say a word. 
 
 "Out with it!" I cried impatiently. "What has this 
 man done?" 
 
 "He is a heretic," he said at last sullenly, "a Roman 
 ist, and an enemy of God s Church." Before I could 
 speak, like an antiphonal chorus in a play I heard the 
 girl s clear voice behind me. 
 
 "It is not true!" she said indignantly. "He was a 
 good man and has the true cross hanging now about his 
 neck." The man shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "It may be so," he said simply, "but he was different. 
 And then," he added, as if the fact of the blemish were 
 a damning proof, "there is a black mole on his left 
 cheek." 
 
 I have small patience with doings that draw their
 
 22 The Way of the North 
 
 vital sanction out of superstition. There is enough 
 of real trouble that binds us in this life without increas 
 ing it by the needless fear of what we do not under 
 stand. 
 
 "You fool," I said coldly, "and what business is it 
 of yours if he is every thing you say ? Did you expect 
 to make a better man of him because you broke his 
 head?" The circle behind Leroken was growing un 
 easy, and he himself stood picking nervously at the holes 
 of his svitka and shifting his w r eight upon his feet. 
 
 "He fell and hurt himself," he said slowly. His head 
 was sunk down sheepishly on his breast and he did not 
 raise his eyes. Again, as an echo to his accusation, 
 I heard behind me the girl s indignant voice. 
 
 "They would have thrown him overboard!" she 
 cried. "He fell yes, but it was because he was struck 
 and thrown!" Her words stirred up again to life all 
 the prejudice and superstitious fear that Leroken had 
 been struggling against and keeping down. He 
 straightened himself to his full height and threw out 
 his hands impetuously before him. 
 
 "Then why did he make the storm?" he demanded 
 savagely. "Shall we all drown because there is a here 
 tic aboard ? It was his life or ours! " A growing mur 
 mur of assent went round the excited group. They 
 stirred restlessly in their places and I could see that the 
 time for parley had slipped quite away. Their leaders 
 while we spoke had been passing from one to the other 
 behind the line, and it was plain they had determined 
 what to do. Two men came out upon the right and 
 two upon the left and moved silently forward to the 
 wall. Four more stepped out from the centre bight 
 and arranged themselves in front of me, side by side.
 
 The Way of the North 23 
 
 They were brawny fellows all, and it was no pleasant 
 sight to see them as they stood there ready for the 
 rush. 
 
 At the first move, I had fallen back till my feet were 
 against the old man s body. There could be but one 
 outcome to the fight, I knew, but my blood was up and 
 I should have hated myself for any thing that would have 
 been desertion of his cause. As we stood there waiting, 
 there was a twitch at my elbow and I felt rather than 
 saw, for I did not dare to take my eyes from the mur 
 derous crew before me, that the girl put something into 
 my hand. 
 
 "It is the knife," she whispered pantingly, but when 
 I dared to look, she was back in the corner by the head. 
 I felt a thrill of exultation at the contact, both at her 
 trust in giving me the weapon and that, now, in the 
 fray, I could be more sure of rendering good account. 
 
 "Stand back!" I said as I raised the weapon where 
 it could be seen. " He who comes will have to take the 
 measure both of me and this; and, mark you, if one of 
 us is killed, there will be hanging when Baranof gets his 
 fingers on you in America!" 
 
 The bravado held them for a moment and that mo 
 ment was our salvation. For while we stood, and 
 before the signal came, there was a stir at the centre 
 of the group, the rioters stood aside and through the 
 opening came Joassaf Petrovich in the full dignity 
 of his clerical robes. In his right hand was the 
 brush, and in his left was balanced a steadily slopping 
 bowl of holy water. I had missed him early in 
 the fray, and now surmised that at the first hint of 
 heresy he had taken fire and had gone to array him 
 self in his proper ecclesiastical armour. He paused
 
 24 The Way of the North 
 
 between us and the crowd and, turning, lifted up 
 his hand. 
 
 "Children," he said, in his soft, even voice, "can 
 you not trust God, that, unadvised, you take it on your 
 selves to act thus harshly in His name ? Even if this 
 man were God s enemy, how would it please Him, or 
 make Him turn to you, that you add his murder to your 
 sins? It was the devil and not God that put it in 
 your hearts. Do you want the proof?" he asked, his 
 voice rising till it filled the whole room like a bell. " Go 
 and look for it outside. The storm is over. Do you 
 hear? If this man s malice brought the evil down, 
 God has punished him and we are still safely in His 
 care. Why do you stay in this place when outside 
 there is life and hope and air? As for the devils that 
 remain, leave them, as many of you have done before, 
 to me." 
 
 He ceased speaking and, turning, began walking up 
 and down across the room, sprinkling holy water 
 from his brush and chanting the service for the casting 
 out of evil spirits, as I had seen him do many times 
 before at home. The men gave way before him and 
 he pushed them quietly back. But they waited rever 
 ently with outstretched finger-tips to take the drop from 
 his proffered brush, and each time one did so he 
 stopped his service with magnificent forgetfulness of 
 the murder in their hearts, and blessed them one and 
 all. 
 
 Thus left to myself I turned in belated succour to the 
 injured man, and this time no one said me nay. The 
 girl had sunk on her knees in the corner and sat watch 
 ing me with a stony face. The stress of conflict she 
 had undergone had sapped completely the resources of
 
 The Way of the North 25 
 
 her strength. She leaned in utter weariness against the 
 wall and gave herself up wholly to her grief. Her hands 
 lay limply in her lap, and even the torn flap of her dress 
 hung shamelessly down without her notice. 
 
 I turned the man on his back and straightened out 
 his limbs. There were bruises on his body and the 
 fingers of one hand were broken. He was still alive, 
 but had been long unconscious. There was an ugly 
 wound at the back of his head, and around it I could 
 feel that the bone was bent and crushed. The girl 
 followed me through every thing with her appealing eyes. 
 When I had done, she turned them fixedly on my face 
 in wistful inquiry. I understood what she wanted 
 and did not wait for her to speak. 
 
 "It is too late," I said gently. "It is only a question 
 of time when he will die." For a moment she did not 
 move, except that her eyes went away from me and 
 everything and she sat gazing unseeingly at the 
 wall. Then the tears began to run quietly down her 
 cheeks, and as the relief of them worked their spell in 
 her, she let herself slip down to the floor and lay in a 
 pitiful heap with her arms about her father s shoulders 
 and her face hid in his neck. 
 
 The pope had finished with his devil-driving and 
 came back to where I stood. He held out his brush to 
 me in invitation, but my thought was not yet keyed to 
 heavenly things and my hand stayed unresponsive 
 at my side. He was not to be put off, however, and 
 coming closer touched me gently with the brush above 
 the eyes. 
 
 "It will not hurt you, Fedor," he said with more 
 emotion than I was wont to see him show, "and I am 
 not sure but this day God has made it the means of
 
 26 The Way of the North 
 
 saving your life." He turned from me to the prostrate 
 girl, and, bending, placed his hand upon her head. 
 
 "Poor child!" he said, and then again, "poor 
 child!" Then straightening himself, he spoke to me.: 
 
 "Can you carry him alone, Fedor? It will not do 
 to leave him here." I beckoned to the steward who 
 still stood near at hand, and we lifted the wounded man 
 from the floor. The way was clear and no man forbade 
 us, and in this way we went up and out of the un 
 wholesome and dreary place: the steward first, who 
 held the sick man s feet; and I behind him closely, 
 holding up his head; then the girl, still weeping, but 
 failing not to keep jealously near at hand; and lastly 
 the pope, sailing from side to side till his skirts trailed 
 out like a strutting bird, sprinkling the holy water and 
 keeping up to the last the cheerful patter of his prayers.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 GREGOR IVANOVITCH GARIN died this morning at 
 the hour we should have seen the sun. It is so bleak 
 and chill, and the fog hangs so starkly over everything, 
 that I am of the opinion that if I myself were a ghost 
 about to pass, I should strive to hold to my warm body 
 and not die, rather than venture out uncased in such an 
 air. And truly the man did not seem to want to go. 
 
 We brought him to the after cabin and laid him on a 
 long cushion on the floor. The steward, at my order,, 
 furnished a basin and stood to help me while I cleansed 
 the wound. But the girl was disturbed in mind and 
 jealous of his service. She went from point to point 
 about us like an uneasy ghost, straightening the man s 
 dress and easing the posture of his limbs, and ended by 
 pushing in between the steward and his task and 
 taking the cloth and basin to herself. 
 
 She had ceased her crying and was decently composed, 
 so I made no strong demur. I kept my mind, however, 
 severely on her demeanour, for it disturbs me to have 
 women about me who always weep. But this one, 
 either through natural fortitude of will or courage 
 born of her affection, gave her whole mind steadily 
 to her task and bent herself deftly and intelligently to 
 my direction. Yet I saw her face whiten at the touch 
 of blood, and when I would have thrown away the long 
 hair clipped from about the wound, she made bold to 
 check me and, taking the disordered locks, cleansed 
 
 27
 
 28 The Way of the North 
 
 them carefully, dried them, and hid them in the bosom 
 of her dress. 
 
 When we had finished this, there was naught else to do 
 but lay the man back and wait patiently till he should 
 choose to go. It is an irony that when the soul has 
 said dimiltis and would resolve the fight, the body 
 should go on like a run-away machine without the 
 power to end its wasted use. Yet after all, perhaps it 
 is not more strange than that we should here be con 
 tent to drift in this fog, as we do, without aught save 
 the discretion of the elements and waves. 
 
 It was a brave fight the man made for his life a 
 night and a day and another night, almost, we watched 
 and waited before he consented and was gone. I 
 myself did not see him pass. The pope, the girl, and 
 I divided the watches as seemed fit among us, though 
 the girl would never have left the sick man for a moment 
 if we had given her her way. It was a strange thing 
 that we three should thus labour to a common end and 
 yet each be stirred thereto by such a different spur to 
 action. Pity aside, to me the man was but a surgeon s 
 case, no more, no less, and I ministered to him with 
 my skill because by all the rules he was entitled to 
 fair play in his fight with death. 
 
 The pope, true to his cloth, was most concerned 
 that he be made conscious and so be cleanly shrived 
 before he passed away. The word "heretic" heard in 
 the steerage lingered like a maggot in his brain, and 
 had he forgot the need of kindliness and sympathy 
 with the man as one oppressed, he would still, I think, 
 for the honour of the church, have yearned to confess 
 him and seal the sinner s right to salvation by drawing 
 from his own lips that he was yet in harmony with
 
 The Way of the North 29 
 
 God. He took his allotment of labour cheerfully 
 and puttered about like a friendly hen, striving in little 
 ways to add to our comforts and attending on the three 
 of us alike. But his thrifty clerical eye was always out 
 it was his business, I suppose for the moment which 
 should be the saving of a soul. And even in the night 
 when his watch was off, and he should have been asleep, 
 I saw him more than once steal eagerly out at some un 
 usual sound, tiptoe apologetically over to the patient, 
 and bend above him with wistful eagerness while he 
 listened for the sign of intelligence that would make 
 for him his opportunity. 
 
 The girl of course made duty of her love. She had 
 small heart for anything in life and sat for hours, dry- 
 eyed and silent, and watched her father s face. Some 
 times when he stirred, she touched him with her hand 
 and spoke to him softly as if he understood. Yet 
 hers was not a despairing grief. I could see that, 
 with the splendid courage of youth, because she hoped 
 the thing might be, her heart believed that there was 
 a chance he would not die. She talked little and we 
 respected her silence and left her to herself. They 
 brought a pallet for my use and spread it near at hand, 
 and so freed for her my room to which, for sleep or dress, 
 she might retire in maidenly seclusion. But never did 
 she go to it except with protest, and each time was back 
 before the space agreed. 
 
 The first night of vigil she sat at her father s head, 
 hour after hour, as white and still as if she were no 
 woman, but a marble mourner set upon his tomb. 
 It was outside of nature that she should be so still, and 
 I found an interest in watching her that was close to 
 fascination In the half darkness, with nothing to
 
 30 The Way of the North 
 
 busy my attention but my thoughts, I found myself fairly 
 counting between her stirrings as if it had been a game. 
 
 "Why," I asked finally, "do you tire yourself when 
 there is no need ? There is nothing to do but watch, 
 and in that duty we men here will not fail. Go to your 
 room and rest." She was startled from her reverie by 
 the sound of my voice coming so unexpectedly out of 
 the silence and looked at me with wide-opened eyes. 
 Then, as the meaning of what I had said worked 
 itself into her mind, the light died out again and she 
 sank back apathetically. 
 
 "I am not tired," she said dully, and relapsed into 
 the old silence. 
 
 "It is not nature then," I insisted, "for what has 
 come to you to-day would not in any other make for 
 rest." She shivered nervously at the recollection and 
 shook her head. 
 
 "I cannot," she said, and her lips quivered help 
 lessly. "If he should waken, he would need me; 
 and if he should die " she stopped and her voice 
 went almost to a whisper, but she gathered herself 
 again and finished bravely "if he should die, I would 
 not be away." 
 
 "He will not waken," I said quietly, but with de 
 cision, "and from my knowledge I do not think he will 
 die to-night." She caught hungrily at the crumb of 
 encouragement in the words. 
 
 "You think he will live?" she demanded, almost 
 fiercely. 
 
 "God knows!" I answered. "But he will not die 
 to-night." She watched me narrowly for some minutes 
 as if I held the secret of the man s recovery in my soul 
 and she would surprise it from me, and in the interval
 
 The Way of the North 31 
 
 she made up her mind. What I had said gave her 
 courage, and her animation returned. 
 
 "I will trust you," she said gravely, "and I will go. 
 But you will call me if there is need ? " I bowed in 
 acquiescence and stood for her to pass; and, rising, she 
 went by me to the room. But as she reached the 
 door she stopped uncertainly and then came back and 
 stood before me. 
 
 "You have been good to me," she said with feeling, 
 "and I want you to know that I am grateful." Her 
 hands were clasped in front of her and she bowed to 
 me with sober sweetness as she spoke. It struck me 
 suddenly that she was not the child I had thought her, 
 but almost a woman grown. The discovery embar 
 rassed me somewhat, and for the moment I did not 
 know what to say. And she gave me no time for 
 reflection, for, her courtesy ended, she turned and went 
 swiftly back. The door closed behind her and I saw 
 her no more that night. 
 
 The following day, despite the gloomy weather, I 
 spent the morning walking above decks. An hour of 
 the time I talked with the captain, who has recovered 
 from hie "indisposition," as he is pleased to call it, and 
 has again resumed command. The sea is down and 
 the fog yet holds, but there is a strange smell in the air 
 which the sailors tell me betokens that we are near to 
 land. It has stirred a yearning in me stronger than I 
 supposed was in my heart to feel. So long as landing 
 was impossible, I never gave it thought; but now that 
 the wind brings the earth-savour back to me, I am alive 
 from head to foot with impatience to tread again the 
 shore, and in deadly fear when I remember the terrors 
 of the sea. It would be an uncivil thing indeed of fate
 
 32 The Way of the North 
 
 to drown us now, after bringing us so near to our desire. 
 
 The captain questioned me concerning the happen 
 ings in the hold, and why the man was there on the 
 cabin floor to die. I told him all I knew about the mat 
 ter, and at the mention of heresy he piously crossed him 
 self and spat three times toward the east. I ques 
 tioned him, in turn, who the girl and her father were; 
 but he shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands 
 like a Jew. 
 
 "How should I know without looking?" he said. 
 "The herd came to me invoiced by number, like a load 
 of sheep. Who could distinguish among them a par 
 ticular yearling or a ram ? " 
 
 "It does not so greatly matter," I returned, "for the 
 man will surely die." 
 
 "I should like to have kept him till we get to Sitka," 
 he went on thoughtfully, "for Baranof will hold me 
 strictly to the full number of the list. But if he has to 
 go, encourage him to go without delay. It leans not 
 to good appetite to have a man dying by the table while 
 we sit to eat." 
 
 It was the pope s watch when we went below, and I 
 did not see the girl again till well-nigh night. Then I 
 found that she had gathered her hair smoothly and 
 restored to neatness the disorder of her dress. Quiet 
 and rest had wrought their spell with her condition, 
 and her manner, though subdued, had lost the tragic 
 quality I had found in it before. She greeted me with 
 out restraint, though there was nothing of the impulsive 
 warmth in her expression which had surprised me the 
 night before. 
 
 "You were right," she said quietly, "he is the same 
 to-day as he was last night." There was so much of
 
 The Way of the North 33 
 
 surer confidence in her tone that my heart ached for 
 her that I could not enlarge my prophecy and give her 
 promise of his life. 
 
 "He was of strong blood," I answered evasively. 
 "Another would have died outright of such a wound." 
 She tooked at him proudly and her hand went caressingly 
 across his forehead and hair. 
 
 "He was always a good man," she said, "and we 
 lived a quiet life." 
 
 " But why did he bring you on such a journey and in 
 so unfit a way? You are not official; but surely you 
 are not of the same class as those cattle forward in the 
 hold." Her eyes sparkled and her face fixed in an ex 
 pression of great disgust. 
 
 "It was that which troubled them!" she burst out. 
 "They were like pigs -beasts! I could not be like 
 them oh, I could not!" 
 
 "But how did it happen that you were there at all ?" 
 
 "He was not to blame," she answered. "It was my 
 whim to come, and he let me have my way. Thirty 
 years ago, when both were young, my father and 
 Alexander Baranof were friends, and there was need 
 of a physician for this place. We would save money and 
 so took the government passage like the rest. We had 
 no thought," she added with a shudder, "that it would 
 be so bad!" 
 
 "You?" I said in surprise, "it was you who wished 
 logo?" 
 
 "Yes," she repeated earnestly, "my father would 
 have stayed at Kargopol. It was I who wished to 
 come." I took measure of her slender stature and the 
 delicate lines of her face and neck. Then I thought 
 of the hardship and the work there was to do in the
 
 34 The Way of the North 
 
 American wilderness ; and of the broad-hipped peasant 
 women, strong as oxen and scarcely more intelligent, 
 whom the government was rightly choosing to send out 
 to be the future mothers of this new Russia in foreign 
 lands. 
 
 "In a new country there is room for all, I suppose," 
 I said with a smile; "but so far all the women the gov 
 ernment has sent have been of one profession that of 
 wife." She blushed consciously, but without embar 
 rassment. 
 
 "Then I shall be no exception," she said demurely, 
 "and I trust I shall bring no discredit on the name." 
 
 "But you are not married!" I said in amazement. 
 
 "No, not yet. Not till we come to land. I am 
 betrothed to the lieutenant Alexei Yegorovitch Sookin. 
 He is a soldier and an officer over the soldiers of the 
 Company at Sitka. He could not come to me and so I 
 am going out to him." The information pleased me. 
 It had weighed on my mind what should be done to help 
 her when her natural protector was finally and fully 
 dead, and it was good to find that in losing him her plans 
 had not wholly gone to wreck. 
 
 "I am glad for you," I said simply. "I only wish 
 that there was some one in that wide land who looked 
 and watched for me." The girl s eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " It must be sorrowful indeed to be alone," she said. 
 "For myself, were it not for Alexei, without my father, 
 I do not think that I could live." I said nothing, and 
 for a space we sat in silence, without looking up. Then 
 she spoke again. 
 
 "Perhaps it may not be so bad as you think," she said 
 softly. "Surely the friends that you take with you will 
 not count utterly as naught. I owe to you rescue, if not
 
 The Way of the North 35 
 
 my life, and in my house at least there will always be 
 a welcome for you. I shall not forget; and my hus 
 band" she hesitated over the new word and blushed 
 in saying it "my husband, I know, will wish to thank 
 you, too." She offered me her hand and I took it with 
 out a word. It was frankly given, and I felt a thrill of 
 pleasure in her impulsive clasp. I have never cared for 
 women and am awkward in their service; but I have 
 never denied that God made them to add to the com 
 fort of this life. My blood stirred foolishly that she 
 should thus make a comrade of me for all time. But I 
 had no words to tell her so, and beyond a mumble of 
 thanks she got no speech by which to measure my 
 appreciation. 
 
 Later, she prepared her father for the night, easing 
 his pillows and smoothing his covers as if he had been 
 a child. The pope had, an hour before, finished his 
 prayers before the ikon, and gone quietly to his room. 
 Then, when all was ready, she turned to me and spoke. 
 
 "I shall sleep better to-night," she said bravely, 
 "because I leave him in good hands. I trust you to 
 call me if there is need." 
 
 "I will surely call you," I said with positiveness and 
 made certain in my conceit that this was true. There 
 was undoubtedly no thought in my heart of breaking 
 faith with her as I loosened my clothing and drew up 
 the pallet as I had done the night before. 
 
 But Gregor Ivanovitch Garin was beyond watcher s 
 help, and I was worn out by what had gone before. I 
 do not know when I dozed, nor how long I lapsed in 
 sleep; but it must have been some hours, for when I 
 wakened it was dawn and the girl was back and lay in a 
 disconsolate heap on the floor at her father s head.
 
 36 The Way of the North 
 
 She must have come with great quietness that I did not 
 hear. I raised myself to where I could see the sick 
 man s face. One look told me the truth, and I went 
 quickly to him and felt for the beating of his heart. It 
 was still to my hand and his eyes were turned up under 
 their lids. The girl raised her head and watched me 
 dully. How she had known the end was near and had 
 come, I cannot tell. To me who watched there was no 
 sign, but in some hidden way the call had gone to her. 
 
 "He is dead," she said, and her voice was monotonous 
 and without expression. In my shame at my untrust- 
 worthiness I found no word to say. She saw my 
 abashed face and went on impassively. 
 
 "I do not blame you," she said, "he was not anything 
 to you." It hurt me, though, that where she had put 
 faith in my steadfastness I should have gone so lamely; 
 and after trying vainly for some moments to choose the 
 words that I should speak to her, I gave the matter up 
 and went hurriedly away. But so it came about that 
 of the sorts of interest that separately spurred on the 
 three of us to care for the man, religion slept, curiosity 
 fell careless by the wayside, and only love remembered 
 and was faithful to the end.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ANNA MARYA GREGOROVNA for that is the name 
 of the girl as it shows on the manifest of the ship ate 
 no breakfast on the morning after her father s death. 
 For that matter, neither the captain, the pope, nor I sat 
 long at table for the meal. We came as usual at the 
 steward s call, but there was that in the presence of the 
 dead man on the floor and of the girl beside him which 
 proved a bar to appetite. The pope was serene enough, 
 lie had come to an age when food is no more than a 
 fuel for life s fires, and so ate sparingly and was quickly 
 done. For, having learned the lesson of ripe years 
 that nature has rights beyond the call of grief, he put 
 his sentiment calmly aside and partook as simply of the 
 repast as if the man s presence gave no cause for holding 
 back. 
 
 The captain was uneasy from the start, moved, I 
 suspect, by some superstitious fear of evil glance from 
 the spirit which had so lately split its chrysalis and gone 
 free. He ate hurriedly and cursed under his breath, 
 with one eye on the food and the other on the stiffening 
 body on the floor. It was evident he was eager to 
 escape from the cabin with its threat of ghostly harm, 
 and betake himself again to the wider freedom of the 
 upper air. 
 
 I, too, was disturbed in mind, but not through fear. 
 There is a sense of weight that comes to me as to all 
 thinking men with the near view of the great change. 
 
 37 
 
 387S23
 
 38 The Way of the North 
 
 If I were a god I could devise no way more profoundly 
 calculated to grow respect in the hearts of beings I had 
 made than to stop the machinery of one occasionally 
 that the rest might know for sure they were but the 
 creatures of my will. Worship is but a thankless task 
 at best, and it cuts deep where one has had no hand in 
 coming to dependence. 
 
 Then, too, I felt a smoulder of anger with myself that 
 I had been faithless to the girl s confidence in the mat 
 ter of watching, and that also served to turn me from 
 the thought of food. But, above all, I found myself 
 looking again and again at her with a curious throb of 
 sympathy. She was so small, and so patient in her 
 grief! The brave way with which she faced the future 
 touched an answering chord in my heart. It was David, 
 if I mistake not, who wept and plead with God while 
 his child was ill, but who, when the young thing died, 
 rose up at once and dried his eyes and went quickly 
 about his work. I have always liked the story, and, as 
 with it, I liked the way the girl took measure of her 
 loss. From the moment of his hurt, she gave her 
 father her whole thought and wrestled unsparingly 
 with God and man for his deliverance from death. 
 But now that he was gone and there was no further use 
 to strive, she no longer let her tears down foolishly, but 
 faced her world bravely and dry-eyed. 
 
 I thought of the comradeship she had offered me and 
 the kindly corner promised in her life, and I was ashamed 
 I should be sitting with the others when I might be 
 standing with her as a helper in her need. As I ate, I 
 felt again the frank pressure of her hand and the wide- 
 eyed sympathy of her eyes when she had come to thank 
 me in the night; and it took the taste entirely from my
 
 The Way of the North 39 
 
 food. The thought urged to action and, leaving my 
 meal unfinished, I gathered together a cup of tea, sugar, 
 a biscuit and some vodka in a glass, and went to her. 
 
 "Drink this, child," I said. "It will not help him 
 nor would he wish it that you should go unfed." She 
 roused herself and looked at me, and, in blind obedience 
 to the order, reached out her hand mechanically for 
 what I brought. I placed it beside her on the floor. 
 The bread and spirits she did not touch, but she lifted 
 the sugar to her lips, then changed her mind, and drop 
 ping it into the tea in the English fashion, stirred it 
 about and drank the mixture with evident satisfaction. 
 The warmth of it brought the colour back to her face 
 and gave an added impulse to her strength. But her 
 eyes wandered from me to the captain and back again 
 as if there was inquiry in her mind. 
 
 "Must I go back now?" she said suddenly. 
 
 "Back where?" I asked in turn. The thought was 
 sudden and I did not quickly grasp it. 
 
 "Back where you found me," she answered and 
 her eyes went again to the captain at the table, as if she 
 would include him in the interrogation. I understood 
 now what she wanted. 
 
 "He will not object," I said soothingly. "We are 
 near land, and for the short time that remains you shall 
 have my room here and stay." Her relief was so great 
 that she made no effort to conceal it. 
 
 "I have nothing to give in return," she said, "but if 
 God rewards good deeds there will be much to your 
 credit to-day for your goodness to me, a stranger." 
 The captain had finished his meal and came toward 
 us as she spoke, on his way to the deck above. He 
 intended to pass without notice, but she got to her feet
 
 40 The Way of the North 
 
 and made as if she would address him. Evidently he 
 had small wish to talk with her, though he could not 
 help but understand, for he turned his head from her 
 and went briskly by; but she was not to be put off, and 
 called sharply after him. 
 
 "Captain," she said, "there is something I would 
 ask you. Will you stop a moment, please?" He 
 snorted ungraciously, and I could see he was consider 
 ing whether it would be more fearsome to go or to stay. 
 Then, having decided to remain and face the danger, 
 he turned abruptly and came back. 
 
 "What is it?" he said shortly. So earnest was her 
 purpose that the girl forgot to be afraid. She looked 
 the captain squarely in the face, and spoke swiftly and 
 without a tremor in her tone. 
 
 "Captain," she said, "is it true that we are near the 
 land?" 
 
 "Yes," he assented tentatively. I thought her about 
 to ask his consent to her sojourn in the cabin and it 
 annoyed me, seeing that I had told her that I had al 
 ready arranged the thing. 
 
 "Then it will not be more than a day or two till we 
 come to port?" 
 
 " No," he answered in the same curt tone. 
 
 "Then," she said, her voice rising and her words 
 coming more quickly as she made her point, "I would 
 have it arranged that my father be not buried till we 
 reach the shore." The captain and I looked at each 
 other in surprise. There was an element of strange 
 ness in the request, for it was not the custom to long 
 delay interment on the sea. Then, too, the girl did not 
 plead for the thing as a favour, but calmly announced 
 her intention like one certain and having authority.
 
 The Way of the North 41 
 
 She recognised, if we did not, that in her, and her only, 
 lay of right the final disposition of the body of the dead. 
 
 I knew, without recalling, the obstinate superstition 
 of men who go down to the sea in ships, and how it 
 would work against the retention of the dead man for 
 the time necessary to bring him safe to land. Further 
 more, I remembered that in this case crew, officers, 
 and passengers were alike agreed that the man when 
 alive was a full leaguer with the powers of sin, who had 
 laboured actively for their harm in stirring up the 
 storm. It seemed to me, therefore, that the captain 
 would be set for action different from that demanded 
 by the girl, and I waited with interest to hear what he 
 would say. 
 
 He looked up at the girl and he looked down at the 
 floor, but at all times he was careful not to turn his eyes 
 directly on the dead. His colour changed with his 
 mood, and he fidgeted awkwardly with his hands. 
 The girl would not help him and waited for him to speak. 
 
 "Well," he began irresolutely, "the thing is, I sup 
 pose, a matter of choice. But he will be just as wet 
 ashore in a bed of frozen moss as he ever will be out 
 here in the sea. And for my part, I would rather it 
 were done at once and made an end of." Anna Gregor- 
 ovna s face flushed at his frank brutality, but she held 
 her ground. 
 
 "I would not ask it for myself," she said pleadingly, 
 "but my father had a horror of the sea, and if he is 
 buried in it I know he will not rest." The smoulder of 
 superstitious fear warmed up in the captain at the 
 words. He glanced sidewise at the corpse and crossed 
 himself vigorously twice. 
 
 "God forbid," he said piously, "that that should
 
 42 The Way of the North 
 
 ever be!" She was quick to notice his uneasiness and, 
 using her advantage, played promptly on his fear. 
 
 "Captain," she said, "it is a fearful thing to bind a 
 passing shade against its peace. Surely you would not 
 have it on your soul that through you his ghost must 
 walk through all the years!" The captain shook out 
 his hair with a quick movement of his head, and his 
 breath went out in an inarticulate roar. He looked 
 from one to the other of us for all the world like an ani 
 mal at bay. I went nearer to him and spoke aside. 
 
 " Why not take the chance ? " I said under my breath. 
 "It is only for a day, and besides it will help the count 
 with Baranof." He stood in sullen silence for a con 
 siderable space, but ended by throwing up his hands 
 in full capitulation. 
 
 "Well," he said reluctantly, "I will think about it," 
 and turning to me, added in a lower voice: "In the 
 meantime, for God s sake, get him out of sight!" 
 When he was gone, I turned to the girl with a smile. 
 
 "Fear is a strong persuader," I said, "and you have 
 learned well how to put it into use." She neither 
 affirmed nor denied the imputation. 
 
 "It is a hateful thing to use," she said simply, "but 
 in the steerage it was a like mummery of fear, I believe, 
 which saved my life. Before you came I said charms 
 to keep the people back I learned to do it in a play 
 and they were afraid and let me go. It was because 
 they thought my father taught them to me that they 
 tried to throw him from the ship." 
 
 "You will be happier here," I said. 
 
 "Not happy, but I shall not be afraid. I am glad of 
 the comfort and safety of the refuge. But do you 
 think," she added with a sudden change of thought,
 
 The Way of the North 43 
 
 "that someone would go forward and bring out my 
 things?" 
 
 "What are they?" I asked. 
 
 "Two boxes and the rugs we used as covers for our 
 beds." 
 
 "Can I get them alone?" 
 
 "I will go with you," she answered. "I am not 
 afraid." 
 
 "Very well," I said, but I had in mind the strong 
 injunction of the captain that the dead man should be 
 put out of sight, and it did not seem the part of wisdom 
 to delay the matter. 
 
 "Before we go," I added, "I must see that your 
 father is cared for and set decently aside." The pope 
 helped me, and between us we lifted the mattress with 
 the dead man on it and carried the sagging burden to 
 the pope s room. Then, dismissing the girl for the 
 moment, I washed the man s face and neck, smoothed 
 his hair naturally back, tied his hands decorously across 
 his breast, and sent the pope above to flatten bullets to 
 lay upon his eyes. 
 
 It came to me to search the body for papers or things 
 of value that should be preserved, and in an inner pocket 
 I found a slender purse containing gold. There was 
 nothing else of value on him, save that round his neck 
 was a chain from which hung the Greek cross the girl 
 had instanced as showing him still within the faith. It 
 was a thing of worth, with chasing and enamel on the 
 gold of the face, and in the centre was set a coloured 
 stone. 
 
 I unclasped it, carefully folded up the chain, and, 
 with an idea of looking strictly to its safety, placed it 
 together with the purse in the inner pocket of my coat.
 
 44 The Way of the North 
 
 I had not seen the girl, but as I did it I felt a touch upon 
 my arm and, turning, found her standing closely at 
 my side. 
 
 "Give them to me," she said slowly. "Surely you 
 would not rob the dead!" Her manner showed more 
 of agitation than of real distrust, but there was enough 
 of accusation in her eyes to make my blood surge wildly 
 up within me. 
 
 "I meant no harm!" I exclaimed hotly. "I only 
 took the things that they might be kept for you." She 
 flushed till her whole face and neck were red, and bent 
 her head down till I could not see her eyes. 
 
 "I knew it at heart," she said humbly, "but trouble 
 has made treacherous things of both my temper and my 
 faith." 
 
 I took out the jewel and the purse and threw them on 
 the bench. She lifted the cross and chain and clasped 
 them again round the dead man s neck. 
 
 " It has never left him since he was a child," she said 
 softly, "and I know that he would miss it if we took it 
 now." When it was done, she rose and came quite 
 close to me. 
 
 "I do not know what you must think of me," she said 
 impulsively. "It seems that I am always doing some 
 thing that needs apology to you. It is not easy to tell 
 you I was wrong, but I am quite sure that in my heart 
 I had no doubt of your good faith." She was pleasant 
 to look at with her air of appealing contrition, and her 
 desire to be understood was so genuinely a charge upon 
 her feelings that I found small difficulty in granting 
 what she asked. 
 
 "I understand," I said with some embarrassment. 
 "There will be no need to speak of it again." Then,
 
 The Way of the North 45 
 
 to bridge the awkwardness of the pause and bring us 
 back to common things, I added: "I have finished here. 
 If you like now, we can make our journey forward." 
 
 She looked at me with sudden gratitude and bowed 
 in acquiescence. We went out without speaking; and 
 as I remember it no word was spoken till we reached 
 the hold. The peace of forgiveness comes at times 
 more certainly through silence than through words. 
 
 The hold had been cleaned since we were there before, 
 but nothing could strip from it entirely its air of bleak 
 and wretched desolation. The girl took the lead and 
 advanced at once to the dimly lighted spot which, to the 
 time of his injury, she and her father had claimed as 
 their own. There were boxes and rugs in plenty all 
 about, but she knew where her own had been, and went 
 directly to the place. I was interested that no one in 
 the cabin spoke to her. The men were simply indiffer 
 ent to her presence, but the women looked up at her 
 with quick, disdainful eyes, crossed themselves vigor 
 ously, and turned sullenly away. 
 
 She paused at last in the darkened corner, where on 
 my first visit we had stood at bay, and, stooping, felt 
 along the wall for the boxes. But they were not where 
 she had expected to find them, and she turned to me in 
 some dismay. 
 
 "They have been moved," she said nervously. "We 
 shall have to ask where they have been put." 
 
 "Do not worry," I said soothingly. "It is likely 
 the captain has had them stowed away for fear they 
 would be robbed. I will send for the steward and ask 
 him." Calling one of the hands I charged him with 
 the message, and while he went she walked impatiently 
 up and down and bit her lips to hide her growing agita-
 
 46 The Way of the North 
 
 tion. Before I did, she saw the steward coming, but 
 waited bravely for me to question him, though she hung 
 with eager interest on his words. 
 
 "Steward," I said, "what has become of this woman s 
 belongings while she has been away?" He looked 
 from one to the other of us with nervousness that was 
 ill concealed. His face showed the uneasy conscious 
 ness of unwelcome news, though in speaking he in no 
 wise voiced it in his words. 
 
 "I cannot tell you, sir," he said with assumed frank 
 ness. He edged around till his back was toward Anna 
 Gregorovna and she could not see his face. Then his 
 eyes lighted with the intelligence he had concealed 
 from her, and with an effort of his lips, rather than his 
 throat, he blurted out the truth. 
 
 "They are gone," he said, and his voice was scarce 
 above a whisper. "They were all thrown overboard 
 in the night." 
 
 I glanced at Anna Gregorovna to see if she had heard. 
 The steward s voice had been too low to carry to her the 
 meaning of his speech, but it was not hid from her that 
 he had spoken and she guessed the truth from the ex 
 pression of my face. 
 
 "They have not dared!" she said fiercely, and came 
 swiftly around to where she could look into the steward s 
 eyes. Neither of us had heart or word to make her 
 answer, but our looks were guilty pleaders for the truth. 
 For full a moment she devoured us with her angry eyes. 
 Then the light went suddenly out of her face and she 
 seemed to grow visibly smaller as she shrank into 
 herself. 
 
 "Don t tell me!" she cried piteously. "I cannot 
 bear it!" and threw up her hands in eloquent appeal.
 
 The Way of the North 47 
 
 Her whole body shook with her excitement and she 
 swayed so from side to side I thought she would surely 
 fall. But she gathered herself bravely, and covering 
 her face walked unsteadily to a near-by chest and sat 
 herself limply down. Her head drooped forward till 
 her elbows rested on her knees, her breath came in 
 great sobs and then the fountains of the deep were 
 opened and the tears came down like rain. 
 
 It stirs me always to see a woman weep, and here I 
 was the more disturbed because I found her weakness 
 a surprise. With the fine fatalism of the women of our 
 race she had accepted the fiercer buffets of fortune that 
 had come to her, patiently and with serenity of soul. 
 She had shown no weakness when she had made shift 
 to defend her father s life and she had mourned him at 
 his death dry-eyed. But now in this minor trial, when 
 there was nothing at stake for her but a parcel of foolish 
 goods, she wept like a child and made wreck of her 
 self-control. 
 
 "Oh, the good things!" she cried between her sobs, 
 " my wedding clothes and the linen for the house! 
 What have I done that I should have to go to him like 
 this!" There was that in her wrongs which stirred my 
 very bones to action. I had to do something, and 
 before I knew it I had the steward by the throat and 
 shook him as if he had been a rat. 
 
 "You villain!" I exclaimed. "You knew this and 
 you did not tell me before?" He fought himself free 
 and answered breathlessly: 
 
 "I only heard it as I came," he said sullenly and, 
 breathing hard, he stood back from my reach and fell 
 to feeling tenderly of his neck. 
 
 "I have no quarrel with you then," I rejoined
 
 48 The Way of the North 
 
 apologetically. "But who was it that threw out the 
 things?" 
 
 "It was some of these," he answered, waving his 
 hand toward the group around the hold. The girl 
 heard him, though she had not seemed to listen while 
 he spoke. 
 
 "But why did they do it?" she interjected breath 
 lessly. The steward hesitated in fear of giving her 
 offence. 
 
 "I think it was because you made the spells," he said 
 cautiously. "The things were yours and might do 
 them harm, and they threw them out because they were 
 afraid." 
 
 "Then they were afraid," she said between her 
 teeth. She sat for some moments looking straight 
 before her, while her anger wrestled with her grief. 
 The anger conquered, for she dried her eyes, and stand 
 ing up, began to look fixedly at first one and then an 
 other of the groups of people in the place. Her fingers 
 worked spasmodically and for the moment she seemed 
 to have lost the power of self-control. 
 
 "And they were afraid!" she repeated ironically, as 
 if to herself. "Very well then! Since they would 
 do it, they shall pay for it in fear." Before we could 
 stop her, she had caught down her hair with a swift 
 touch of her hand and, with a shake of her head, went 
 gliding out away from us along the floor. She did not 
 seem to walk, but bent and swung in changing curves 
 with a rhythmic motion that was curiously like a bird s. 
 
 The people in the cabin did not see her till she was 
 half way down the room. Then there was a frightened 
 cry of warning that ran like fire from lip to lip. Those 
 beyond her stood not on the order of their going and
 
 The Way of the North 49 
 
 crowded in mad haste out through the open door. 
 But the poor fools this side who found her between 
 them and the only avenue of escape saw no way open 
 for them by which they might resolve the burden of 
 their fears. They did not dare to pass lest the evil 
 of her glance should light on them and blight; and yet 
 they were wholly heartsick when they thought to stay. 
 The men gave way till they faced the danger with their 
 backs against the wall. Their wives and children 
 clung to them in panic, and the latter hid their faces in 
 their mother s skirts. One woman in her fright went 
 on her knees and with babbling voice began to pray 
 aloud. 
 
 The girl was a good actress and had been well taught. 
 She threw herself into the mimicry with an abandon 
 that was not good to see. So strong was the unhal 
 lowed seeming of it all that, though I knew it to be but 
 a sham, at times, as I watched her, the goose-flesh rose 
 and quivered all along my back. The steward not 
 being in the secret was in as great a pother as the rest, 
 and once, when her eyes rested upon him for a moment 
 and she paused and seemed about to single him out for 
 notice, I heard his teeth chatter as if he had a chill. 
 
 At first she did not speak, though her lips moved 
 constantly, as if she were weaving some fatal web of 
 speech, too subtle to be told aloud. Her eyes were set 
 above her victims heads in wide unseeing gaze, and at 
 times she stooped down and made cabalistic markings 
 w T ith her finger on the floor. Suddenly she changed 
 her plan and stopped short in one of her whirlings 
 round, to point with accusing finger at one of the shrink 
 ing figures by the wall. 
 
 "Arseni Kuznetzof," she said in her clear voice.
 
 50 The Way of the North 
 
 "when you helped destroy my father s things, did you 
 think of the time when your Marfa was mad with the 
 crying sickness and he gave her that which helped her 
 and made her well? No, but when she is sick again 
 in the new land where we shall come, you will remem 
 ber what you have done to him and to me. You will 
 pray for her and you will weep and your friends will 
 pour out fear. But it will avail you nothing, for my 
 father is dead and the succour cannot come again. And 
 she will be sick, Arseni; she will be sick!" 
 
 The man quailed visibly as if she had struck him a 
 body blow. His wife, at the mention of her name, 
 dropped on the floor beside him, and, as the girl ended 
 her bitter charge, caught him about the knees and burst 
 hysterically into tears. He was too strongly dazed to 
 think of an answer and, flatted against the w r all as if he 
 would push through, stood motionless with his eyes 
 glued on Anna Gregorovna in helpless fascination. 
 But I saw his hand go down with awkward tender 
 ness to the head of the frightened woman at his side, 
 and he drew forward the skirt of his long coat so that 
 it hid her face. 
 
 But, the diatribe ended, the girl did not stop to 
 measure its effect. She was off again across the room, 
 looking for another face sufficiently familiar to justify 
 attack. She found it half way down the circle and 
 pointed the accusing finger as before. 
 
 "Vassili Shapkin," she began, and paused. The 
 man, a stout fellow with a shock of hair that almost 
 hid his eyes, turned his back upon her promptly, lifted 
 his shoulders, bent down his head, and awaited her 
 attack. But it did not come as he had thought. Anna 
 Gregorovna had overestimated her strength and the
 
 The Way of the North 51 
 
 break came as she singled him by name. She staggered 
 slightly and her extended hand went groping out as if 
 she could not see. I sprang forward to her, but before 
 I reached her side she swerved dizzily in her place, 
 cried out, and fell headlong to the floor. Her fall broke 
 the spell that had held her audience bound. Before 
 she was down, they were in mad stampede to put the 
 distance between them and her which should take 
 them outside the baleful circle of her eyes. 
 
 I stooped above the girl and shook her to bring her 
 back to life, but she was wholly limp and gave no an 
 swering heed. I loosened her dress and chafed her 
 hands and considered what to do. It took no especial 
 skill to decide her danger not to be extreme. It was 
 a case which time would cure and that without good 
 offices from me. But it would not do to leave her to 
 the mercy of the people she had banned, and I set my 
 self to getting her away. The steward had deserted 
 and bolted with the rest, and, there being no other way, 
 I gathered her up against me and lifted her in my arms. 
 
 It was the first time I had ever so held a woman to 
 me, and I was glad I was alone. But I think the one 
 feeling that was strongest in me when I came to think 
 it over was astonishment that I should find her such a 
 load. Women always affect me with a sense of their 
 delicacy and small size, and this girl had seemed so 
 slender I was startled to find her of such weight. 
 
 I arranged her with her head in comfort on my 
 shoulder, and with no little difficulty hoisted myself up 
 the ladder and so got clear of the hold. As I reached 
 the deck I saw the stampeders gathered about the 
 captain in excited crowd and gesticulating wildly in 
 their efforts to make him understand. They stopped
 
 52 The Way of the North 
 
 awkwardly as I passed and stood gaping at my limp 
 burden with a rigidity of terror that was almost awe. 
 The captain s face was as suspicious as the rest. 
 
 I passed them in silence and descended the cabin 
 stairs. The girl still hung a dead weight in my arms, 
 and the moisture stood freely out on me before I got 
 her to her berth. I unscrewed the port and struck 
 her face gently with a moistened cloth, and at length 
 she moved her head and gave signs of returning life. 
 But she had not opened her eyes when the steward, 
 peering cautiously around the door, spoke softly to 
 me and beckoned me outside. 
 
 "The captain wants you," he said hurriedly. "You 
 will find him on the deck." He spoke with one eye 
 always on the door as if he expected momentarily to 
 see Anna Gregorovna burst out and pounce upon him 
 where he stood; and, his message delivered, without 
 waiting for an answer he as promptly went away. 
 
 I looked back into the room and assured myself 
 that my patient could be safely left to finish her own 
 cure, and, straightening somewhat the disorder of my 
 dress, I took heed of the captain s summons and went 
 obediently above. He looked at me for full a minute 
 in silent indignation before he could trust himself to 
 speak. 
 
 " A nice mess you and your hell-cat have stirred up 
 with these people," he burst out harshly. "Is she 
 dead?" 
 
 " No," I said. " It is nothing but a faint." 
 
 "The more the pity! I had hoped to bury both of 
 them at once." He was so frankly crestfallen at the 
 failure of his plan, that I laughed in sheer enjoyment 
 of his discomfiture.
 
 The Way of the North 53 
 
 "Surely," I said, "you do not believe that she could 
 really conjure those cattle to their hurt ? " He shrugged 
 his shoulders deprecatingly. 
 
 "One never knows," he said gravely, "and I saw 
 some of it myself." I felt it would be but harm to the 
 girl to keep her secret from him, so I told him what she 
 had confessed to me and how it chanced that she had 
 set herself to take pay for her lost goods in fear. He 
 heard me silently and with evident relief. But, when 
 all was said, there was still a lingering suspicion that 
 rankled in his mind. 
 
 "Well," he said finally, "if she is not dead, she must 
 needs stay on board, but she had better keep her cabin 
 if she sets store on her life. And this at least she has 
 lost by taking toll; the man goes overboard as soon 
 as we can sew him up." 
 
 I laboured with him strenuously, but his mind was 
 already made; and truly without some such concession 
 to their superstitious fear, there was strong chance of 
 mutiny among both passengers and crew. So at last 
 I left him and went down in the growing dusk to break 
 the matter to the girl. 
 
 She had recovered so far as to close and bolt the 
 door, and the only tangible sign I had of her was the 
 convulsive sobbing from within, which served to wear 
 out her grief. I knocked again and again, but she 
 would not open to me. There was a light in the pope s 
 room, and I found the sailmakers working with the 
 body and preparing it for its final plunge. The cap 
 tain had not waited when his mind was once made up, 
 and the men had been set to begin their gruesome work 
 while I yet made argument with him on the deck. I 
 watched them helplessly, and, as I found the heart,
 
 54 The Way of the North 
 
 went back to the task of making Anna Gregorovna 
 hear. 
 
 The men finished their task and went away. The 
 place settled down to its wonted evening calm, and the 
 only sound that broke the stillness was the stifled catch 
 of the girl s breath that still came to me through the 
 door. Then I heard the pope descend from the deck 
 and pass through the cabin to his room. When he 
 came out again he was clad in his priestly robes. He 
 came over to me and bowed to me as courteously as if 
 I had been a stranger. 
 
 "The captain is about to bury Gregor Ivanovitch 
 Garin," he said in an undertone. "If his daughter 
 desires to be present, it behooves her to come at once." 
 
 "I have not been able to make her hear," I answered. 
 "The door is locked and she thinks the body is to 
 stay." The pope s face became wistful, and he clasped 
 his hands together and sighed as if the girl s grief had 
 been his own. 
 
 "I know," he said sadly. "I, too, tried to move the 
 captain, but it was of no effect. I am going now," 
 he added, putting his hand upon my arm, "but you 
 will try once more, I know, to reach the unhappy 
 creature before it is too late," He moved away with 
 his serene step; and turning again to the door, I ad 
 dressed myself to the task before me. 
 
 "Anna Anna Gregorovna," I called, "do you hear 
 me there inside? If you would see your father this 
 one more time, open without delay." Either she had 
 become more calm or there was that in my demand 
 which had convinced her of the need. I heard a move 
 ment as of feet, the rustle of her dress, and the key 
 clicked in the lock as she sprang it sharply back. She
 
 The Way of the North 55 
 
 opened the door half round and stood holding by the 
 latch. Her face was swollen with much weeping, 
 her dress disordered, and the pathetic droop of her 
 figure gave earnest proof of her distress. I told her 
 in few words what had happened, but she passed it by 
 almost as if she did not hear. 
 
 "It does not matter," she said apathetically, but she 
 turned away and passed her hand before her eyes. 
 Then she came out of the room, moving unsteadily 
 like one in a dream, and made as if she would have gone 
 to where her father was. 
 
 "Do not go there!" I said sharply. "He is no longer 
 as he was and you will be happier away." 
 
 "I am not afraid," she said simply, and went steadily 
 on. I think the close-canvassed figure with the shot 
 at its feet was a shock to her as it had been to me when 
 I saw it first. But she said nothing and went close to 
 it and touched it here and there tenderly with her hand. 
 
 "I would have liked to see his face," she said drearily, 
 "and now that naught else remains, I wish I had kept 
 the cross." It would be no hardship to repair the break, 
 and it came to me to unstitch the canvas and gratify 
 her wish. With my knife I cut the seams along the head 
 and laid back the cloth that covered up the face. 
 
 It was not a pleasant sight, for the leads had been too 
 light to firmly hold the lids, and the eyes were wide and 
 staring into space. I would have covered him again, 
 but she stayed me and bent above him with a gentle 
 ness of love that made it certain that she at least did 
 not see in him the sunken horror that death had 
 wrought, but only the gracious kinship she had known 
 in life. 
 
 There were steps on the floor without, and looking
 
 56 The Way of the North 
 
 I saw that the bearers were coming to carry out the 
 dead. 
 
 "We must be quick," I said, and drew up the flap 
 again into its place. The girl s hand was on mine and 
 she held me back. 
 
 "The cross," she said thickly "I want to take the 
 cross." She thrust her hand carefully beneath the 
 canvas and felt about his neck. Then, with a cry, she 
 went searching down along the body as far as the nar 
 row cover would permit. With mad haste she pushed 
 down the flap, tearing at the stitches till the breast 
 was exposed and both of us could see. And then she 
 rose up and looked at me with a great and bitter accu 
 sation in her eyes. For the chain was not about the 
 man s neck, and it and the jewel were no longer there.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ANNA GREGOROVNA made no charge against me 
 beyond the accusation of her eyes. And this fact I 
 prize, in that she had no knowledge of other attendance 
 on her father than my own, and I alone had held the 
 secret of the cross. To me, of course, the explanation 
 was not far to seek. Somehow the sailmakers had come 
 upon the jewel while they encased the dead, and with 
 their work done and the body sewed up securely against 
 search, they had felt free and safe to take the relic for 
 their pains. 
 
 But all this time the girl had been shut up with her 
 grief and had no knowledge of these things. So it was 
 not strange that, coming unwarned upon her loss, the 
 waters of her bitterness welled up uncalled. 
 
 Perhaps, though, the outcome would have differed 
 had there been longer time. For while we stood and 
 looked, the men came in from the cabin and signified 
 their wish to take the body out. I drew up the canvas 
 hastily so as to hide the uncovered face, and tucked in 
 the loosened edges as I might. The girl watched me 
 in silence with the same look of agonised interrogation 
 in her eyes. I thought she would speak, but when the 
 bearers lifted the body and prepared to go, she turned 
 her gaze wholly upon them with like mournful interest, 
 and as they passed out, she followed close behind them 
 without another glance at me. 
 
 The pope met the small procession as it cleared the 
 
 57
 
 58 The Way of the North 
 
 hatches and led us to the ship s quarter, where a bier 
 had been made ready with a convenient board. On 
 this the man was placed, and the pope, taking station 
 at the head, began to chant the service for the dead. It 
 was more than black above, but two torches which had 
 been set up near at hand, made visible the face of the 
 priest and his purple robe, and sent the shadows dancing 
 grotesquely over the familiar things around. 
 
 If there were other watchers of the ceremony, they 
 remained outside the circle of light. Once or twice I 
 thought I caught murmured responses to the chants, 
 but when it came to the prostrations, Anna Gregorovna 
 and I went through them by ourselves. Steadying her 
 self by a shroud, she stood quietly by and made no 
 protest or even lamentation. She responded mechanic 
 ally to the calls of the service, but there was that in her 
 manner which showed how near she was to breaking 
 down. 
 
 When all was done and the last prayer said, the men 
 lifted the body to the rail and waited for the final bene 
 diction of the priest before letting it go down. Anna 
 Gregorovna quailed before this, the supreme test of 
 parting, and involuntarily I put out my hand to steady 
 her lest she should fall. She saw the action and looked 
 at me with dull eyes, and then with a shiver of recol 
 lection, she drew herself away. The momentary dis 
 traction, however, was enough to recall her to herself 
 and she turned to the side of the vessel, and with both 
 hands on the rail watched bravely while the body slid 
 over into the sea. 
 
 As the bearers poised their burden for the plunge, the 
 loosened flap of cloth fell down on the dead man s 
 breast, leaving the head exposed, and the last we saw
 
 The Way of the North 59 
 
 of Gregor Ivanovitch Gariu was his awful face, sucked 
 down like a drowning man s to death, with his open 
 eyes turned up as if appealing, and the bubbles gathering 
 like his last breath above the spot where he went down. 
 
 Startled out of her composure by the unexpected 
 horror, the girl leaned far down across the bulwark, 
 stretched out her hands as if in succour, and cried out 
 aloud. And then a strange thing happened. For 
 scarcely was the sound of her voice dead in our ears, 
 when, from somewhere out in the foggy sea, beyond 
 the limit lighted by our torches, there came back, as if 
 in answer, the sound of a human voice. 
 
 In its unexpectedness, the sound had all the seeming 
 of a coming from the dead and stirred us with an op 
 pressive sense of mystery. Every man among us 
 crossed himself with vigour, and the girl undoubtedly 
 felt it as a resurrection, for after listening intently for a 
 moment, she leaned further out and called again. Like 
 an echo, there came back the answer, as surely as before. 
 But this time the sound was distinctly nearer and like 
 a thing of earth; and as I listened I clearly caught along 
 with it the muffled sound of oars. Those about me 
 heard them at the same time, and one of the men 
 snatched up a torch, and thrusting it forward and high 
 above his head, waved it to increase the flame and widen 
 out the light in the direction from which the sound had 
 come. But the mist shut us in like a veil, and after a 
 moment s pause, he threw the torch with all the strength 
 of his arm far out into the sea. As it dropped, there 
 was a sudden shout of consternation from the distance, 
 and then the torch sank sputtering into the waves. 
 But in the instant, we had seen out there a boat of size, 
 and the shadowy figures of the men who occupied it.
 
 60 The Way of the North 
 
 The girl gave a great sob and ran back from the rail. 
 What she had hoped for, I know not, but it had been 
 sufficiently of worth to her that her disappointment in 
 not finding it was great. She waited no further tidings, 
 but, covering her face, slipped quietly away and went 
 down again below. 
 
 Not so the rest of us. The lure of curiosity held us 
 straining out into the gray, in eager questioning who 
 those strange voyagers might be. And as the news 
 spread through the ship, those hearing came by twos 
 and threes, till well-nigh all our company was leaned 
 against the side. 
 
 There was a sharp command from the captain and 
 the mate came hurriedly down among us, and, seizing 
 the other torch, dropped it blazing into the sea. 
 
 " No lights for the Spaniards! " he said grimly. " Let 
 them get their gauge of us in some other way." 
 
 Up to this moment I think that none of us had guessed 
 the strangers as anything but friends. But with the 
 mate s words came the recollection of rumours heard at 
 starting concerning an unhallowed alliance against us 
 of England and Spain; and I remembered that at 
 Okhotsk there had been talk of a Spanish vessel sent 
 from California to harry our defenceless northern coast. 
 And so it became but ordinary caution to put out our 
 lights and look askance at these unnamed visitors, come 
 to us like ghosts out of the night, and in all things to 
 charge ourselves as best we might against their threat 
 ened piracies. 
 
 And in this stress I found need to raise the captain 
 up again in my esteem. When he turned coward in the 
 storm and left us in the hand of God, he dropped down 
 fairly to the floor of my regard, and later I had found
 
 The Way of the North 61 
 
 him food for bitter humour in his superstitious terror 
 of the girl. But now, with only man to fight, and with 
 no superstitious fear upon him, he showed himself both 
 ready and fit for the work he had to do. 
 
 The women were sent below; such arms as the ship 
 afforded came from their stowage and were served out 
 to such as understood their use; and watches were 
 quickly set at intervals along the rails to warn us of 
 sinister approaches from all sides. Meanwhile, the 
 boat had answered to our hail, and having come to us, 
 lay rubbing up and down against our side with the long 
 lifting of the sea. 
 
 Our defences being complete, the captain ordered a 
 light and lowered it over the side, till we could clearly 
 see the men and boat below. The craft was a large 
 skin canoe, such as is used by the natives of these north 
 ern seas, and in it were eight men, half of whom were 
 white. Both brown and white looked at us with what 
 seemed to me more of fear than of eagerness to fight. 
 Had it not been that our guns were pointed at them, I 
 think even then they would have run away. On their 
 part, they made no shift to signal us, but talked excitedly 
 and in low tones among themselves. The captain 
 leaned over the bulwark arid called to them. 
 
 "Who are you?" he said commandingly. There was 
 a moment s excited conference in the boat, and then 
 the man in the stern, who seemed to be in authority, 
 spoke up and answered hesitatingly, but in our own 
 tongue: 
 
 "Friends." 
 
 "Are you armed?" 
 
 "No," came promptly back the answer. 
 
 "How many boats are there of you?"
 
 6s The Way of the North 
 
 "There is but one. We are alone." 
 
 "Then come aboard and I will talk with you," said 
 the captain. 
 
 A rope ladder was let down, and a man at the stern 
 and a companion came climbing up the side. As they 
 reached the deck, each man was seized by two sturdy 
 seamen and led to where the captain stood. They made 
 no resistance, and after a moment spent in searching 
 them for hidden weapons, the guards released them and 
 left them standing by themselves. 
 
 "Bring a light here," said the captain. The mate 
 lifted a torch and carried it around so as to throw its 
 illumination on the leader s face. Then, with a cry of 
 astonishment, he thrust it into the hand of the nearest 
 sailor and, rushing to the stranger, threw his arms 
 around his neck and kissed him on both cheeks. 
 
 "Ivan!" he shouted, "is it only you?" The stranger 
 peered at him in startled inquiry. 
 
 "Ssava!" he gasped in joyful recognition. His voice 
 was almost a shout, and he fell to returning the mate s 
 embrace with eager interest. There was a fire of 
 excited question between the two, during which we 
 waited, and then the mate, recovering himself with 
 belated thought as to his duty, turned apologetically to 
 the captain. 
 
 "It is my brother," he said joyfully, "who has been 
 in America with the Company for seven years. We 
 are near port and the fog is low. Yesterday, from the 
 high ground, they saw our masts above the mist and 
 believed we were the Spaniards, of whom they, too, have 
 been in fear. This boat was sent to spy us out, and had 
 it not been for the accident of the burial, they would 
 not have made themselves known until they were cer-
 
 The Way of the North 63 
 
 tain who we were. They thought it was the Spaniards 
 who had captured them," he shouted, turning to his 
 brother and slapping him on the back, "and at the same 
 time we thought it was the Spaniards come to capture 
 us!" He capered like a boy, and, rushing to the side, 
 called out to the men below: 
 
 "Come up," he bawled, "come up and be eaten as 
 Ivan Zavialof has been!" There was an instant stir 
 in the canoe and a wave of startled comment ran 
 through it from stem to stern. Ivan Zavialof went to 
 his brother s side and checked his childishness. Taking 
 his place, he spoke reassuringly to the frightened pris 
 oners, and in another moment they were climbing 
 eagerly up onto our decks. 
 
 And yet when the thing was over, I was not wholly 
 happy in my mind. The certainty that we were not 
 to fight brought a distinct feeling of relief, though we 
 were well prepared for combat and in the fighting 
 would have made good account. It was the lessening 
 of nerve tension, I suppose, and the fact that I was 
 unstrung from the excitement of the death and burial 
 that had gone before. There was uneasiness of thought, 
 if nothing more, and I found no lightness or elation in 
 my thankfulness for our escape. But this was not the 
 case with the majority, for no sooner was the matter 
 proved and the opportunity gone, than the whole ship 
 bubbled over like children with joy at the delivery. So, 
 while to be in fashion, I took congratulations and made 
 no sign to spoil the pleasure of the rest, inside I held 
 my thought and found small interest in the roystering. 
 
 It was not a mood that leaned toward quiet in me, and 
 I set my mind to think of something that would give 
 me active work; and as I canvassed the opportunities
 
 64 The Way of the North 
 
 that came up in my thought, I could think of nothing 
 more seasonable than to seek out the sail -makers forward 
 and retrieve the stolen cross. There was a scent of 
 unpleasantness about the matter that had appeal for me. 
 
 But whatever of adventure there promised in the 
 task, it failed of savour in the realisation. I found the 
 fellows almost without search. They had felt so cer 
 tain in their filching, and had judged the chance so 
 wide that could lead to their undoing, that they had no 
 story ready, and gave up their ill-gotten plunder with 
 out bluster or appeal. So I returned to my cabir with 
 small comfort in my soul, and there my temper was 
 not improved by finding that the steward had forgotten 
 to lay out my bed. I found some relief in doing this 
 myself, but when it was done, I had no heart for going 
 again on deck and so retired. But I should have liked 
 to get my hand upon the steward before I laid me down. 
 
 It was the first night of four which had been without 
 alarms, and I saw and heard nothing till morning. 
 Then the waking was to a new and different world. 
 My grievances had flown, the fog had lifted, and the 
 sky was soft with the wet blue of spring. The sea was 
 level as a floor, and the breeze had just enough of 
 strength to set us moving on it. But the thing which 
 changed the setting and gave to it its thrill of novelty 
 and charm was the great rim of firm ground that 
 stretched along and filled the eastern sky-line and woke 
 up in us the belief that soon again we should go free- 
 footed on dry land. 
 
 God knows, however, that there was little pleasure 
 in the prospect outside of this idea. I never saw a land 
 that gave back less of human sympathy. All the coast 
 was hills, abrupt and snowbound and covered with
 
 The Way of the North 65 
 
 close timber down to the water s edge. Off to the 
 north was one clear peak as white and round as a 
 woman s breast. But in all the distance there was no 
 sign of human interest or occupation, and the clearness 
 of the air hardened the outlines of trees and rocks and 
 hills as if in this new place Nature had found no time 
 for the soft graces, but faced her fact, stripped grimly 
 to the buff. The captain, too, found pleasure in the 
 prospect, and fairly laughed as I saluted him. 
 
 "It is worth while to see the sun," he said cheerfully. 
 "I am sorry I did not throw that beggar overboard 
 three days ago." I looked for the strangers of the 
 night before, but the decks were empty and there was 
 no sign of them aboard. 
 
 "Where is the boat?" I asked. 
 
 "It is gone," the captain answered. "They went 
 away at dawn to carry the dispatches to the port and 
 make ready for our coming." I scanned the shore 
 for signs of human habitation. 
 
 "Where is the port?" I said finally. He pointed to 
 the north. 
 
 "Yonder it is; over that low point." But it might 
 as well have been hidden altogether so far as the com 
 fort to be derived from it was concerned, for, to the 
 untrained eye, the place that was the town was but a 
 darker and distincter spot of color against the back 
 ground of the hills. 
 
 It was past noon when we made our landing and let 
 the anchor creak down into the sea. The pope and I 
 watched the process from the deck and together took 
 tale of the strange view ashore. Our eyes went with 
 curious questioning over the great palisade and along 
 the long, low, fort-like buildings of the post. But I
 
 66 The Way of the North 
 
 could see that the pope s interest was not with these, 
 and that he turned from them always to the irregular 
 fringe of hovels outside of the great fence, which evi 
 dently served as homes to the natives of the place. 
 
 "A new land and a new life," he said musingly. 
 "Fedor, I almost envy you in being young." 
 
 "Why so?" I answered. "Age is altogether a ques 
 tion of the heart. What matters it so long as that is 
 young?" 
 
 "True," he said dreamily, "true, and in some ways 
 I have tried. But while we all agree that the heart 
 must be kept young when it comes to the practice, 
 who of us knows how?" I found a sudden pleasure 
 in finding him thus melancholy, in the hope that his 
 delusion might be passing and that the break would 
 prove the beginning of the end. 
 
 "The work can have no soul without the uplift," I 
 began softly, but he broke in upon my word. 
 
 "It is not that," he said impatiently. "I have not 
 lost the zeal. I am jealous, simply, that I have not 
 your strength. Think of this great field and what 
 could be done in it if I were young as you. Look at this 
 one spot alone," and lifting his arm he let it swing 
 round the whole circle of the shore. "Is it not enough 
 to make a man sigh for strength?" 
 
 And truly, if I had been a soul hunter, in summing 
 up that prospect I should have felt the sportsman s 
 thrill. Nearly three hundred native canoes lay be 
 tween us and the beach, and their Indian owners were 
 gathered in picturesque groups about the fires along 
 the shore. Their number was so great that I knew the 
 old man felt like a hunter who has flushed a royal covey 
 and yet has but a single gun.
 
 The Way of the North 67 
 
 "You will not need to look farther," I said, deter 
 mined to make a point somewhere. "There are enough 
 heathen here for you to practise on all the remaining 
 years of your life." He shook his head soberly. 
 
 "My work is not here," he said; "these souls are 
 already within the circle of light, and I was called to go 
 out to those who have not yet known God." 
 
 We stood and looked till the boats were ready to take 
 us ashore. Then I thought to look for Anna Gregor- 
 ovna and see that she came safely to the land. She 
 was still below, and I sent a man to tell her of the going. 
 Presently she came on deck, but paused before she 
 reached us and stood a space apart. Her eyes went to 
 the shore and the huddled buildings of the post, and 
 the colour rose in her cheeks as she thought of what the 
 prospect meant to her. I went to where she stood 
 and spoke a word of sympathy. 
 
 "This is the end of the sea-faring," I said. "I hope 
 it is the beginning of happier days for you." She did 
 not answer, and half turned away, and for the moment 
 I thought she would leave me where I stood. Then 
 she thought better of it and turned to me with pleading 
 eyes. 
 
 "What is it?" I said. "Why will you not speak to 
 me?" 
 
 "I cannot help it," she said tremulously. "Before 
 we go, will you not give me back my cross ?" 
 
 The blood went hotly up to my cheeks and I found 
 no word to say. It had not seriously stayed with me 
 that she would persist in her suspicions of me as the 
 thief, and now that it was so, I was embarrassed how to 
 return the thing without fixing her finally in her belief. 
 I had had no thought in its retrieving but the cross
 
 68 The Way of the North 
 
 should be restored, but now the impulse was strong to 
 make denial and choose another time for the return. 
 
 I have ever found it that, in the end, the blunt truth 
 wins, however much it seems to lack of potence at the 
 time when it is told ; and I say this too in the face of the 
 disadvantage that has come to me in the matter of the 
 killing of the Chuckchi. If I had chosen to lie about 
 that, I might still have been at Okhotsk. 
 
 The temptation, however, passed for me in a moment. 
 I cursed myself inwardly for a fool and settled in my 
 mind that, come what would, I would act now and 
 have the matter over with. Unbuttoning my coat I 
 drew out the cross and, without a word of palliation or 
 excuse, placed it in her hand. 
 
 She took it mechanically and stood looking blankly 
 from it to me with a surprise that was closely allied to 
 bewilderment. Then as the bitter force of the thing 
 swept over her, her look changed to one of trouble, and, 
 turning away from me, she leaned her head against 
 the shroud and bent so that I could not see her face. 
 The hand that held the cross dropped lightly to her 
 side and the jewel slid unnoticed to the deck. Her 
 shoulders drew forward in her struggle for self-control 
 and I could see that she was crying softly to herself. 
 
 "Then it was you, after all, who took it," she said 
 brokenly. "Oh, why did you give it back?" I 
 stooped and lifted the cross again and held it out to 
 her. 
 
 "Can you not understand," I said, "that if my 
 hands had not been clean in the matter, I should not 
 have brought it back to you?" And then I told her 
 all the truth about the sail-makers and how, later, the 
 thing had been regained. She heard me through in
 
 The Way of the North 69 
 
 silence and did not raise her head ; but when I had done, 
 and she had taken time sufficient to dry up her tears, 
 she faced me bravely and held out her hand. 
 
 "I will take it now," she said, "and I will tell you I 
 am very glad. Not alone for the cross," she added 
 softly, "though I should have missed it more than I 
 should like to think. But the great comfort comes 
 in the thought that I need not go out from this dreadful 
 place feeling that in any single thing you have been 
 unkind."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE passage from ship to shore was short and un 
 eventful. We threaded our way carefully among the 
 maze of boats, and the tide being high, passed easily 
 through the channel that wound like a tortuous snake 
 between the banks of mud, and so came to an easy 
 landing on dry ground. We were the first to disembark 
 and all the population of the post was there to welcome 
 us. The larger part were natives, hunters, and hangers- 
 on of the fort, and as I looked them over the opinion 
 grew that they were by far the most repulsive creatures 
 I had ever seen. Assuredly, if they were as bad inside 
 as out, they had strong need of the pope and all his 
 kind to bring them even to a scant salvation. They 
 stood respectfully in the background and yielded the 
 post of vantage to those of our own colour whom fate 
 had thrown as flotsam on this shore. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna kept close beside me as we walked, 
 and I could see that she challenged every new face in 
 momentary expectation of discovering her lover in the 
 crowd. The boat being cleared, we followed the sailor 
 who brought out our goods, and began a progress to 
 ward the higher ground. As we neared the group 
 of spectators, they parted so as to let us pass through, 
 and a tall man with black mustachios and a suspicion 
 of a swagger in his air stepped out from among them 
 and saluted me in the military fashion. 
 
 "You are Fedor Kirilovitch Delarof ?" he said with 
 70
 
 The Way of the North 71 
 
 an air of importance. When I had assented, he con 
 tinued: "The commander, Alexander Andreievitch 
 Baranof is busy with his dispatches and could not come. 
 I am charged by him to show you to the quarters he has 
 assigned to you in the post. Joassaf Petrovitch is to 
 remain with you for the present." I was surprised at 
 the attention, for I had not thought of myself as coming 
 as an honoured guest. 
 
 "And the lady here," I said, "what disposition has 
 been made for her?" He looked at her curiously and 
 bowed with full respect; but I could see from his manner 
 she was not within the order he had brought. 
 
 "She is Anna Marya, the daughter of Gregor Ivano- 
 vitch Garin, who died on the passage across the sea. 
 She is the betrothed of the Lieutenant Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch Sookin, and if no disposition has been made for 
 her, it would be well to send for him." At the mention 
 of the lieutenant s name the man looked up quickly at 
 the girl with a new interest, and bowed again. 
 
 "Though I have had no instruction in the matter," 
 he said courteously, "I shall be glad to serve Anna 
 Gregorovna as I can. The Lieutenant Sookin is in 
 disposed and cannot leave his room. I had best speak 
 to Marfa Ekaterina Baranof." He turned to carry out 
 his purpose, but Anna Gregorovna called him back. 
 At the mention of her lover s sickness she had started 
 forward and now only waited till he had stopped speak 
 ing to question him for herself. 
 
 "Wait," she said breathlessly, "Alexei Yegorovitch 
 is he very ill ? " The man stopped and half turned back 
 to her, but before he spoke he looked at me and his eye 
 drew down in what, if I had* known him better, I should 
 have thought to be a wink.
 
 72 The Way of the North 
 
 " No, panna," he said cheerily. " He has had trouble 
 with his throat from the winter cold, but he will soon 
 be out again." He did not wait for her to say more, 
 but added: "If you will follow me, I will take you to 
 Marfa Alexandrovna," and walked on. 
 
 We had almost passed the spectators, when I saw 
 coming toward us a young girl of perhaps eighteen 
 years of age. She was a pretty creature with brown 
 hair and eyes, and a skin of pure olive sufficiently trans 
 parent to let the colour through it at her cheeks. But 
 a certain heaviness of figure and the high angle of tho 
 facial bones told me at once that she was a half-breed, 
 or Creole as they are wrongly called in this land, and 
 had Indian blood in her veins. 
 
 She led by the hand a little boy of perhaps seven or 
 eight years, who jumped up and down with impatience, 
 yet did not venture to let go her grasp. Our guide 
 perceived her as I did, and stopping us with a 
 gesture, waited her approach. She saw us and 
 turned her steps to where we stood. Pausing in front 
 of us, she looked inquiringly at our conductor and 
 waited for him to speak, but before he could do so 
 her attention was taken from him by the child who 
 still danced up and down and pulled impatiently at 
 her gown. 
 
 " Do not stop, Marfa," he said pleadingly. " We 
 shall be late, and I want to be there when they come/ 
 The girl did not look down at him, but put her arm 
 about his shoulders and drew him back against her 
 side. 
 
 " Hush, Paul," she said in a low voice, " they are 
 here now." 
 
 " Where are they now ? " he insisted in his high,
 
 The Way of the North 73 
 
 clear speech. "I do not hear them." She gave herself 
 up to the interruption and bent above him soothingly. 
 
 "They are here in front of you. There are three 
 of them, a young man, a woman and a priest. Now 
 listen a moment and you will hear them speak." The 
 child did not look at us but stood silent, with his head 
 tilted slightly back and one foot moving flutteringly 
 forward as if he were feeling of the ground. Marfa 
 Alexandrovna straightened herself awkwardly and then 
 looked at us with the signs of some confusion showing 
 in her face. 
 
 "I trust you will forgive my brother s forwardness," 
 she said simply. "He is blind." Then turning to 
 our guide, she said with dignity : 
 
 "\Yhat is it, Peter? Is there something for me to 
 do?" 
 
 "There is a lady here," he answered, "concerning 
 whose disposition I have not been charged." The 
 Creole looked at once at Anna Gregorovna with genuine 
 interest, but it was patent that she had had no previous 
 knowledge of her coming. Anna Gregorovna, for her 
 part, shrank nervously from the scrutiny, and I spoke 
 to her for comfort. 
 
 "The captain has taken his revenge," I said under 
 my breath; "he has not announced you to the com 
 mander." She looked up at me suddenly and then 
 back at the other woman without a word ; but the Creole 
 recovered from her astonishment and came to where 
 she stood. 
 
 "There has been some mistake," she said pleasantly. 
 " I was told there were no women aboard except among 
 the settlers." Anna Gregorovria s pale face grew paler 
 and she looked swiftly again at me, but before I could
 
 74 The Way of the North 
 
 think what to say, she recovered herself and made her 
 own answer. 
 
 "I am of the settlers," she said bitterly. "There 
 has been no mistake." Marfa Alexandrovna looked 
 at her in astonishment, and I could see that she was 
 puzzled by the fact. 
 
 "But you are not a peasant," she said at once. 
 
 "Anna Gregorovna s father," I interposed, "was 
 the physician of the party and a man of rank. It was 
 a chance that they were rated with the rest." Marfa 
 Alexandrovna s face cleared and she impulsively put 
 out her hands. 
 
 "I knew it was a mistake," she said smilingly, "and 
 I am glad that you have come. There have been 
 scarcely enough girls in Archangelsk for company." 
 They were the first kind words that had come to Anna 
 Gregorovna in the new land, and her eyes filled with 
 tears. The two girls clasped hands and stood for a 
 moment in silence, while the blind boy, drawn nearer 
 by the greeting, put out his hand and timidly touched 
 Anna Gregorovna here and there about her gown. 
 The guide, who till this moment had been silent, now 
 added his word to the general explanation. 
 
 "Marfa Alexandrovna should also know," he said 
 deferentially, "that this lady is the betrothed of the 
 Lieutenant Sookin." His tone was grave and suffi 
 ciently weighted with respect, but there was a twinkle 
 in his eye which belied his full sincerity. If he had 
 thought to startle her by the information he gave, his 
 ruse met with a measure of success. Marfa Alex 
 androvna stopped short in her greetings and drew back 
 so she could look more clearly into Anna Gregorovna s 
 eyes.
 
 The Way of the North 75 
 
 "Not Alexei?" she cried, and waited breathless for 
 the answer. She found it without words in Anna 
 Gregorovna s face and, controlling herself with an 
 effort, spoke again with a return of her self-contained 
 manner. 
 
 "Forgive me," she said with some confusion. "What 
 Peter Nicolaievitch tells me is astonishing news. We 
 have seen much of Alexei Yegorovitch in the past 
 three years and he had never told us of your coming." 
 
 "He does not know of it himself," said Anna Gregor- 
 ovna eagerly. "It was done suddenly, without time 
 for tidings. I came because my father came and I 
 could not let him know." Marfa Alexandrovna was 
 now fully recovered in her poise, and, when she spoke 
 again, was wholly at her ease. 
 
 "Well," she said, "at any rate I should not keep 
 you standing here. You shall come with me and I will 
 see that word is sent to the lieutenant." She took 
 Anna Gregorovna again by the hand and would have 
 led her away, but the child cried out against return 
 and raised his voice in lamentation. 
 
 "Do not hold us back," said his sister, coaxingly. 
 "The lady is coming with us and you shall come again 
 when she is placed." 
 
 "But the man who spoke " said the child with 
 urgency. "If I am not presented I shall not know 
 him when I meet him again." The girl looked at me 
 pleadingly. 
 
 "Will you humour him? It is the shortest way." I 
 came forward to where he stood. 
 
 "If you will tell me your name " said the girl, 
 
 blushing. 
 
 " I am called Fedor Kirilovitch Delarof ," I answered.
 
 7 6 The Way of the North 
 
 "You hear, Paul," she continued. "Give Fedor 
 Kirilovitch your hand." The child extended both 
 hands and I took them in my own. He did not grasp 
 them as another person would have done, but held fast 
 with one hand while with the other he went fluttering 
 over every inch of me within reach with a touch as 
 light and delicate as a breath of wind. He gauged the 
 length of my fingers and the thickness of the palms, 
 and ended by gravely testing the cloth of my sleeve 
 between his nimble ringer and thumb. 
 
 "There, I shall know you now," he said with a sigh 
 of satisfaction. "Your hands are larger than Marfa s. 
 but they are just as soft." Then turning to his sister, 
 he held out his hand. 
 
 "I am ready to go now," he said in his impersonal 
 voice; and the two women, leading him between them, 
 left us and went up toward the great entrance to the 
 stockade. 
 
 We followed at a respectful distance, and, once inside 
 the fence, turned from the great two-story structure 
 standing at the front in which Baranof was housed, 
 and skirted away toward a lower building at the right- 
 hand angle which served as quarters for the men. 
 
 As we passed the mansion, two men came out of tke 
 doorway of it, and, pausing, stood in excited colloquy 
 upon the steps. One of them was of good height and 
 had the air of a person accustomed to command. The 
 other was small and square in build, and nervous and 
 excitable in gesture and speech. He was without a hat 
 and the top of his head was bald above a fringe of sandy 
 hair. The two were in heated dispute and gesticu 
 lated violently as they talked. The smaller man was 
 evidently the aggressor. He pushed his opponent
 
 The Way of the North 77 
 
 hard and emphasized his charge by striking one hand 
 with a sheaf of folded papers that he held in the other. 
 Both saw us and stopped silently to look. Then the 
 smaller man came down the steps and beckoned us to 
 come to him. 
 
 "The commander," said Peter Nicolaievitch between 
 his teeth, and took off his hat. I looked curiously 
 at the man, for the short figure and sallow face were 
 scarcely what I had expected to find in Baranof. But 
 his eyes were as keen and masterful as a hawk s, and 
 there was an abrupt directness in his way that spoke a 
 shrewd ability in dominating men. 
 
 "You are Fedor Kirilovitch Delarof," he said with 
 as much assurance as if he had known me for years. 
 "I have letters here from Okhotsk concerning you." 
 His voice was heavy and large for a man of his size. 
 He spoke abruptly, though there was no unpleasant 
 quality of tone. 
 
 The blood came painfully up into my face, for I had 
 small doubt as to what account of me those letters 
 must contain, and the more so that secretly I had 
 hugged the hope that the governor would be content 
 to let me begin again in this new place without the 
 herald of his handicap. Alexander Andreievitch 
 seemed not to expect me to reply, for without notice of 
 my embarrassment, he went on: 
 
 "Peter Nicolaievitch, here, will see you settled in the 
 barracks. The priest, I suppose, is a legacy that 
 comes to me with the settlers. I desire him not to go 
 to the archimandrite s house. He is to stay with you 
 till I can talk with him. Get yourselves settled and 
 come to me about four o clock." He nodded distantly, 
 and without further word turned again to his adversary
 
 78 The Way of the North 
 
 on the porch. Peter Nicolaievitch was evidently in 
 awe of him, for he waited a full minute before replacing 
 his hat. 
 
 "I should say," he chuckled, "that you are already 
 in favour and will get on very well, but Baranof never 
 did like a priest." 
 
 Inside, the barracks consisted of a long, low-raftered 
 room with tables for our meals, and beyond this was 
 a series of small chambers opening out of it on two 
 sides. The walls were of logs and within had been 
 squared to show an even surface; and all this surface 
 had been coloured green. The ikon hung high on the 
 wall that faced the entrance to the room. There were 
 benches along the tables and here and there a stool. 
 In one corner was the samovar, so crusted with white 
 that it looked as if covered with snow. There was no 
 attempt at decoration except that, in front of the holy 
 picture, three coloured eggs hung suspended from the 
 ceiling by slender strings and in one of the window 
 embrasures some one had set up a bunch of dried grasses 
 to collect the dust. 
 
 The pope and I were quartered together, and set 
 ourselves to release our things. But before our guide 
 had left us, and while he was still giving us parting 
 advice, there came from somewhere in the house a 
 call for him by name. 
 
 "Peter Peter Nicolaievitch, are you come back?" 
 It was a man s voice, high-pitched and youthful, but 
 there was a slowness about the enunciation of the 
 words that made the delivery of them seem an effort. 
 Peter Nicolaievitch threw up his head and listened, and 
 then looked at us and laughed. 
 
 "It is the Lieutenant Sookin," he said. "He cannot
 
 The Way of the North 79 
 
 get out of bed and I promised to bring him the news." 
 Then raising his voice, he shouted, "All right, my boy, 
 I ll be with you in a minute." 
 
 "Are there any new men come ?" 
 
 "Yes, two for this place." 
 
 "Good," said the voice in a tone of satisfaction. 
 " Bring them in. I want to see them." Peter Nicolaie- 
 vitch turned to us appealingly. 
 
 "Can you take the time?" he said with the air of 
 one asking a favour. "The boy is lonely, shut up in 
 his room, and a new face is a Godsend in this empty 
 land." I looked interrogatively at the pope, but he 
 had already laid aside the things in his hands and 
 risen for the going. 
 
 "Very well," I said. "We shall be glad to meet the 
 Lieutenant Sookin." Peter Nicolaievitch was a man 
 easily moved by his emotions. He got to his feet with 
 an exuberant look of joy. 
 
 " He is a fine fellow," he said eagerly. " You will like 
 him, if he is only a boy." He led us out into the main 
 room and so to a chamber on the other side. The 
 apartment itself was larger than ours and was cheerful 
 with the afternoon sun that shone in through the 
 uncurtained casements toward the west. It was fairly 
 bare of furniture, the chief fittings being the two 
 couches which occupied opposite corners of the room. 
 
 One of these beds was unoccupied, but the tumbled 
 covers showed that the lack was only since the morning. 
 In the other was a young man of perhaps twenty-two 
 or three. He was slender and boyish in build and was 
 propped up with cushions so that he sat, rather than 
 reclined, upon the couch. His face was mobile and sen 
 sitive, with features refined almost to weakness, and he
 
 8o The Way of the North 
 
 had luminous black eyes that devoured so steadily the 
 objects they fixed themselves upon that one seemed to 
 look right through them to the soul beyond. 
 
 He did not move as we came in except to lift his head 
 and nod in welcome. But even this exertion worried 
 him, for he breathed more quickly; and in each 
 cheek, with the excitement, there began to burn 
 a hectic spot. 
 
 "It was good of you to come," he said in his languid 
 voice. Peter is company, but in these three years we 
 have told each other most that is in our minds." He 
 had the rare gift of laughter that draws one irresistibly 
 into fellowship, and when he turned his head and smiled 
 on Peter Nicolaievitch, I found myself involuntarily 
 smiling with him. As for Peter, he shrugged his 
 shoulders up in deprecation, and laughed outright. 
 
 "But I m through with you now," he shouted. 
 "The Commander has you where you can no longer 
 shirk. He sends you these two men one is a doctor 
 and the other a priest and you are to decide for your 
 self which way you w r ill go. But that you shall go one 
 way or the other, he has surely made up his mind and, 
 well man or dead man, you will have no further need 
 of me." The young man lay back on his pillows and 
 half closed his eyes. 
 
 "Well," he said lazily, "if you should tell me more 
 about them, I would be better able to make choice." 
 
 "The doctor s name is Fedor Kirilovitch Delarof, 
 and the priest is called Joassaf Petrovitch." The 
 lieutenant repeated the names softly to himself. " Joas 
 saf Petrovitch," he went on, "is he to take the place of 
 the archimandrite who is dead?" 
 
 "No," said the pope humbly, speaking for himself,
 
 The Way of the North 81 
 
 "I am only a priest, and not a monk. I shall be sent 
 to one of the outer posts." 
 
 "Yes," said the young man under his breath, "Bara- 
 nof believes in having the gospel seed so widely scattered 
 that the sower cannot easily come back. You will prob 
 ably range wide." Then his thoughts turned to me. 
 
 "I am glad," he said, "that there is to be a doctor at 
 the post. Since the Malemutes killed Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch, I have had no medicine but brandy for this 
 trouble in my throat. I will get you to look me over 
 when you have more time." 
 
 I had no need to look him over to diagnose the case. 
 It took no special skill to verify the trouble as being 
 in the lungs. But I was puzzled to account for the 
 absolute weakness of his present state. For while the 
 terrible disease had surely set its mark upon him it 
 was not yet far advanced, and he still had about him 
 the warmth of manhood and the courage of life that 
 serves to keep men young. 
 
 Peter Nicolaievitch had waited impatiently the delay 
 of the introductions, and now could hold back no longer 
 the information he was burning to impart. 
 
 "But the news, Alexei," he broke in, "you have 
 not heard the news!" The young man scarcely 
 changed his position though his eyelids drew down 
 into a closer and more quizzical line. 
 
 "Don t disturb me, Peter," he said dryly. "I am 
 making up my mind about my men." Peter understood 
 his mood, for he chuckled to himself and winked at us 
 as if we, too, were in the confidence, 
 
 "But Alexei," he said, "the news belongs especially 
 to you." The lieutenant yawned as if the whole 
 affair were but a bore to him.
 
 8z The Way of the North 
 
 "Well," he said, "if I must hear it, let it go." But 
 Peter was in no haste to spring his climax while there 
 was amusement in delay. He scratched his head and 
 knitted his eyebrows as if weighing different matters 
 vigorously in his mind. 
 
 "Where shall I begin?" he said as if to himself. 
 "Well, for one thing, there are almost a hundred 
 settlers in the batch." 
 
 "How many of them are for my company?" asked 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 "Forty at the least." 
 
 "That means forty devils more for me to drill," said 
 Alexei Yegorovitch plaintively, "and that same drilling 
 is wearing work. But for all that, Peter, I am minded 
 to throw in my lot with the doctor and stay alive." 
 Peter rubbed his hands together in appreciation. 
 
 "Hold on," he said, "you are too soon. Wait till 
 you hear the rest." He paused expectantly for ques 
 tion, but the sick man knew it was only a matter of 
 time when the whole secret would come to him un- 
 courted, and would not give him the satisfaction of 
 demand. Peter was too full of the matter for long 
 waiting, and after a short space of silence began to lead 
 him on. 
 
 "Who else do you suppose was on the ship ?" 
 
 "Anyone I know?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Man or woman?" 
 
 "Woman someone you knew at home." The 
 lieutenant let his eyes go entirely shut. 
 
 "How can I tell," he cried hopelessly. "There were 
 so many of them!" But Peter kept him no longer in 
 the dark.
 
 The Way of the North 83 
 
 "What if it were your betrothed whom you left 
 behind in Russia?" he said impressively. Alexei 
 Yegorovitch s eyes came wide open and with an 
 effort he sat straight up in bed. 
 
 "Not Anna Gregorovna?" he said with incredulity. 
 
 "Yes, Anna Gregorovna," said Peter. "I talked 
 with her myself." It had taken all the lieutenant s 
 strength to bring himself up, and almost immediately he 
 fell back. For some moments he lay turning over in 
 his mind the astonishing bit of news, and even Peter 
 respected his confusion. Twice he looked up at us 
 quickly from under his half-closed lids and, catching 
 our eyes, as suddenly looked down. The spots of red 
 on his cheeks broadened and grew till he was flushed 
 from neck to hair, and as the full import of the thing 
 came over him, he laughed softly to himself. 
 
 "Where is she?" he said finally. 
 
 "At the great house." Again the lieutenant s eyes 
 opened on Peter Nicolaievitch with an inquiring 
 glance. 
 
 "And the other " he said with some confusion, 
 
 "does she know?" Peter Nicolaievitch in his delight 
 got up and wrung the lieutenant s hand. 
 
 "That was the cream of the whole thing," he gasped. 
 "She not only knows, but she has taken the lady in 
 charge to keep her till you come. Alexei, you would 
 have laughed yourself to see her face when she was told." 
 But now, at least with the lieutenant, the statement 
 did not make for mirth. Like a sudden sunset, the 
 colour faded from his face. The excitement was too 
 much for him and he fainted quietly away. 
 
 "How long has he been like this?" I asked as we 
 laid him back and forced a stimulant between his lips.
 
 84 The Way of the North 
 
 "Oh, only since last night," said Peter cheerfully. 
 "It is only when the bleeding comes in his throat that 
 he gives out. He was the same way before. In a 
 week he will be around as usual." 
 
 We fanned the patient and bathed his face, and 
 shortly the colour warmed a little in his cheeks. His 
 eyelids trembled and unclosed, and he looked up 
 steadily into our eyes. 
 
 "Peter," he breathed rather than whispered. Peter 
 Nicolaievitch leaned above him with all the tenderness 
 of a woman. 
 
 "What is it, my boy?" he said soothingly. The 
 lieutenant drew him toward him, and the ghost of his old 
 smile hovered about his lips. 
 
 "Peter," he said pantingly, "I do not know but 
 after all I had better choose the priest!"
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 As THE hour approached for the interview with 
 Baranof, I felt my courage ooze steadily away. Per 
 haps if there had been more weight upon my soul I 
 should have been more composed. It is the innocent 
 and not the guilty man who fears the law, in that he has 
 so much more to lose. On the complaisance of the 
 Commander hung not only my chance of livelihood, but 
 also my hope of ordinary happiness in the daily round 
 of life. My mind went back with bitterness to the 
 governor of Okhotsk and the injury he had done me 
 in setting Baranof to a false pre-judgment, by crying 
 me here as wanton before there could come to me 
 again the opportunity of retrieval by force of redeeming 
 deed. Commendation in good quarters has not been 
 lacking to me, either for energy or worth, and there 
 had been no smirch upon me before this single thing. 
 But a man may do forty shining deeds and get no credit, 
 while as a matter of course the one scar on his knee will 
 always be pointed out in the judgment of the sureness of 
 his feet. 
 
 But face the climax I must, and I felt it would be 
 foolish not to learn as much as possible beforehand of 
 the man who was to pass upon my fate. To this end 
 I set myself to question Peter Nicolaievitch, choosing 
 the time when, having set myself to rights, I was alone 
 with him in the great room outside. 
 
 "Baranof?" he said in answer to my question. 
 
 85
 
 86 The Way of the North 
 
 " Why, he is like the most of us, except that he has more 
 power. He is a little hard if things are not done his 
 way, but there is no particular blame in that. You or 
 I, if we had his grip on affairs, would expect them to 
 turn with our hand. He is a hard drinker and a good 
 fighter and shrewd enough to outbargain a Yankee 
 trader in his sleep. He holds down these devils 
 of convicts here by the sheer force of his will, and 
 that is the reason he stays here instead of at his 
 home in Kadiak. The Lebedef settlement up the 
 sound will bear watching, and he prefers to be close 
 enough to do things for himself. He is sixty-four 
 years old, but he likes a woman as well as he ever 
 did, and the young ones do not always know just 
 how to take his jokes. It is a funny thing," he con 
 tinued with a chuckle, "but you will find him in the 
 one thing as vain as a peacock that his legs are so 
 well preserved." 
 
 "But is he just in his judgments?" I asked. Peter 
 Nicolaievitch screwed up his eyes and thought a moment 
 before answering. Then he nodded vigorously. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "he is just in the main. But a 
 better way to put it would be that he understands men 
 and that they get from him about .what they deserve. 
 You can t fool him much about things not at least 
 when he is sober. But, man dear, when he is drunk 
 you want to keep out of his way. The Lord himself 
 couldn t hold him then." 
 
 "How will it be this afternoon ?" I asked with some 
 apprehension. Peter laughed aloud. 
 
 "Why, man," he said, "I believe you are afraid of 
 him before you have come under his thumb. He won t 
 hang you there is too much need of a doctor for the
 
 The Way of the North 87 
 
 post and besides he never gets drunk these days till 
 after dark." 
 
 I thought over these things strenuously while we were 
 passing from the quarters to the great house, and the 
 more I considered the more my equanimity returned. 
 The Commander, from the picture I had formed of him, 
 was not a man to be over feared, and it has long been 
 my custom in meeting with great personages to treat 
 them as if they were human and had sympathies like 
 my own. If one attempts no pose but shows himself 
 exactly as he is, he will at least command respect for 
 his sincerity. 
 
 So it was with curiosity, rather than uneasiness, that 
 I noted the detail of the room which served Baranof as 
 an antechamber, and I felt that I made my entry with 
 satisfactory dignity and poise. The place was full of 
 people of different walks in life, some evidently sum 
 moned to answer to a charge, some with business, and 
 others come to show respect or ask some favour of the 
 Commander. Baranof himself sat in a small apartment 
 opening off of the main room, sufficiently removed to 
 make his conversation private when he was so inclined, 
 but at all times so placed that he could see what was 
 going on outside. 
 
 He saw me almost as I came in, but beyond a slight 
 nod of recognition paid no attention to me till it was 
 my turn to go up to his desk. Even then he continued 
 to search among his papers, and let me stand in front 
 of him for near a minute before he gave sign that he 
 knew that I was there. Then he motioned me silently 
 to a chair, and I sat down and waited with some im 
 patience for him to speak. Finally he seemed to find 
 the document he wanted, for he stopped fumbling
 
 88 The Way of the North 
 
 with the rest and opening the paper ran it hurriedly 
 through. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch," he said without raising his 
 eyes from the sheet, "what is your reason for coming 
 here from Okhotsk?" Sooner or later, I had felt that 
 this inquiry would have to come, and I was not alto 
 gether unprepared. If there had been no sinister 
 herald of my coming, I should have made a clean breast 
 of the matter when asked. But knowing that Baranof 
 had been forewarned, it was not in me to give colour, just 
 or unjust, to my case through overwagging of my tongue. 
 
 "You have had despatches," I said with dignity. 
 "My self-respect would scarcely allow me to say more 
 than has been told you there." Baranofs keen eyes 
 came up suddenly from the paper to my face. Some 
 thing in my answer had evidently startled him from 
 his usual calm. 
 
 "What do you know," he asked gravely, tapping the 
 letter with his finger as he spoke, "of what the governor 
 has said of you in this ? " I felt my face redden, and I 
 hated myself and him that I should be confused. 
 
 "Nothing, of my own knowledge," I said bitterly, 
 "but I can guess that from his own standpoint he has 
 told the truth." Baranof breathed contentedly and 
 settled himself again easily in his chair. When he 
 looked at me again it was with a smile that shone in his 
 eyes and wrinkled the corners of his mouth. 
 
 "How much," he said irrelevantly, "you are like your 
 father when he was your age." It was an observation 
 for which I was not prepared, and I waited in silence 
 what he would say next. He came back to the subject 
 without haste and his voice took on a softness that was 
 almost kind.
 
 The Way of the North 89 
 
 "What if the governor has been merciful instead of 
 just ?" he asked, still looking at me with half-open eyes. 
 " What if the charge against you is not so bad after all ? " 
 I could not but believe that he was playing with me in 
 thus thrusting his hands among the strings of my pride, 
 but so foolish a thing is hope that at his words, involun 
 tarily, I felt it warm and kindle at my heart. 
 
 "It would be but fair," I said doggedly, "but before 
 I give credit, I must know more surely what was said." 
 Baranof laughed outright. 
 
 "And the father s spirit!" he said joyfully. "You 
 shall read it for yourself." He took up the letter and 
 turned it back so that only a portion of its contents 
 could be seen. 
 
 "This is the part that concerns you," he said as he put 
 it into my hand. I took the paper mechanically and 
 turned it so that the light would allow it to be read. 
 It was a close half sheet in the governor s precise hand, 
 and though I was familiar with the script I found it 
 slow and hard to read. 
 
 "As to the young man you asked for," it said, "I 
 send him by this ship. When I tell you that he is 
 Kiril Alexandrovitch s son, with all the markings of 
 the breed, you will want no further pedigree. He is 
 young yet, and has a boy s faults of impatience and hot 
 head, which you in time, no doubt, will find the means 
 to cool. But he does not know how to lie, and when he 
 gives you his hand it is as certain as if he wrote the 
 matter down. You can trust him as yourself, and 
 he can tell you many things I would not care to write. 
 He does not know that he bears a charge, and I trust 
 you to correct with him the thought that I was harsh 
 with him in the manner of his sending. But beyond
 
 go The Way of the North 
 
 all this, Alexander, you will like him in that he is to-day 
 what you and Kiril and I were when we had the world 
 before us, and the spell had not fastened itself upon us 
 which still keeps us blindly anchored to this devil s 
 land. You, they tell me, have a daughter, and that 
 must be much. But I am a lonely man, and this boy 
 has stirred up in me wistful memories so much so 
 that I can never look at him without feeling that he has 
 become to me what my own boy would have been if he 
 had lived till now. And so even if he does not appeal 
 to you for his own sake but he will be good to him 
 for Kiril s sake and mine." 
 
 I laid the letter back again and sat blinking con 
 fusedly at Baranof without a word. The message was 
 so different from what I had expected that for the mo 
 ment I was fairly dazed. It spoke with the kindly 
 spirit I had always encountered in the governor before 
 my last affair; and as I thought upon his fulsome praise 
 of me, his assumption that with all my thirty years I 
 was but yet a boy, and the garrulous tenderness of the 
 old man, my eyes were full of tears. Baranof watched 
 me with amusement in his face. 
 
 "Well," he said, "was he over-charitable or do you 
 think he told the truth ? " The words brought me 
 back to myself with a rush, and I flushed to the roots 
 of my hair. 
 
 "The governor is truly lavish with good words," I 
 answered "so lavish, indeed, that I find them hard to 
 reconcile with the absence of them when we parted 
 last." 
 
 "But he himself says they were not intended." 
 
 "True," I said, my anger rising as I thought of the 
 henrtsiokness and bitter shame I had been made to
 
 The Way of the North 91 
 
 feel, "but what sanction had he for so flaunting me 
 before them all and of pinning to me for all time 
 such evil name?" Baranof made a gesture of impa 
 tience. 
 
 "You are younger than I thought," he said coldly, 
 "or perhaps less nimble in your wits. Can you not 
 see that sent out as an open servant of the Company 
 you might be of less service to me than if you came 
 discredited so that I could, if I chose, frown upon your 
 living here at all?" 
 
 Then as I struggled to collect my thoughts it came 
 to me what it all meant, and the reason for the ruse the 
 governor had used. My heart was too sore to turn 
 the matter with a jest, yet I could but admit to myself, 
 as I considered it in my mind, that, the need of hiding 
 granted, the thing had been both well and fairly done. 
 And then, too, it is poor use to show anger and push 
 blindly against a wall. 
 
 "I see it now," I said with such composure as re 
 mained to me. "It was a sacrifice that good might 
 come. And, for this time, for the sake of the Company, 
 I am to hold no wrath." Baranof straightened himself 
 quickly and answered before the words had fairly left 
 my mouth. 
 
 " Not only this, but every time," he said with earnest 
 ness. "It is the first lesson that is given you to learn. 
 In this land, the Company is not a business only, to 
 be put on and off at a whim. To you, to me, and 
 every soul it touches, it is God himself, and there are no 
 other gods before Him. It feeds the Indians and 
 clothes and pays the whites, and there is no room under 
 it for anything that does not yield obedience to its 
 will. Look at the charter granting it, which fixes and
 
 92 The Way of the North 
 
 defines its powers. Shelikof, in our begetting, promised 
 for us two things: we must be both law and gospel to 
 the people we should find, and above all things we 
 must extend the territory of the Czar. For this we 
 are allowed to keep the skins we find as a reward 
 but of them, even, the Little Father gets his honest 
 share. The obligation to go out and govern was at 
 first a permission and a request, but it was a request 
 that since by ukase has grown into a command. The 
 pelts we take as they come, and their getting is the end. 
 But with the lands it is a different thing, for after we 
 get them we have to go on holding them with our lives. 
 It was for this we were made the only power. If 
 there is to be order, we must not only be agents of the 
 Czar, but the Czar himself." 
 
 "But Lastockin claims " I began; Baranof got 
 to his feet with a roar and came round to my side of the 
 desk. 
 
 "Damn Lastockin," he thundered in his heavy 
 voice, "and Lebedef and every Russian of their greedy 
 breed ! While we were making the road, there was no 
 man of them that dared to come. But now, because 
 we have squeezed out an extra rouble in this place, 
 every cowardly dog of them is licking the heels of the 
 Czar for permission to come and scrape in our dirt for 
 the kopeks we have missed. They are the curse of 
 the land they and the priests, and I am not sure which 
 is the worse." He stood by the door as he spoke, his 
 eyes roaming restlessly over the faces of the people 
 waiting in the outer room. His glance rested on Joassaf 
 Petrovitch where he sat, and he glowered at him with 
 ill-concealed malevolence. 
 
 "What do you know of the priest who came with you
 
 The Way of the North 93 
 
 in the ship?" he asked, wheeling suddenly back so as 
 to address me. "Is he meddlesome?" 
 
 "No," I answered, "he is absolutely a child when it 
 comes to a question of affairs. Just now he believes 
 that he has a mission to go out single-handed and 
 wrestle with the heathen in the wilderness. But he 
 could stay here a year and you would never hear of 
 him either in comment or complaint unless indeed 
 he got the idea that you needed jogging in your own 
 personal conscience." 
 
 "I wish I could believe it," he said with a sigh. "I 
 would keep him in place of the archimandrite and ship 
 the others back to Kadiak." The thought evidently took 
 hold upon his mind, for he stood silent for some moments 
 thinking, and idly tapping with his fingers on the desk. 
 
 "Well," he said finally and quite as if I had been 
 urging the matter on him, "I will talk with him and 
 see." He had the air of dismissing the subject and me 
 together, and I rose to go. 
 
 "They tell me you are a doctor," he continued. 
 "That will make it easy for you to find a place to fit 
 yourself into, in the life of the post. There is much 
 I want to talk to you about, but it will take more than 
 one day to get it out. Go up stairs from the hallway, 
 and in the room over this you will find the women of 
 the house. They will console you for your troubles 
 with me and give you a little tea. After dinner I will 
 talk with you again." 
 
 I bowed and moved toward the door. As I reached 
 it I turned to bow again; but Baranof was back at his 
 desk with his head bent down over his papers, and a 
 moment later I heard the sharp tap of his pen that 
 called the next man to his side.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE room above was not so large as the great ante 
 room, but for that reason it was more homelike and 
 pleasant to be in. It was furnished as I had thought 
 to find no house this side of the sea. The floor was 
 warm with a carpet of soft red, the windows draped 
 with curtains, and the walls hung with paintings of 
 size some portraits and the others counterfeits of the 
 great and interesting things of life. There was an open 
 hearth in which a fire blazed brightly, and at a near 
 distance from it the women had established themselves 
 with their tables and petty work. 
 
 There were three of them in the apartment, Anna 
 Gregorovna, Marfa Alexandrovna, and a third, more 
 elderly, whom I had never before seen. My entrance 
 was so lightly made that they did not hear me come 
 and I stopped a moment, just inside the door, till they 
 should notice me. The elder woman saw me first and 
 spoke softly to the others. Marfa Alexandrovna 
 raised her head from her work and recognised me at 
 once. She bowed pleasantly and, getting to her feet, 
 waited expectantly for me to come to her. But Anna 
 Gregorovna did not wait. Her work slipped to her 
 feet, and with a cry she came skimming across the 
 floor to me with both hands outstretched. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch," she said impulsively, "it is 
 good to see you again." I felt my pulse jump quickly 
 at her touch. Though it was but a few hours since we 
 
 94
 
 The Way of the North 95 
 
 had left the ship, the time had been spent among 
 strangers, and it came to me as a real pleasure once more 
 to see her face. She herself was like a child in her 
 enjoyment. 
 
 "I did not know what it was I missed," she said 
 frankly, "and they have been very kind to me here. 
 But everything has been new and strange around me, 
 and now I know it was you, because you were the usual 
 thing." She kept my hand and delayed me as I would 
 have gone across to where the others stood. 
 
 "And have you seen Alexei?" she whispered, with 
 a sidelong look at them as if she were ashamed that they 
 should hear. "Is he then so very ill ?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered, lowering my voice in acceptance 
 of the confidence, "I have seen him and he is really ill. 
 When the time serves, I will tell you about it." 
 
 She stood aside and we advanced together across 
 the room. Marfa Alexandrovna also offered me 
 her hand. 
 
 "Will you come and sit with us while we work, Fedor 
 Kirilovitch ? " she asked in her even voice. I thanked 
 her and drew up the proffered chair from where it stood 
 against the wall. As I did so, I felt a touch upon my 
 arm and turned to find the blind boy at my side. I had 
 not noticed him before, and he must have come in after 
 my entrance into the room. As before, for a moment 
 his fingers fluttered over my sleeve and down along my 
 hand. 
 
 "You are Fedor Kirilovitch," he declared quietly. 
 " I saw you this morning at the beach." 
 
 "That is true," I said, "and I am glad that you re 
 member me, for we shall probably see each other 
 many times from this day on." I took his hand and
 
 96 The Way of the North 
 
 would have drawn him close to me, but he pulled him 
 self away and went across to a settle that stood by the 
 table where his sister sat. 
 
 "I will sit in my own place," he announced in his high, 
 unaccented voice, and climbing up, he settled himself 
 with his hands in his lap, his head thrown back, and 
 his whole sense alert to hear us when we talked. 
 
 There is a sense of discomfort that comes with the 
 presence of the unfortunate who lack the full round of 
 their powers a discomfort that to me is something 
 between awe and fear. I have only pity for them in 
 my heart, but there is ever the uneasiness in being near 
 them. But the sight of the little fellow sitting there in 
 that helpless way stirred me to the routing of my 
 repugnance, and the expression of the matter came 
 involuntarily to my lips. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" I said almost under my breath. 
 Low as the comment was, Marfa Alexandrovna heard me 
 and held up a warning hand. 
 
 "Sh-h," she said in caution, speaking almost entirely 
 with the lips. "Do not pity him. He has never 
 known anything else." She smiled and shook her head 
 as she spoke and I became silent, abashed at the 
 carelessness of my mistake. And further it added little 
 to my peace of mind to see that the old lady at her side 
 was covertly but accurately looking me over from her 
 place. Marfa Alexandrovna saw my embarrassment 
 and was quick to help. 
 
 "You have not met Marya Andreievna," she said. 
 "She is my aunt, my father s sister, and has been a full 
 mother to me since my own mother died." She put 
 out her hand and patted the old lady s sleeve as she 
 spoke, and the latter took her eyes from me long enough
 
 The Way of the North 97 
 
 to look at her niece with quick understanding in her 
 glance, and then let them come back again to me. 
 
 "This is Fedor," the girl continued, "son of Kiril 
 Stefanovitch Delarof, whom you will remember as a 
 friend." The old lady bent down her head to the left 
 and looked at me sidewise like a bird. She was small 
 and thin and had round black eyes like beads. 
 
 "Your father was a good man," she said with 
 some conviction. "I danced with him when I was a 
 girl." She shook her head with such vigour that her 
 curls stirred animatedly on each side. Both girls 
 laughed at her gentle positiveness, and Marfa Alex- 
 androvna said: 
 
 " You will be glad that he has come. He is a doctor 
 and can be of use to you." The old lady bestowed on 
 me another searching glance. 
 
 "I have not had a day s illness for over fifteen years," 
 she said with prompt decision, "and I have about as 
 much use for a doctor as I would have for last year s 
 snow." 
 
 " But what of your sick, mamochka ? " 
 
 "There have none of them died," said the old lady 
 dryly. 
 
 "But surely there are some with whom he could be 
 of use," persisted the girl demurely. "There is Potap 
 Burikof, for instance." Marya Andreievna looked 
 from me to her and fairly shook with the vehemence 
 of her scorn. I saw that, unwittingly, I had stumbled 
 on a rival practitioner and that Marfa Alexandrovna 
 in a spirit of mischief was amusing herself by playing 
 on her pride of professional skill. 
 
 "Potap Burikof!" she burst out, "Potap Burikof! 
 He has no sickness beyond the laziness that makes it
 
 98 The Way of the North 
 
 hard for his wife on cold mornings to get him off the 
 stove!" Marfa Alexandrovna laughed out trium 
 phantly. 
 
 "That is what I have been telling you all winter," 
 she said, "but you know you have never been willing 
 to admit it before." 
 
 The old lady glared at her in speechless disapproval. 
 Then catching from her eyes and the demure pucker of 
 her mouth that the girl had wilfully led her into wrath, 
 she turned on her with unexpected energy and carried 
 the war back into the enemy s ground. 
 
 " My poor, indeed ! " she said with a sniff. " Why do 
 you not put him to try his skill on something that 
 belongs to you ? I have no doubt that if you would ask 
 him, he would put that pink and white lieutenant you 
 are so fond of again upon his feet." 
 
 To me it was as if she had put a bomb-shell under 
 neath our feet. There was an instant s pause in w r hich 
 no one spoke. The old lady felt that she had gone too 
 far, and, looking timidly at her niece to see how she 
 would take it, held her tongue. Having talked with the 
 lieutenant, I felt that Marfa Alexandrovna s position 
 was not an easy one. I glanced at Anna Gregorovna 
 and was pleased to see that the thing came to her with 
 no peculiar force. 
 
 But with Marfa Alexandrovna it was different. She 
 did not raise her eyes from her work, but her face went 
 fairly white and as quickly blossomed out with red. 
 The colour flushed her ears and neck as well, and held 
 there while she struggled to regain her calm. But it was 
 the suddenness of the attack that caught her napping, 
 and almost immediately she was on her guard. Raising 
 her head she looked her aunt squarely in the eye,
 
 The Way of the North 99 
 
 though when she spoke there was still a shadow of 
 unsteadiness in her voice. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch is to live at the barracks," she 
 said quietly, "and no doubt will find time to give the 
 lieutenant the service that he needs." Then turning 
 to Anna Gregorovna, she continued: "You have been 
 wishing to hear from Alexei Yegorovitch. It is 
 probable that Fedor Kirilovitch can tell you what you 
 wish to know." Thus challenged, I looked at Anna 
 Gregorovna, who at the words had dropped her work 
 in her lap and sat with lips parted in breathless ex 
 pectation. 
 
 "What I have to tell is neither good news nor bad," 
 I answered. "The Lieutenant Sookin has come over 
 the hill-top of his trouble for this time, and until there 
 comes a recurrence of the bleeding he will be as well 
 as he was before. There is no need of special skill for 
 his advantage. He is still weak, but it is a case for 
 woman s nursing, rather than surgeon s care." The 
 old lady could not resist the chance to take another 
 trick. 
 
 "There, Marfa," she said, "that is exactly what you 
 said yesterday when you came back." 
 
 "We did take care of him," spoke up the blind boy 
 suddenly, "but he was very sick." Anna Gregorovna 
 looked at Marfa Alexandrovna in some surprise. 
 
 "Why, you would not go with me to-day," she said. 
 
 "No," returned the Creole, her Indian stoicism of 
 blood standing her in good stead. There being a 
 doctor come, I thought it best to leave the case to him." 
 
 "But now he has spoken, surely it can be done." 
 Marfa Alexandrovna s lip trembled and her composure 
 began to give way.
 
 too The Way of the North 
 
 "You must ask him, not me," she said with a 
 pathetic attempt at a smile. But Anna Gregorovna 
 was too absorbed in her desire, to note that in the 
 manner of the other girl there was anything amiss. 
 She got quickly to her feet and came over to me with 
 all the excitement of a child. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch," she said coaxingly, "you have 
 done so much for me that I know you will not refuse me 
 this." I looked down on her impatience with tolerant 
 amusement. 
 
 "Joy seldom kills," I said smilingly, "and if you are 
 sure you can be discreet in your expression, your going 
 will help instead of harm." 
 
 "But when when? Will you take me now?" I 
 looked at Marfa Alexandrovna and it came to me that 
 perhaps it would be a relief to her and save her the 
 embarrassment of an impossible position, if I should 
 undertake the thing as Anna Gregorovna wished. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "if the going will not be a dis 
 courtesy to our hosts." Marfa Alexandrovna rose 
 to her feet and turned from us so that we could not 
 see her face. 
 
 "There is an hour yet before dinner," she said with 
 constraint, "if you think that will give you time." 
 Anna Gregorovna waited no further sanction. Her 
 eyes were radiant and her feet scarce seemed to touch 
 the floor. She darted away like a bird, disappeared 
 through a further door, and almost as instantly returned 
 with a wrap which she wound round her shoulders and 
 head. 
 
 "Come," she said, and took me by the hand. I 
 bowed to the other women as we went. Marya 
 Andreievna acknowledged the attention and courtesied
 
 The Way of the North 101 
 
 in kind, but Marfa Alexandrovna stood looking at the 
 window and did not turn to see us go. 
 
 The distance was so short there was small time for 
 talk, and indeed Anna Gregorovna was so intent on 
 the coming meeting with her lover that she was beyond 
 the thought of speech. Only, when I looked down at 
 her, she smiled up again with a radiance that was a 
 measure of the fullness of her content. 
 
 I have never cared for women, and it has been a matter 
 of remark for me that men should desire one of them 
 rather than another; but as I watched her face and 
 thought of what we had been through together, and, 
 further, of the happiness it was within her gift to give 
 the man she loved, I felt a sudden pang down in my 
 heart to think that through her such happiness would 
 never come to me. I believe that I could have made 
 her happy if fate had given me the chance. 
 
 "Wait here," I said, when we reached the living-room 
 of the barracks, and she obediently sat down. Before 
 permitting entry, I thought it best to see the sick man 
 and prepare him for the coming. I had no liking for 
 the report that my first patient at the post died promptly, 
 even of joy, under my hand. Yet as I went in to this 
 laggard lover, I felt a surly resentment stirring at my 
 heart. 
 
 A man may change his mind about a woman and 
 have none the less of my esteem, for there is no mystery 
 deeper and more unfathomable than the mystery of 
 choice. But when a man has given his hand in promise, 
 it is a wrong and unmanly thing to draw it back, or 
 even to press lightly, while the lady still gives up to him 
 the full measure of her grasp. So it was a breeder of 
 constraint in me that I should be called upon to lead the
 
 102 The Way of the North 
 
 woman deeper in and put the offending lover where he 
 could further play the traitor to her trust. 
 
 I found him better for the afternoon s rest. He 
 was sitting up in bed with the table drawn close to him 
 so that he could the more easily reach his bottle and 
 glass, and on the coverlid in front of him were spread, 
 face up, the cards with which he had been playing 
 some contest with himself. 
 
 "Well met, Fedor Kirilovitch," he called out gaily 
 as I came in. "I have been playing against myself for 
 the vodka and have w r on so often my head is like a 
 balloon. Sit down, man, and I will beat you at any 
 thing you say." I came to him and, taking his wrist, 
 felt carefully for his pulse. It was fairly regular, 
 considering his weakened state, and I knew it could 
 do him no harm to see the girl. 
 
 "I have brought you a visitor," I said with a smile. 
 "That is if you are well enough to stand the strain 
 of her visit." His eyes came up steadily to mine, 
 and rested there, but I felt his pulse run quicker 
 under my hand. 
 
 "Not Marfa?" he suggested wistfully, his lips almost 
 parted into a smile. 
 
 "No, by God!" I answered sharply. "It is Anna 
 Gregorovna, your betrothed." His eyes dropped and 
 he remained silent, picking nervously at the coverlid 
 while he thought the matter out. 
 
 "Yes, that is so," he said simply. 
 
 "Well," I said after a pause, "shall I bring her in?" 
 
 "Wait a moment," he pleaded, "I want to talk to 
 you. Has Marfa told her?" By all the rules I 
 should have hardened my heart against him and given 
 no sympathy where so little was deserved. But the
 
 The Way of the North 103 
 
 assumption that I knew the facts and agreed with 
 him upon them, together with his frank appeal to my 
 judgment and willingness to reserve disapprobation, 
 fairly took my breath away, and almost before I knew 
 it, drew me to answer him in accordance with his 
 desire. 
 
 "No," I said, "as far as I have seen, she has told 
 nothing." 
 
 "Thank God," he said, "that makes it easier." 
 Then after a moment s silence, "Fedor Kirilovitch, you 
 are a man of the world. What would you do in a case 
 like this?" 
 
 "It depends entirely upon you," I answered. "If 
 the thing has passed for you, tell her so like a man." 
 
 "Oh, I couldn t do that," he said with a shiver. 
 "Just think how far she has come!" 
 
 "Well, then," I said rather grimly, "as a gentleman, 
 there is only one thing you can do. Drop the other 
 one completely and keep your word with this one to the 
 last amen." His face flushed with a sudden enthusiasm 
 of determination. 
 
 "I ll do it," he said eagerly. "You will see. She 
 shall never know." Then as suddenly his face fell and 
 he sat silent, looking out into the room beyond me with 
 vacant eyes. 
 
 "And Marfa?" he said softly, and there was a 
 tenderness in his voice I had not caught before. "Poor 
 Marfa!" 
 
 "Be decent, man," I growled, "if you are really going 
 to give her up. Besides, she is a Creole, and you could 
 not legally marry her anyway, under the law." 
 
 "It would be legal here," he said absently, "and 
 for that matter I do not care much anyway." I felt
 
 104 The Way of the North 
 
 my anger rising at his vacillation and brought him up 
 with a sharp turn. 
 
 "Well, shall I bring this one in now?" He caught 
 feebly at any straw that promised him delay. 
 
 "Wait until I get a drink of this," he said, and 
 reached hastily for his glass, but before he could pour 
 the liquor out there was a sound of knocking at the 
 door. Alexei Yegorovitch paused with the bottle in 
 his hand, his eyes fixed upon the spot from which the 
 knocking came. The door opened slowly and the 
 question solved itself with the appearance of Anna 
 Gregorovna in the doorway. She had awaited the 
 expected summons till her patience had vanished and 
 then without hesitation had cut the Gordian knot. 
 The lieutenant quailed visibly and set the glass swiftly 
 back upon the table. 
 
 "Do not go," he said hurriedly. "It will be easier 
 with another here. I will do it. You will see, 1 he 
 added in a whisper. I got to my feet with anger and 
 distrust struggling madly together in my heart, and 
 looked unsteadily at Anna Gregorovna. For full a 
 moment she stood motionless in the doorway, and there 
 was that of love and the glory of happiness in her eyes 
 that any man might have been glad to see. Then she 
 gave a little cry and came with a rush across the room. 
 
 "You brute!" I said under my breath. 
 
 "I know it," he assented meekly, "but it doesn t 
 help the matter now." He let himself back against 
 the cushions as if his weakness was too great to allow 
 of other pose, but his face turned toward her with a light 
 that was almost genuine, and, as she bent above him, 
 his arm went as of right about her shoulders and he drew 
 her down.
 
 The Way of the North 105 
 
 "My darling he said brokenly, and held her 
 close. 
 
 My breath went out of my throat like a blast of 
 wind, in witness of my disgust at his dissimulation. I 
 knew that if I stayed longer I should strike him and 
 spoil the pretty plot we had devised. So I got quickly 
 to my feet, and muttering excuses which were wasted, 
 for they neither saw nor heard me, I went hurriedly 
 away. 
 
 In the outer room I found the pope with his arms on 
 the table and his face drawn down, the picture of des 
 pair. He looked up as I came in and his expression 
 changed to one of deep reproach. 
 
 "Fedor," he said, "why did you tell the Commander 
 that I was an honest man?" In other seasons, the 
 question would have stirred me to a smile, but I was 
 too overwrought to find the humour in it now. 
 
 "Do not be a fool," I said harshly. "What would 
 you have me tell him that you were?" 
 
 "That which would at least have left me where I 
 was in his esteem; but now he likes me." I saw that 
 my chance word of mediation had borne sudden fruit. 
 
 "Then you are to stay in Sitka?" I said, coming 
 eagerly to his side. 
 
 "I knew that you were at the bottom of it," he said 
 mournfully, waving me away. "No, I cannot stay 
 in Sitka, though the offer was kindly made." 
 
 "But why? Why are you not satisfied with what 
 is here ? " He looked up at me almost pleadingly and 
 I could see that it was a struggle with him to hold 
 himself unmoved. 
 
 "Why do you tempt me?" he asked tremulously. 
 "Has it come to it that you, Fedor, urge me to turn aside
 
 io6 The Way of the North 
 
 from what I know to be right? I have told you my 
 call was not to services like these." I am afraid that 
 as I looked at him there, so shaken by the struggle 
 he was going through, there weighed slightly with me 
 for the moment the necessity for his mission and the 
 consecration he put upon his work. I thought of 
 him only as an old man, bent and broken, and yet the 
 only creature in this whole strange world that was 
 bound to me by the ties of voluntary love. I bent above 
 him and put my arm about his narrow shoulders. 
 
 "Joassaf," I said, "I would not turn you wrongly 
 from any bond of right, but have you thought what it 
 will be to me to have you go away?" He did not 
 speak or look back at me, but resolutely shook his head. 
 I spoke to him again, but got no answer. So I talked 
 to him as I would, entreating him to his advantage 
 and urging both the mercy and the justice of the claim, 
 while he listened on unwillingly, yet afraid to answer 
 lest he should give way. How long we continued so I 
 do not know, but while we remained with our arms 
 around each other like two girls, the door of Alexei 
 Yegorovitch s chamber opened and Anna Gregorovna 
 came out into the room. I straightened myself hastily 
 with a guilty feeling as if I had been doing an improper 
 thing; but she paid no heed to our embarrassment and 
 really did not seem to see. 
 
 "I am ready now, Fedor Kirilovitch," she said 
 shyly. I looked earnestly at her to see how she had 
 fared. Her face was flushed and on it were the signs 
 of tears. But her eyes had still their expression of 
 serene joy, and I knew that the tears had been tears 
 of happiness and that Alexei Yegorovitch had been 
 as good as his word. I bowed in answer and was
 
 The Way of the North 107 
 
 silent as to what I felt inside. But I had no mouth for 
 talking and she no wish to interrupt her thoughts, so 
 our progress back to the great house was made without 
 a word.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT is now ten days since we came to land, and Alexei 
 Yegorovitch is still in bed. It may be that his malady 
 is more vital than it seemed and that he justly claims 
 the privilege of rest. But if I were called upon to 
 diagnose the case, I should say that his ailment was 
 not so much of body as of mind. He eats with sufficient 
 zest and his score for liquor is large enough for two. 
 But he has lost the spontaneity of manner that was 
 his early charm, and the smile with which he looked upon 
 the world has given way to an almost pathetic gravity. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna comes to him each morning and 
 makes the sunlight for him until noon. The after 
 noon she gives to the care of the blind boy, Paul, and 
 is away from her lover for the time. Once or twice 
 she has brought the boy with her to the barracks and so 
 finished out the day, but for the most part her duties 
 have taken her elsewhere. 
 
 As for Marfa Alexandrovna, she has not yet once 
 set foot within the barracks since we came ashore. 
 To what tender passages the relations between her and 
 the lieutenant had already come, I can only guess. 
 But granting their existence, it is plain to see the lady s 
 pride has dragged itself to cover to conceal its pain, 
 there to wait in silence the healing of the wound. 
 
 On the whole, the man has seen the worst of the 
 affair, in that his sickness has taken from him the relief 
 of work, and he can only lie and think and curse the 
 
 1 08
 
 The Way of the North 109 
 
 fortune that has so embroiled him. It was hard for 
 him to believe that the Creole now looks on him with 
 different eyes, and for a week at least he watched and 
 waited for her, with the air of one certain of her coming. 
 But she has made no sign, and all in all her silence has 
 so worn upon him that he looks but languidly on life. 
 
 With Anna Gregorovna, however, the matter has 
 been different. Alexei Yegorovitch has been faithful 
 to his word, and she has caught no hint of his defection. 
 Her heart is light and her hope unchallenged, and 
 the only cloud on her horizon is the shadow of ill- 
 health that keeps the lieutenant in his bed. But even 
 that shadow is no presentiment of real danger. She 
 is impatient of it as a maiden might be, hindered of her 
 wedding-day, but apparently it has never entered her 
 mind that, through it, that wedding-day may never 
 come to be. 
 
 A most curious portion of the matter is the mighty 
 pleasure the thing has brought to me. Aside from the 
 lieutenant, I am the only soul who can be said to have 
 a claim upon the lady s past. The others count as 
 strangers to her, but between us two the dangers and 
 vigils of the ship remain a lasting bond of sympathy, and 
 she turns to me for comfort and direction with all the 
 innocence and frankness of a child. I do for her the 
 petty services that would fall upon Alexei were he well. 
 She looks to me to occupy agreeably her mind during 
 the leisure evening hours, and Baranof has assigned 
 to me the task of seeing that no harm comes to her or 
 to the child in their outdoor rambles about the place. 
 
 To myself I may confess it that the obligation has 
 been greatly to my taste. Not that it has added to my 
 peace of mind. I am fond of the girl and like to have
 
 no The Way of the North 
 
 her with me, and were she not formally betrothed to 
 Alexei Yegorovitch, I can conceive that she might 
 come to fill the entire place in my thought. But the 
 recognition of the fact that she is fully promised has 
 served to check such freedom between us as might look 
 toward disloyalty to him; though, strangely enough, 
 inside that boundary it has acted to render our inter 
 course most marvellously free. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna never forgets the bar that is 
 between us, and trusting equally to my honesty that 
 I will not forget it, grants me the freedom of intimacy 
 that usually comes to men and women only with friend 
 ship of slower growth. And, so far, I have met her in 
 good faith and have not overstepped the line. Only, 
 not being wholly used to women, there are times when 
 before acting I have to stop to think. 
 
 In cold truth, however, what reason is there on my 
 part for the exercise of denial in the matter, except, 
 perhaps, that it is pleasing to the lady that I should ? 
 Alexei Yegorovitch is no bosom friend that there should 
 lie on me the charge to hold his honour as my own; 
 and then, too, with the knowledge in my mind of his 
 leaning toward Baranof s daughter, there is strong 
 question in me of his right at all to union with his 
 betrothed. 
 
 These reflections have lost nothing in their influence 
 that Peter Nicolaievitch shares them equally with 
 myself. From the first, I could not look with equanim 
 ity on the love passages between the sick man and the 
 girl, and we were not three days along before I thought 
 lessly let my feeling into words. We had caught from 
 our own room the parting of the pair at the door of 
 Alexei s apartment, and some show of fervour in him
 
 The Way of the North in 
 
 that seemed a supererogation stirred me to condem 
 natory speech. Peter looked and listened, following 
 the lover s doings with half-shut eyes. 
 
 "Don t be hard on him," he said coaxingly. "He 
 likes her well enough, only he likes the other one, too. 
 You would do about the same if you were in his place. 
 He had not seen the first one for over three years, and 
 that is a long time for a boy. It s lonely in this country, 
 and with a girl to his hand like Marfa Alexandrovna, 
 it is no wonder he forgot the look of the other and began 
 to dream of the one that he could see." 
 
 "Still, a man has no right I began hotly, but 
 
 Peter put up his hand. 
 
 "Man dear, what difference does the right make 
 when you once get the idea that a woman loves you? 
 There is only one thing then that seems worth doing, 
 and that is to find out if it is true. Now in Marfa s 
 case, Alexei has been finding out." 
 
 "Much good it has done him," I retorted scornfully. 
 "He has had to come back to the first one in the end." 
 Peter Nicolaievitch leaned forward and tapped me on 
 the knee. 
 
 "There is where he is making his mistake," he said 
 confidently. "He ought to marry Marfa and let the 
 little lady go." 
 
 "But how, in honour, could he do it?" 
 
 " Honour be damned ! " said Peter emphatically. " In 
 a case like this it is kindest to do what is best." It 
 grated on me somehow that he should compare Anna 
 Gregorovna to her loss. 
 
 "Why," I objected, "is a marriage with Marfa 
 Alexandrovna the only good?" 
 
 "For him?" he rejoined promptly, "Well, first,
 
 ii2 The Way of the North 
 
 because he thinks more of her than of the lady from 
 across the sea; and then, because Marfa Alexandrovna 
 is more suited to this country and will make him a bet 
 ter wife. It would give a mighty boost to his prospects, 
 too, if the company had to think of him as her father s 
 son. And lastly, my boy, I am fond of Marfa Alex 
 androvna and she is a good girl, and I should like to 
 see her get what she wants." 
 
 "Which means that you would sacrifice the other 
 one to her ? " Peter turned and gazed at me with sud 
 den speculation in his glance. 
 
 "Look here," he said, "why do you take such a 
 tremendous interest in this case? What is it to you?" 
 
 The question was unexpected, and for the moment I 
 failed to see my way to answering it out of hand. It is 
 clear to me now that my interest was simply that of a 
 man who saw injustice to a woman done. But in the 
 suddenness of the interrogation the matter seemed to 
 demand a reason more rigidly defined. 
 
 "I am not sure," I said with some hesitation, "that 
 I have any interest in it at all." Peter s face beamed 
 with a sudden illumination and he got eagerly to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Why don t you?" he asked enthusiastically. "By 
 the fish of Saint Mikhail, it is a great idea! What is to 
 hinder your marrying Anna Gregorovna and letting 
 Marfa Alexandrovna have the lieutenant if she likes?" 
 There was a possible imputation in his words that sent 
 the glow of irritation to my face, and a hot rejoinder 
 trembled on my lips. I had only to look at Peter 
 Nicolaievitch, however, to see that the idea was new 
 to him and not an implication that had been lingering 
 in his mind, and my anger cooled again as suddenly
 
 The Way of the North 113 
 
 as it had begun. He was like a child in his delight of 
 having thought of it. 
 
 "It straightens everything," he repeated joyously. 
 "Why didn t I think of it before ?" 
 
 I tried in vain to argue with him that I was neither 
 fit nor of a mind for such a venture, but he would have 
 none of it. In ten minutes my part in the matter had 
 grown from a pleasure to a personal duty; and in 
 fifteen minutes, the duty was one that would admit of 
 no delay. At length I abandoned the ground of per 
 sonal convenience as an argument in resistance, and 
 attacked him on the other side. 
 
 "How about the lady?" I asked with a smile. "She 
 is to be reckoned with as well as myself." 
 
 "Man, it s a Providence!" he answered. "The 
 Lord has delivered her into your hand. She is well 
 used to you, if she isn t in love with you and I m not 
 sure jiow but what she likes you as well as she does 
 him. Why, if I had your chance of luck with her, I 
 would go in and marry her myself." He was so in 
 earnest in the matter that I laughed outright. 
 
 "If I could square myself with my conscience, Peter," 
 I said, with assumed frankness, "I should like nothing 
 better than to help you out." 
 
 "Then you will try?" he persisted eagerly. 
 
 "No, no, the conscience still works." His face fell 
 in genuine disappointment. 
 
 "Well, think about it at least," he said persuasively, 
 and added with an insinuating sigh of conviction, "It s 
 a great idea!" 
 
 "All right," I answered, for it seemed best to make 
 an end to the matter in the easiest way. "I ll think 
 about it, if you like, but that is as far as it will go." His
 
 H4 
 
 spirits soared up at once to their former level of enthu 
 siasm, and he rose and took up his hat. 
 
 "The Lord Himself couldn t help you more than I 
 will," he said earnestly, "and I shall lose no time in 
 getting to work." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" I asked hastily, for 
 the fear was on me that he might be meditating action 
 that was .ill-advised. He stopped and looked at me 
 with assumed reproach. 
 
 "My boy," he said with mock solemnity, "at the very 
 least it is not good manners to ask Providence what it 
 is going to do for you. But I do not mind confiding to 
 you that I am about to go in to the sick man yonder to 
 say that I have had a vision concerning him and that 
 the Lord is going to let him see Marfa Alexandrovna 
 before the sun goes down to-night." I looked at him 
 in speechless amazement, and before I could recover 
 myself he had bowed to me with exaggerated gravity, 
 winked solemnly, and was gone. 
 
 It took some minutes space to restore my equa 
 nimity, but in the end peace came to me with a smile. 
 I had a premonition that Peter Nicolaievitch s prophecy 
 would prove false, and time has borne me out in my 
 opinion. It is now seven days since he assumed his 
 role of autocratic divinity, and his best effort has so far 
 failed to bend the unwilling lady to his wish. But even 
 if he did, it would not change me in my decision not to 
 cooperate with him in the plan. 
 
 He is right, of course, in that such conduct on my 
 part would not be treason to a friend, but somehow 
 the thought of the venture comes always to me with a 
 vague feeling of distaste. I never was a hand to pursue 
 a bird into another s field. Yet the idea hs a certain
 
 The Way of the North 115 
 
 baleful fascination about it that brings it up at intervals 
 in my mind, unconsciously, without my looking for it. 
 And worst of all, from the time I talked with Peter 
 Nicolaievitch I have not been able to look at Anna 
 Gregorovna without being secretly conscious of the 
 change. 
 
 "Why not?" it says, and sounds so loud in my ears 
 that more than once I have found myself with my heart 
 in my mouth, looking at her stealthily to see if she 
 had heard. This humour has so grown upon me that 
 to-day, when I came suddenly upon her in the open, my 
 pulse stirred in a real panic of uneasiness, and I was 
 fairly timid of approaching her. 
 
 The trees here, as elsewhere along this coast, grew 
 thickly down to the very beach, except that immediately 
 about the houses they had been cut away both for pro 
 tection and for use as little fields. The blind boy was 
 with her and they were halted at the edge of the meadow 
 formed by a larger clearing beyond the southern gate. 
 She had him by the hand and was urging him to touch 
 the muzzle of one of the cows we had brought over with 
 us in the ship the first ones since the beginning that 
 had so far been in this new land. The child was in a 
 flutter of excitement at the experience,!and now retreated 
 and now advanced with hand outstretched in delicious 
 apprehension. 
 
 "For shame, Paul, to be so fearful!" the girl urged 
 mockingly, as he hung back on her grasp, but the child 
 still hesitated. 
 
 "It breathes so hard, Anna," he pleaded earnestly, 
 "it disturbs me." She saw me coming and turned with 
 a smile. 
 
 "Here is Fedor Kirilovitch," she said with mock
 
 u6 The Way of the North 
 
 reassurance, " Now you will not be afraid ! " The boy 
 stopped struggling and listened a moment for my 
 approach; but his mind was too preoccupied with the 
 matter in hand, and recovering himself almost in 
 stantly, he answered her with growing earnestness in 
 his voice. 
 
 "I am not afraid, Anna," he said with an impatient 
 stamp of his foot. "You cannot say that I am afraid. 
 Only, the animal is new and I am not accustomed to it." 
 
 "Then why do you not put out your hand?" she 
 persisted mischievibusly. He turned to me with the 
 outraged dignity of childhood and beckoned me to 
 approach. 
 
 "I am not afraid, Fedor Kirilovitch. You know I 
 am not afraid! Tell Anna Gregorovna it is only that 
 I do not wish to do it alone. If others are going to 
 touch the animal I will do so, too." I took his hand. 
 
 "Why do you tease the child," I said reproachfully. 
 "It is all right, Paul, to be cautious with new things. 
 Anna Gregorovna laughed at you because she thought 
 you should believe her when she told you you would 
 not come to harm." The girl s face flushed and she 
 gave me a quick glance. 
 
 "I do not know where my heart was," she said softly. 
 "I had no thought he would be disturbed." With a 
 sudden access of tenderness she stooped and put her 
 arms around the shoulders of the child. He received 
 the caress passively except for a sudden uplifting of 
 the face to her in recognition, and turned again to me. 
 
 "Take me up," he commanded, stretching out his 
 arms. "I will touch the animal myself." I bent to 
 him in turn, and Anna Gregorovna would have let him 
 from her, but the blind boy clung to her as well.
 
 The Way of the North 117 
 
 "I want you, too," he declared. "We will touch 
 the animal together." Anna Gregorovna resigned 
 herself to the situation and kept her arm about him as 
 I took him up. Thus fortified, his misgivings passed 
 away, and he placed his hands according to direction 
 on the creature s neck. 
 
 "It is true, Anna, as you told me," he said gravely. 
 "There is no harm comes to one from the touching of 
 this cow." He ran his active fingers up and down the 
 animal s shoulder, alternately smoothing and ruffling 
 up the hair, and added meditatively: "I believe that 
 I should like her if she did not blow so with her nose." 
 Anna Gregorovna looked up at me with a smile of 
 understanding. 
 
 "I wish I really were the witch those people on the 
 boat thought me," she said irrelevantly. 
 
 "Why?" I returned, though the meaning in her eyes 
 was not hard to understand. She looked with signifi 
 cant wistfulness from me to the boy before she spoke. 
 
 "Oh, there are so many changes in things that I 
 would like to make!" I had been following the move 
 ments of the child rather than listening to her talk, and 
 her answer did not fix itself upon me definitely in words. 
 But something in it must have stirred a sudden memory 
 as I heard it, for, like a flash, I thought again of Peter 
 and his heart s desire for me and for this girl, and along 
 with it there came a pleasing consciousness of how near 
 to me she stood. 
 
 She was so close that her garments brushed me from 
 the shoulder to the knee, and the arm that was about the 
 child rested lightly across my breast. With Peter s 
 unhallowed prophecy in mind, I experienced a sensation 
 that was new to me in thus being touched, and one which
 
 n8 The Way of the North 
 
 stirred a feeling in me which it is still difficult to express. 
 If I had a thought for the instant it was to prolong the 
 delicious pleasure as widely as I could, and to that end 
 I forced the impulse to speak naturally in answer lest 
 she should guess the thought that was in my mind and 
 take fright and draw away. 
 
 "What would you change?" I ventured absently. 
 She looked again at the blind boy and her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 "For one thing, I would make windows in a tenement 
 I know of, that would let in the light." 
 
 "Without prejudice, I could join you in that," I 
 assented. Then as she showed no inclination to speak 
 further, I went on: "And this accomplished, what 
 would you do then ? " 
 
 "It was the one thought that brought the wish," she 
 answered readily, "but I can easily think of other 
 things that I would like to do. For instance," she said 
 with a flash of mischief in her eyes, "I would surely 
 order it that when you arrived in a strange place you 
 would find awaiting you the person and the greeting 
 you once told me that you missed." 
 
 "In this land, at least, that requires no further necro 
 mancy," I said quietly. "I have found her, and it, 
 without even the making of a wish." She flushed 
 prettily at the compliment and half bowed her head. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, "but I meant one who 
 would be to you all in all, and for all time." 
 
 "That," I answered promptly, "I am certain you 
 would never be able to conjure for me with all your 
 spells." 
 
 "Why not? You are surely not so conceited as to 
 believe that such a thing could never be ? "
 
 The Way of the North 119 
 
 "No," I answered, "it is a question of time rather 
 than of conceit. Your ministrations would come too 
 late." She looked up thoughtfully at me before she 
 spoke. 
 
 "Too late?" she repeated with feminine curiosity. 
 "Then after all she is already found?" 
 
 "Yes, found and lost in the finding." She looked 
 up again with her quick glance of sympathy. 
 
 "And you never told me!" she said softly. 
 
 "No, I have never told even her." No suspicion of 
 my meaning seemed to dawn upon her, and she stood 
 a moment considering the matter in silence with down 
 cast eyes. 
 
 "Then she is dead ?" she said at length, and her voice 
 was almost a whisper. 
 
 "No," I answered, for a perverse spirit was upon 
 me and I was determined to see the matter through. 
 "But when I found the lady, she already belonged to 
 another man." I strove to keep my voice at the usual 
 steady pitch, but it is not unlikely it was lacking some 
 where in control, or perhaps the words themselves were 
 enough to sound a warning. Be it as it may, at the 
 hearing, she turned on me with a startled look of 
 inquiry and suspicion, and as she made up her mind 
 I saw the colour rise slowly in her cheeks. Her arm 
 slipped from about the child and she stood away from 
 me with her hands drawn down behind her into the long 
 folds of her skirt. 
 
 The blind boy perceiving that we no longer spoke to 
 him, pushed out with his elbows as an intimation of 
 desire, and I set him again upon the ground. My 
 heart seemed in my throat, and under my calm I was 
 cursing my stupidity in risking the good that had
 
 120 The Way of the North 
 
 already come to me on the perilous chance of achieving 
 something more. But Peter Nicolaievitch s philosophy 
 stuck in my head and I knew for a certainty that I 
 should not be happy till I had found out really if Anna 
 Gregorovna cared. She tried to keep her eyes on mine 
 and there was a sudden new reserve in them that set 
 me distinctly at a distance. 
 
 For the long run it is better to fight a thing out 
 decisively and settle it once for all. So I steeled my 
 self against the foolishness of softness and waited in 
 silence what she would do. Only, I looked back so 
 steadfastly into her eyes that in spite of her she had to 
 let them down. She spoke again as soon as her com 
 posure gave her warrant. 
 
 "You were right in not telling her," she said as if 
 there had been no pause, "for in that case the telling 
 was something she ought not to hear." 
 
 For some reason, the reply came as a disappoint 
 ment. What I had hoped for I do not know, but it 
 was clearly not the thing that she had said. The 
 spirit of retaliation began to stir wickedly within me and 
 urged me on to speech. 
 
 "So long as I ask nothing in return," I said defiantly, 
 "even if I had told her, there would have been no 
 wrong." She shook her head involuntarily in negation. 
 
 "For you, perhaps," she said, "but not for her." 
 
 "No, for her too," I persisted doggedly. "A man s 
 love is not a thing that brands a woman because she 
 cannot take it up." Anna Gregorovna s face softened 
 and took on a look of tremulous appeal. She made a 
 sudden little movement forward and caught me with 
 both hands about the arm. 
 
 "Do not talk to me like that, Fedor Kirilovitch,"
 
 The Way of the North 121 
 
 she said impetuously, the words falling over themselves 
 in the hurry of her speech. "You must not talk to 
 me like that. It disturbs me to hear it and makes me 
 unhappy, and I know you would not want to do that." 
 She shook my arm as she spoke to emphasise the appeal, 
 and her whole figure stirred with the vehemence of her 
 distress. 
 
 "The worst is done," I said gently. "You know the 
 truth now, and there is nothing more to say." 
 
 " But why, when you ought not, did you say it at all ?" 
 she persisted, still shaking my arm. I put my hand 
 on hers and held them still. 
 
 "To be honest," I said simply, "I had no thought 
 of doing it when we began to talk, and I am not at all 
 sure I knew the thing myself until to-day. Of a cer 
 tainty you will hold me guiltless of any wish to give 
 you pain, and as there is nothing sought from you as 
 payment in return, it is not clear how the telling should 
 disturb your peace." She shrugged her shoulders 
 with a gesture of impatience. 
 
 "But I shall have to know it all my life," she said 
 resentfully, and bent down her head so I could not see 
 her face. 
 
 It pleased me that she should take the matter in this 
 way. Though she was plainly moved by my confession 
 and set upon her guard, her dissent showed no over- 
 flavour of distaste nor was she wroth with me beyond 
 appeasement for so having spoken. 
 
 "Is it so shameful a thing that I should care?" I 
 said a little bitterly. "Rather, after what we have 
 been through together, to me it would seem a miracle 
 if I did not." She did not answer and her head went 
 farther down.
 
 122 The Way of the North 
 
 "Surely," I insisted, "you can tell me what you 
 think." She raised her head but kept her face turned 
 from me and looked around as if in question. 
 
 "Where is Paul?" she said with a show of anxiety. 
 "By himself, I am afraid he will come to harm." 
 
 "Tell me," I demanded, "do you really care?" 
 She made no answer and went on as if she had not 
 heard. 
 
 "I do not see him anywhere," she said with earnest 
 ness, and moved as if to let me go. 
 
 "No," I said resolutely, holding her hands still fast 
 upon my arm. "One way or the other, I will have an 
 answer before I go." She looked up for an instant 
 directly into my eyes and as quickly looked down 
 again. 
 
 "How can I tell?" she said with a nervous little 
 laugh. "I am not angry if that is what you mean; 
 and if there is no wrong in it I like to be loved." 
 With a sudden movement she drew away her hands 
 and went quickly away from me along the path. I 
 called after her but she paid no heed, and I remained 
 standing where I was while she continued steadfastly 
 in pursuit of the child, and in her searching never 
 once looked back.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE way along which Anna Gregorovna went passed 
 by the angle of the stockade and dropped sharply down 
 ward toward the sea. As I accomplished the turn, I 
 saw her half-way down the slope and beyond her the 
 blind boy safely in the convoy of Marfa Alexandrovna 
 and Joassaf Petrovitch, the pope. I quickened my 
 steps and reached them almost as Anna Gregorovna 
 joined the group. No element of unusualness seemed 
 to attach with them to the fact that the blind boy had 
 escaped from our control, and neither Anna Gregorovna 
 nor myself felt it needful to bring the matter to their 
 notice. 
 
 Joassaf Petrovitch carried a small basket and was 
 evidently in attendance on the girl. They greeted 
 us as we came up and we went together along the road. 
 In the open sunlight anyone would have noticed the 
 ten days change that had come to Marfa Alexandrovna, 
 both in carriage and in looks. When I first saw her 
 on the sands her most marked characteristics were 
 her quiet dignity and her air of being perfectly at peace 
 with her surroundings and herself. Now, her figure 
 was lacking in erectness, she was thinner and there 
 was a pathetic hollowness about the eyes that told of 
 a spirit ill at ease. But she held herself to seem 
 alert in voice and animation, and laughed and 
 talked as if to hide the fact that there was trouble 
 for her in the world. 
 
 123
 
 124 The Way of the North 
 
 "Where is your steward, Fedor Kirilovitch," she 
 asked with a smile, "that you have to come yourself 
 for the distribution of the fish?" 
 
 "It is a larger fish than these that I am after, Marfa 
 Alexandrovna," I answered. "Marya Andreievna has 
 honoured me by at last taking my advice concerning 
 Potap Burikof, who is suddenly more ill, and I am on 
 my way to visit him." 
 
 "Is he then really sick?" she said soberly. "I had 
 not heard of it." 
 
 "The affliction is sudden and only came this morn 
 ing. His son, who went out with the others some weeks 
 back, was caught in a drift when the ice went out, and 
 was crushed. The news was brought in this morning, 
 and the shock has prostrated both the old man and 
 his wife." 
 
 "The poor creatures!" she said compassionately. 
 "If the matter will wait till I have chosen my fish, I 
 will go with you." 
 
 "It will wait, and I shall be glad if you will go. 
 The boy of course is past healing, and the father s 
 case is one that calls not so much for surgery as for 
 sympathy and cheer." She turned to the priest and 
 beckoned to him to be more quick. 
 
 "Come, Joassaf Petrovitch," she said. "Let us 
 get through this business as quickly as we may." The 
 priest had fallen into the usual reverie that comes to 
 him when still. She watched him with amusement as 
 he roused himself to do her bidding. 
 
 "Peter Nicolaievitch is away with the men at the 
 river," she whispered mischievously, "so I have 
 impressed Joassaf Petrovitch to carry my hamper and 
 act as porter for the house." The priest s face beamed,
 
 The Way of the North 125 
 
 and he ambled in our rear with an air of perfect satis 
 faction. 
 
 "He does not seem greatly in need of sympathy," I 
 ventured. "I should be happy if you made him so 
 contented that he would not wish to go away." 
 
 "It is a strange thing," the girl said thoughtfully, 
 "but he seems to have no pride. My father has gone 
 further than he would with most men in urging him to 
 take the archimandrite s place." 
 
 "Perhaps the matter would have been easier for him 
 if he had been offered less. Now, he is disturbed not 
 only by the belief that he has a mission to perform 
 elsewhere, but also by the thought that he is not in 
 orders and black frocked, and has no business in the 
 place." 
 
 "Yes," she continued musingly. "It would be 
 better if he were a monk. But it is different here 
 from what it is in Russia, and if my father willed it, 
 Joassaf Petrovitch could be archimandrite in spite of 
 his white frock." She half paused and looked over 
 her shoulder at the pope with an expression of real 
 respect. 
 
 "Oh, it is a shame," she exclaimed. "He is the 
 first priest with real saintliness we have had here for 
 years." 
 
 "Be patient," I said soothingly, though I shared in 
 her vexation. "Between us we will make him so com 
 fortable and happy that he will surely bend to our 
 desire." 
 
 We had reached the lower level and came to where 
 the tables were set out. Those for the whites were 
 farther up and held the larger and finer fish. Near 
 the water the spreads became mere boards on sticks to
 
 i 2 6 The Way of the North 
 
 hold the portion the bounty of the Company dealt out 
 to its Indian wards. The stewards of all the great 
 houses were there and the Indians had already arranged 
 themselves in a long double line. By custom, the distri 
 bution waited on the serving of the commandant s house, 
 and at our approach a murmur of satisfaction went up 
 from the crowd. Marfa Alexandrovna went directly to 
 the highest table and spoke to the man in charge. 
 
 "You are late to-day with the giving, Mikail. It is 
 already past noon." 
 
 "It was the tide, my lady," said the man deferen 
 tially, "and the wind at sunrise that blew the boats far 
 out. It is only within the hour that they were able to 
 beat in." He straightened the fish upon the table 
 with a conscious air of pride. "They are before you," 
 he continued, "if you will be pleased to choose." The 
 girl looked them over critically and with evident 
 pleasure in the work. 
 
 "My father was especially pleased with the new sort 
 you sent us yesterday," she said without lifting her 
 eyes from the task. "I told him particularly of the 
 trouble you took in the selection." 
 
 The gratified official bowed with a pleased humility, 
 but at the same time his manner plainly carried the 
 impression that the praise received had been no other 
 than his due. He dived excitedly into a basket under 
 the table and emerged with a great fish half as long as 
 himself. 
 
 "Another surprise for you, Marfa Alexandrovna," 
 he said triumphantly as he laid it on the slab. The 
 girl gave a little, astonished cry. 
 
 "A sturgeon!" she said delightedly. "Where did 
 you get it so early in the year ? "
 
 The Way of the North 127 
 
 "It was taken this morning in the river where they 
 were mending the traps. Peter Nicolaievitch had it 
 sent at once." 
 
 "It was thoughtful of him," said the Creole, "and 
 Alexander Andreievitch will be pleased. Send it to 
 the house, and when you yourself return I will see to it 
 that they set out for you a proper glass." The man 
 bowed thankfully. 
 
 "I shall find the green wine good for the pledging 
 of your health," he said, and laid by the fish. 
 
 Marfa Alexandrovna chose from the table the further 
 provender she needed and turned to receive her basket 
 from the pope. But in the interval he had wandered 
 quite away and I saw him standing at a table at a 
 distance where the natives were supplied. 
 
 "He is still true to his call," I said with some amuse 
 ment. "He has left you to go to the people of his 
 choice." 
 
 The distance was too great for easy hail, and for that 
 matter there was so great a noise of talking in the 
 place that a call stood no fair chance of being heard. 
 So I made my way to where the pope stood, carrying 
 my message myself as the quickest means of getting 
 speech with him. 
 
 As I came to him I saw that it was not idle interest 
 alone that held him to the spot. He stood by the side 
 of the dispenser of fish and was watching with absorbed 
 interest the process of distribution. There was a well- 
 meant effort at equality in the giving out, in that the 
 fish was cut and thrown into a rude scale for weighing, 
 the law of the Company giving to each beneficiary an 
 equal amount. 
 
 But difficulty had come in the division, and a crowd
 
 i 2 8 The Way of the North 
 
 of excited natives were gathered around the officer in 
 charge. Immediately in front of him was a man whose 
 arms and body moved in fierce gesticulation and 
 whose voice was raised above the common din in 
 continuous and high-pitched cries. In each hand he 
 held up portions of the fish that had been assigned him 
 and waved them wildly in the butcher s face. 
 
 "What is the matter here?" I demanded, as I took 
 the pope lightly by the arm. He looked around at 
 me, but without giving up his place. 
 
 "The man has not been treated fairly," he said with 
 a calm air of judgment. "He has not received that 
 which was his right." The fish butcher heard and 
 turned upon him with a sneer. 
 
 "What do you know about it ?" he said with an ugly 
 show of teeth. "The man has his full weight like the 
 rest." The pope s face flushed, but he answered 
 without haste. 
 
 "Yes, the count is full, but only half of it is fit for 
 food. You have given him two heads." The native 
 must have understood some Russian, for at the mention 
 he renewed his clamour and lifted up again his fish. 
 The piece in one hand was firm flesh of back and 
 sides, but had the head attached. That in the other 
 hand was but a head from which hung down the useless 
 entrails as they had been dragged out from the fish. 
 For all his noise, the butcher paid no more attention to 
 the man than if he had been a fly. What apology he 
 vouchsafed was directed wholly to the pope. 
 
 "Some one has to take the heads," he said with a 
 deprecatory shrug. 
 
 "Yes," returned the pope, "but if you had not cut 
 for the young woman who came before him a piece
 
 The Way of the North 129 
 
 entirely without waste, he would not have had to take 
 two." The butcher shrugged his shoulders again and 
 made to pass the thing off as a joke. 
 
 "Oh, the man is old," he said with a grin. "He 
 does not need so much to keep him fat as the girl does. 
 And besides, if he is not satisfied, and there is any left, 
 he can come again at the end." The pope stuck 
 bravely to his guns. 
 
 "But why," he said sharply, "should he wait until 
 the end to get that which it is his right to receive now ? " 
 The butcher s patience was exhausted, and, seizing a 
 fish from the table by the tail, he swung it around and 
 brought it with convincing force on the head of the 
 man who had complained. 
 
 "Clear out!" he shouted, "and let the others get 
 their fish." The crowd scattered and the complainant 
 forwent his grievance and skipped nimbly out of reach. 
 Emboldened by his success, the butcher next turned 
 on Joassaf Petrovitch, who, throughout, had quietly 
 held his ground. 
 
 "You, too," he bawled vindictively, "or I ll show 
 you something that is stronger than religion to make 
 men move!" He stepped out from behind his table 
 and came toward us with the evident intention of visiting 
 bodily punishment on the priest. The latter faced him 
 without show of fear. 
 
 "Strike me," he said sternly, "but in either case I 
 shall make complaint " 
 
 "Complaint!" echoed an authoritative voice behind 
 us. "Who is it says complaint?" 
 
 At the first sound, the belligerency of the butcher s 
 manner vanished to the winds. He fled back round his 
 table as quickly as he had come, and without a further
 
 130 The Way of the North 
 
 look in our direction industriously began again the 
 interrupted dissection of his fish. 
 
 I turned to see the cause of his retreat and found 
 Baranof himself immediately behind us. He stood 
 with his feet wide apart and hands forced down so 
 hard into the pockets of his jacket that his shoulders 
 were pushed up. His head was thrust far forward 
 and almost touched his breast. The corners of his lips 
 were drawn grimly down, and his half-closed eyes 
 fixed themselves searchingly on the pope as if de 
 manding answer to his question. He lurched slightly 
 now and then, and it was plain to be seen that he had 
 been drinking more than was good for his self-control. 
 
 "Meddling, eh?" he went on with a sneer. "By 
 God, one priest is as bad as the rest! Well," he 
 demanded insolently, still continuing to address him 
 self directly to the pope, "have you found a scandal fit 
 for report?" 
 
 The old man turned his serene face slowly toward 
 the questioner with no sign beyond a trace of colour to 
 show he was excited or annoyed. 
 
 "I have found no scandal, Alexander Andreievitch," 
 he said mildly. "I was simply reasoning with this 
 man because he was unjust." Baranof disengaged 
 one hand from his pocket long enough to beckon to the 
 butcher to leave his work and come. 
 
 "What is this, Yakov?" he demanded sternly. 
 "Have you changed the weights?" The man took 
 off his hat and bowed before him. Then he answered, 
 lying so glibly that no one not an observer of the facts 
 could have told his statement from the truth. 
 
 "Your highness can see for himself," he began 
 unctuously, "that to the weight of a scale the measure
 
 The Way of the North 131 
 
 is still the same. It is this new priest who would change 
 the rule and weigh out fish without head or fin." 
 
 "No," interposed the pope, "it was this man who 
 weighed more heads than one to a single man." The 
 man was not slow to catch that Baranof s irritation ran 
 to the priest, not to him. 
 
 "Your highness will understand," he said with de 
 ferential insinuation, "that what I did was wholly by 
 the established rule. It may be that in this case the 
 share was not altogether of the best; but having given 
 it, what could I do ? If I had received it back on the 
 man s complaint, every brown beast in the line would 
 have found his fault with me when it came his turn, and 
 where would discipline be then ? The priest is new," 
 he added with a magnanimous air of explanation. 
 "He does not know the need, or he would not have 
 interfered." Baranof did not speak, so I knew the plea 
 had weighed with him. He grunted ungraciously and 
 turned his suspicious eyes again slowly on the pope. 
 
 "The man is right," he said coldly. "There must 
 be no argument with a native about the lots." 
 Joassaf Petrovitch made no reply, but stood listen 
 ing with his air of placid patience and waited what 
 the commander would do next. His meekness angered 
 Baranof more than loud-mouthed protest would have 
 done. 
 
 "Speak up, man," he said with growing irritation. 
 "When you are wrong, why don t you own it honestly. 
 You were quick enough before." The pope, thus 
 goaded, courageously stood his ground. 
 
 "I was not in the wrong," he said with quiet dignity. 
 "You have misjudged the case because you do not 
 know the facts."
 
 132 The Way of the North 
 
 Baranof s hands came out of his pockets with a jerk, 
 and I thought he was about to lay violent hands upon 
 the pope, but he thought better of the matter and 
 stood working his fingers with a growing spark of anger 
 shining in his eyes. 
 
 "There it is," he said as if to himself. "I said they 
 were all alike and I thought of giving him the archi 
 mandrite s place!" Even the pope s saintliness was 
 not proof against insinuation such as this. 
 
 "At least," he retorted sharply, "you will admit 
 that I never sought the place?" Baranof waved the 
 question from him with a gesture of absolute disdain. 
 
 "Don t talk with me," he said with maudlin dignity; 
 and then again in a louder tone, "Don t talk to me, 
 I say! Yesterday you were archimandrite; but to-day 
 you could not have the place if you were the only priest 
 this side of heaven!" The pope caught at his meaning 
 as if it had been good news. 
 
 "Then I am at liberty to go away?" he demanded 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Liberty!" said Baranof. "Liberty! You are going 
 to go whether you want to or not!" The order was 
 intended as a rebuke, but to Joassaf Petrovitch it was 
 like a reprieve after sentence of death. 
 
 "When may I start?" he demanded with an excite 
 ment that was ill -suppressed. Baranof mistook his 
 eagerness for bravado or contempt. His frown 
 darkened and he shook his open hand in the other s 
 face. 
 
 "To-day, by God!" he gasped, "if it be possible 
 and by the bidarka to-morrow morning, if it is not!" 
 The pope s face was radiant with the look I had come 
 to know as inspiration, and he bent his head.
 
 The Way of the North 133 
 
 "I am well content," he said simply, "and I shall 
 surely go." He stepped backward as if to bow himself 
 away, but he was not to escape yet. Marfa Alex- 
 androvna had come in time to hear the last words 
 spoken, and touching him on the arm, she stayed him 
 where he stood. 
 
 " What is this, Joassaf Petrovitch ? " she asked eagerly. 
 "Has my father then given his consent?" The pope 
 was too happy in having gained his point to remain ill- 
 tempered with the world. He looked at Baranof and 
 at me and then back again at Marfa Alexandrovna. 
 
 "He has not only given his permission, but he insists 
 upon the matter," he said with a whimsical twinkle in 
 his eye. The girl looked from him to her father in 
 puzzled inquiry. A glance at the condition of the 
 latter sufficed for understanding, and her face flushed 
 with her embarrassment. 
 
 "I am very sorry," she said in a low voice. "Are 
 you to go alone ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It is suicide!" she exclaimed with conviction. 
 "But I will do what I can to help you. I will see that 
 you have an interpreter." The pope s eyes rilled with 
 tears. 
 
 "You are good to me," he said. "God bless you!" 
 and slipped quietly away. I was too full of the matter 
 to let him go without having my own say to him about 
 it, and hurrying, I ranged myself alongside of him as 
 he walked. 
 
 "Well, you have done it!" I said contemptuously, 
 and stopped because I could not trust myself to further 
 speech. The pope turned his face in my direction, but 
 the spell o-f his inspiration was upon him, and it was
 
 134 The Way of the North 
 
 almost as if he did not see. I do not think that he 
 heard what I said at all, for when he spoke it was 
 simply to let out the thought that had possession of his 
 mind. 
 
 "Do you hear, Fedor?" he cried exultantly. "The 
 ban is lifted and I am free to go." 
 
 "Have you no spirit?" I exclaimed, "that you let 
 this man browbeat you and send you out from the 
 settlement like a whipped dog ?" He shook his head in 
 firm conviction. 
 
 "It was more than his will," he said with certainty. 
 "He was but the instrument to work the matter out. 
 I know now more clearly than before that it is God s 
 hand that is moving me to go." The hopelessness of 
 arguing with him struck me with full force and I 
 gave up the unequal fight. But down in my heart the 
 opinibn lay and grew that it was another hand than 
 God s that pushed him on.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE house of Potap Burikof was the farthest 
 Russian habitation to the south from the stockade. 
 The walk thither from the fish-market was not short, 
 but Marfa Alexandrovna and I made the most of it 
 without the passing of a word. With both of us the 
 thought was with the pope, and my feeling, at least, 
 was not of the sort to be confined to silent wording in 
 the brain. 
 
 I saw that Marfa Alexandrovna was possessed not 
 alone by her disappointment in his going, but also by 
 a bitter sense of shame at her father s unwarranted 
 display of spleen. She was too proud to admit the 
 fact by look or word, nor did I speak of it; but the 
 knowledge was between us and kept me from setting 
 my own protest into words. The heart was heavy 
 with each of us, and it was sympathy rather than com 
 fort that went in with us through the door of the hut. 
 
 The place was a low log structure of two rooms and 
 within, though bare, was scrupulously clean. The 
 windows were curtained with some bright-coloured 
 cloth, and the brass about the ikon shone with a 
 brightness that betokened patient work. 
 
 Marfa Alexandrovna opened the door without 
 knocking, as if accustomed to the place. The floor 
 along one side of the room was raised as in the Indian 
 huts, and near the centre of the platform thus made, 
 on a mattress without covers, was an elderly woman 
 
 135
 
 136 The Way of the North 
 
 lying on her face. She was dressed all but her feet, 
 which were bare, and her head rested on her crossed 
 arms as a pillow. Marfa Alexandrovna spoke to her, 
 and, with a start, the woman swung herself up till she 
 sat on the edge of the platform, regarding us with 
 confused and questioning looks. 
 
 She was a gaunt creature, tall and narrow of chest, 
 and her eyes had the sunken dulness of expression that 
 comes from grieving that is too strong for tears. She 
 made a shy, deprecatory movement as if in explanation 
 and struggled palpably to regain her self-control. 
 
 "You will not notice," she said presently, and pulled 
 down her dress so that it would hide her feet. " I had 
 been out for mushrooms he is fond of them and 
 the grass was wet and I was tired when I came in." 
 She pointed to the table where the vegetables lay in the 
 uneven heap that had rolled from her basket, and at 
 the same time cast an uneasy glance from us to where 
 her stockings were drying on top of the copper urn. 
 Marfa Alexandrovna went over to her and sat down 
 by her side. 
 
 "Liza," she said gently, "I have just been told. 
 Is it true then that it is so bad about Ignatiy?" The 
 old woman s lips quivered, but she did not change her 
 attitude or raise her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, it is true," she said apathetically, and her 
 voice was colourless in the intensity of her feeling. 
 Marfa s arms went around her and drew her close. 
 
 "Oh, how can you bear it?" she cried impulsively. 
 The woman s body yielded stiffly to the embrace, but 
 she showed no pleasure in it and her hands remained 
 tightly clasped in her lap. 
 
 "I am used to it," she said simply. "It is just one
 
 The Way of the North 137 
 
 thing more!" The girl clung to her with strong 
 feminine sympathy. 
 
 "Oh, it is hard!" she exclaimed tremulously. The 
 woman sat as stiffly as before, looking straight ahead 
 with her fierce, dry eyes. 
 
 "Do not worry about me, panna," she said wearily. 
 "It is for him that I am afraid." Marfa Alexandrovna 
 drew back, made a motion as if to cross herself, and 
 looked at her with startled inquiry. 
 
 "For whom?" she asked. 
 
 "For Potap." 
 
 "Oh," rejoined the Creole, with a gesture of relief. 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Yonder," said the woman, nodding toward the 
 other room. "Since the news came, he has not 
 spoken, but only sits and cries." 
 
 "Take us to him," said the girl soothingly. "Fedor 
 Kirilovitch is a doctor and perhaps he can be of use." 
 The woman made no objection, though she displayed 
 no interest in the plan. Reaching behind her to the 
 wall, she drew from under the mattress a pair of knit 
 shoes into which she mechanically drew her feet, and 
 rising, she went in silence to the door of the other 
 room, leaving us to come after her or not as might seem 
 to us best. I looked inquiringly at the Creole, and she 
 nodded her head in assent. 
 
 "Come," she said softly, "we must do what we can." 
 With that, we followed after our guide, but before we 
 had passed the door she had turned back and met us 
 again. 
 
 "Wait," she said, "he is asleep," and we stopped 
 and stood looking by her into the narrow room. The 
 man we had come to see sat in a chair by the window
 
 138 The Way of the North 
 
 on the farther side. He was a giant in frame and 
 had the rare perfection of figure that is so often found 
 among the peasants of our race. His hair and beard 
 were snowy, and, although he was asleep, his face 
 and bearing had so much of dignity and benignance 
 in them that involuntarily I thought how like he was to 
 the pictures of God the Father that the painters make. 
 I looked significantly at Marfa Alexandrovna and she 
 returned the glance with one of honest admiration. 
 
 "Is he not beautiful?" she said under her breath. 
 The woman heard her and gave the first sign of interest 
 I had seen her display. 
 
 "You should have seen him when he was young," 
 she said wistfully. "He was no Jew to wait to be 
 handsome till his beard became white." Marfa 
 Alexandrovna saw her opportunity to say a comforting 
 word. 
 
 "And you have had him all these years," she said 
 softly. The woman s face relapsed again to its apathy 
 and she leaned against the wall. 
 
 "I know," she said. "He has been very good to 
 me." Then with a lingering fear that we should think 
 her unthankful for the blessings that had come, she 
 added: "It will be better when I have slept if I 
 could only sleep!" 
 
 "Has it then been so long?" I asked. 
 
 "Since the tidings came. It is two nights and a 
 day." Marfa looked at me in quick appeal. 
 
 "You can give her something, can you not?" she 
 whispered. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "if you will keep her quiet till it has 
 time to take effect." 
 
 "I will do that," she answered confidently. Then
 
 The Way of the North 139 
 
 turning to the woman she said: "Liza, Fedor Kirilo- 
 vitch is going to give you a sleeping potion so that you 
 can get your proper rest. But when he does, you must 
 lie down and let me take care of you till you go to 
 sleep." The woman vouchsafed the same passive 
 attention to these words that she had given to what 
 had gone before, and seemed ready to consent. But 
 the old care remained active in her mind, for when the 
 thing was mixed and brought to her, she shook her 
 head and pushed it steadily away. 
 
 "No, no," she said, "I must not drink it. There is 
 no one to care for Potap, and the mosquitoes are fierce 
 and will disturb him in his sleep." 
 
 "Drink it," I urged. "I will look after Potap." 
 
 "There was a native boy," she said, looking vaguely 
 here and there as if in search of him, "but I sent him to 
 the post. You will surely stay till he comes ?" 
 
 "Yes, Marfa Alexandrovna will stay with you and 
 I will not stir from your husband s side." 
 
 "Give me the cup," she said quietly, and drained 
 the potion to the dregs. Marfa Alexandrovna per 
 suaded her to lie down upon the bed and loosened her 
 clothing and covered her as if for the night; but not 
 before she had seen me go through to the other room 
 and take my station by the man who slept. 
 
 There was small interest to the mind in the task that 
 had thus come to me. The man, tired out with his 
 long bout with grief, slept quietly along, and the only 
 occupation to my hand was to wield my brush as occa 
 sion came, and between times watch the women in the 
 room outside. 
 
 Marfa Alexandrovna had settled herself on the plat 
 form by Liza Burikof s side, and was adding to the
 
 140 The Way of the North 
 
 potency of the sleep-giving draught by gently and 
 continuously stroking her head and face. The poor 
 creature could not wholly be still though she strenuously 
 tried, but tossed and tumbled restlessly from one 
 position to another and continually moaned and 
 sighed. Finally she could stand it no longer, and 
 rising up, caught the hand that was stroking her in 
 both of hers. 
 
 "Oh dearie, dearie!" she said with a sob, "what 
 shall I do ? " Marf a Alexandrovna yielded to the mood 
 and bent above her. 
 
 "Do nothing, Liza," she said soothingly. "Try to 
 bear with it and soon you will be asleep." The old 
 woman shook her head so that she threw back her hair. 
 
 "It is not that," she groaned. "If that were all, 
 it would not be so hard. But after the sleep the 
 long days and the years oh, what am I going to do?" 
 Her face set convulsively with the intensity of her 
 grief and she made as if she would have risen to her 
 feet. Marfa Alexandrovna put her hands on her 
 shoulders and gently pushed her back. 
 
 "No, Liza," she said with an air of authority, "you 
 must lie down in the bed." Without resistance, the 
 woman allowed herself to be pushed back, and Marfa 
 Alexandrovna threw her arm across her body to keep 
 her in her place. 
 
 "You must be patient, Liza," she said with her 
 grave voice. "All these years you have worked hard 
 and the working has helped you when you did not have 
 to think. There will still be work for you in the years 
 to come if you will but look for it." 
 
 "But for whom?" burst out the woman bitterly. 
 "Before, there was serving and caring for my own.
 
 The Way of the North 141 
 
 But now Potap will not eat and I cannot see to sew, 
 and Ignatiy is buried out there somewhere in the 
 moss and will never come in again by the door to give 
 me heart!" 
 
 She was silent again for a time, and I guessed from 
 her regular breathing and quiet pose that the draught 
 was beginning to have its effect. Then again she 
 suddenly opened her eyes and lay staring up into 
 Marfa Alexandrovna s face. 
 
 "I have had three men to love," she began in her 
 monotonous voice. "Two are dead and one is near 
 death, and I fear God means me to outlive them all. 
 He might have left me one!" she added plaintively. 
 She lapsed again into silence and was still so long that I 
 thought she surely must be asleep. Then in the 
 quiet she began disconnectedly to talk again. 
 
 "Three men ! " she said. "Three men ! and Ignatiy 
 was so young! Why, it seems only yesterday that he 
 was scratching my breasts with his little hands. You, 
 panna, have never had a man of your own and cannot 
 understand. It is trouble and care to live with them 
 and they are not always kind. But it is all one when 
 you love them, and the forgiving is as sweet as the rest. 
 It is the loving them that counts. Oh, panna, if it 
 ever comes to you to have one and he is bad to you, 
 forgive him everything, but do not let him go ! " 
 
 Her voice had sunk lower and lower as she went 
 on, and the words had become more indistinct and slow, 
 and this time when she stopped, nothing came to break 
 the silence, and I knew she was asleep. 
 
 After a sufficient time Marfa Alexandrovna raised 
 her arm from the woman s shoulders and quietly drew 
 away. She did not rise, but remained seated on the
 
 142 The Way of the North 
 
 edge of the low platform, staring fixedly into vacancy, 
 with her hands resting idly in her lap. I do not think 
 that she remembered me or anything about her, so 
 absorbing was her thought. She sat thus for some mo 
 ments, and I was careful not to make a noise. Then 
 her head drooped and her hands went up to her face 
 and her shoulders began to ouiver with an abandon 
 ment of sobbing. 
 
 I was ashamed thus to look at her in the nakedness 
 of her grieving, for I shrewdly guessed that it was her 
 own sorrow rather than Liza Burikof s that was find 
 ing its vent in tears. A woman has no stronger argu 
 ment for enlisting sympathy than weeping, and at the 
 first drops I felt my heart grow treacherously weak. At 
 that moment if I could have given her the lover she 
 desired, I would have thrown my scruples to the winds 
 and set myself wholesouled to do as Peter Nicolaievitch 
 wished. God knows the doing would have brought 
 small strain upon my will. To have Anna Gregorovna 
 for my own was a happiness so great I scarcely dared 
 to think it might come true. But down in my heart I 
 knew I had the wish, and recognised guiltily that if 
 I countenanced it I could not shoulder the responsi 
 bility for it off on Peter Nicolaievitch s plan, but would 
 be doing only what my own heart impelled. 
 
 The thing so entirely filled my mind and revolved so 
 variously in my thought as to how it might be best 
 brought about that I was ready to welcome anything that 
 would seem to further it ; and so it was with a feeling of 
 satisfaction as well as surprise that I saw the outer 
 door swing slowly open and Alexei Yegorovitch appear 
 behind it on the sill. 
 
 I could see by his look that the meeting was a surprise
 
 The Way of the North 143 
 
 to him, and that he had not expected to find Marfa 
 Alexandrovna there. But now that he did see her, 
 much as I knew he had wished for the meeting, some 
 instinct of delicacy held him back from intruding sud 
 denly on her in the abandon of her grief, and he waited 
 hesitatingly on the threshold while his resolution grew. 
 
 "Marfa," he said finally, and his voice was as plead 
 ing as a girl s "Marfa, may I come in ?" 
 
 At the first sound the girl sprang to her feet as if in 
 sudden fear. She looked quickly from side to side as 
 if seeking some avenue of escape, but in the end thought 
 better of it and defiantly stood her ground. She did not 
 answer him, however, but stood dumbly, with her head 
 drawn proudly up, and I saw her shoulders begin to 
 rise and fall with the deepness of her breathing. 
 
 The lieutenant gathered courage from her silence 
 and slowly ventured in. He never took his eyes from 
 her face, but came steadily across to where she stood, 
 and when he reached her, his hands went out in a sud 
 den gesture of appeal. She shrank back as if the simple 
 contact with him were defilement. 
 
 "Do not touch me," she cried with a scorn that was 
 almost horror in her voice. " Was it not plain enough 
 I did not want to see you that you must take it upon 
 you to follow me here?" The lieutenant winced as 
 if she had dealt him a body blow. His face flushed 
 and his hands dropped mechanically to his sides. 
 
 "I did not follow you, Marfa," he said humbly. 
 "I did not know that you were here. The Indian boy 
 brought word that help was needed; Peter Nicolaie- 
 vitch was away and it was my duty as next in command 
 to come." The soft answer failed of its proverbial 
 effect, for Marfa Alexandrovna remained stubbornly
 
 144 The Way of the North 
 
 in the same attitude without replying and turned 
 away her face. The lieutenant kept his distance ami 
 tried to wait patiently what she would do. In the end 
 his eagerness mastered him and he essayed the thing 
 again. 
 
 " Will you not speak to me, Marfa ? " he ventured, and 
 it was plain to see that his whole heart hung upon his 
 words. The girl steadied herself with an effort and 
 made shift to reply. 
 
 " What is the use ? " she said without looking up. " It 
 is all over, Alexei. There is nothing now to say." 
 
 "At least," he said, "there is the use that I am 
 entitled to be heard, if only that you may not think me 
 so utterly a knave." 
 
 "It makes no difference now," said the girl wearily, 
 "and, if you please, I would rather not." 
 
 "No," he insisted, "you shall listen to me. I have 
 not been playing with you all these months. I was 
 honest in it from the bottom of my heart. Cannot 
 you understand that you are dearer to me than anything 
 else on earth?" Marfa Alexandrovna gave him a hasty 
 glance and lifted a warning hand. 
 
 "It is all over, Alexei," she repeated with quiet 
 earnestness, and there was a ring of conviction in the 
 utterance that was .a death-blow to his hopes. He re 
 fused to accept it as such, however, and went doggedly 
 on: "It is true that Anna Gregorovna and I were 
 betrothed in Kargopol and there would seem to be no 
 way in honour to explain the fact. But she was only 
 a child when it occurred and I little more than such. 
 I took it with so little seriousness that in the months 
 that followed my coming here I never once stirred my 
 self to hear from her, nor did she write to me. And
 
 The Way of the North 145 
 
 then I met you. You were a woman, not a child, and 
 I learned the difference that there could be. I do not 
 believe that even you doubt that in that time I really 
 loved you; and I could not rest till I had seen you again 
 and told you that, in the same old way, I love you now." 
 The girl s face relaxed nothing of its hardness and she 
 looked at him with involuntary scorn. 
 
 "And so," she said, "you are going to marry Anna 
 Gregorovna?" Alexei Yegorovitch caught his breath 
 with what was palpably a sob. 
 
 "Oh, how can you?" he said brokenly. Then 
 gathering himself with a dignity that sat well upon 
 him, he went on: "You might have known that it 
 was a matter of honour with me, not of heart. She 
 believed in me and made the journey friendless and 
 alone to come to me. You yourself would not have me 
 do less." 
 
 The girl did not answer, but he must have seen some 
 sign of relenting in her that was not vouchsafed to me, 
 for with a sudden movement he was at her side and 
 I saw that he had her by the hand. 
 
 "Marfa," he pleaded, "you did love me if you do 
 not now. Why will you make it harder for me by 
 thinking so badly of me because I am trying to do what 
 is right?" She was still silent and kept her face from 
 him, but she did not withdraw her hand. 
 
 "Will you forgive me, Marfa?" he asked again. 
 The unwonted talking had its effect on Liza Burikof and 
 she stirred uneasily in her sleep. Marfa Alexandrovna 
 gently withdrew her hand from the grasp of the lieu 
 tenant and went on tiptoe to her side. She cautiously 
 patted the covers here and there and arranged them 
 carefully about the woman s face, and with the return
 
 146 The Way of the North 
 
 of silence she relapsed again to perfect rest. But 
 this accomplished, the Creole did not return to where 
 she had been before but remained bent above the bed, 
 nervously fingering the clothes and stirring herself 
 busily with a pretence of occupation. 
 
 Alexei Yegorovitch stood and waited, gazing silently 
 at the floor. He looked up once or twice to see if she 
 were coming; and finally, noting that the woman had 
 again become quiet, went softly across to where Marfa 
 Alexandrovna stood. She was still busy with her pre 
 tended labour, and as he came behind her his arm 
 went caressingly around her shoulders and his head 
 bent till it was almost touching hers. 
 
 "O Marfa," he ejaculated softly, and for the first 
 time there was a ring of hope in his voice. "You 
 will forgive me, will you not ? " Even yet she did not 
 respond to his persuasion but remained with her face 
 hidden from him as before; only, her figure stiffened 
 at his touch and her hands stopped picking at the cover 
 and lay limply on the bed. 
 
 It was only for a moment and I can but guess at the 
 bitterness of the struggle that went on in her mind. 
 But a man s arm is a strong persuader when there 
 is hunger at the heart, and no doubt that the words that 
 Liza Burikof had spoken lingered pregnant in her 
 thought. Be that as it may, the indecision ended, she 
 lifted up a face that was flushed and wet with tears. 
 
 "How can I help it?" she said as if to herself, and 
 let him turn her toward him till her eyes looked into his 
 and she stood with her breast against his breast. 
 
 He was more shaken in his victory than he had been 
 in defeat and clung to her less like a lover than a child. 
 She accepted his weakness as a natural thing and
 
 The Way of the North 147 
 
 soothed him as simply as a mother might. How far 
 he would have pushed his vantage I shall never know; 
 for while they stood, there came the sound of voices 
 and a cautious rapping at the door. 
 
 The couple sprang apart and Marfa Alexandrovna 
 sought with hurried ringers to repair the disorder of her 
 hair. She sat down on the platform by Liza Burikof 
 and motioned to Alexei Yegorovitch to answer to the 
 knock. He obeyed and gave admittance to the Indian 
 boy and two women of the post. I saw there was no 
 further need for me and resolved to slip away without 
 recalling my presence to the girl. Hastily gathering 
 my belongings, I switched the insects for the last time 
 from the face of Potap Burikof, and unlatching the 
 rear door, slipped quietly outside.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IT was pleasant in the open after the closeness of 
 the little room. The heat of afternoon was beginning 
 to abate, and the sun was so low that the shadows lay 
 like long fingers pointing to the hills. I took off my 
 hat and carried it in my hand for coolness, and out of 
 the quietude of the life around me sought to resolve 
 my mind s disorder into peace. The experience of the 
 day had tired me. There is a strain in sympathy that 
 wears on one like work, and no man s strength is proof 
 against it. 
 
 And then, too, Peter Nicolaievitch s plan hung 
 always like a weight around my neck and I could 
 think of no one with whom I could take counsel in 
 deciding on the part which I should take in it. The 
 thing went as an undercurrent continually with me 
 as I walked, and like a panorama there came up before 
 me every detail of the encounter between Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch and Marfa Alexandrovna. 
 
 But if I were to single out the thing that spoke most 
 strongly to me in those recollections and which stayed 
 most clearly in my mind, it would be the insistence of 
 Alexei Yegorovitch on the fact that his betrothal to 
 Anna Gregorovna was but a childish affair and scarcely 
 of the heart. It was a satisfaction, somehow, to have 
 it relegated to such time, especially as the explanation 
 served clearly as a justification of the fact that she had 
 fixed her choice at all on such a man. 
 
 148
 
 The Way of the North 149 
 
 I thought of other things, of course, and had them 
 on my mind, but again and again I found myself coming 
 back to this fact with growing satisfaction; and when 
 I reached the barracks and pulled myself together to 
 go in, as a last word of the day s adventure, it came 
 back to me again, and I said to myself under my breath 
 as I went up the steps: "I am glad that she was so 
 young." 
 
 Inside the barracks there was anything but peace. 
 In our own room the pope was gathering his belongings 
 for the going, and Peter Nicolaievitch lay in wait for 
 me by the outer door to bid me to a gathering at the 
 great house that night. 
 
 "It is the commander s order," he said, "and all the 
 post is bidden. There is a bidarshik here from Yakutat 
 or somewhere in the North, and the commander thinks 
 to astonish him with the importance of the post." He 
 was still cleaning himself after the labour of the day, 
 and as he spoke he rubbed vigorously with a cloth his 
 hair and face, and dried his ears with a brisk manipula 
 tion of the hand. 
 
 "Where is Alexei?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 "Somewhere outside," I answered vaguely, for I had 
 no thought to tell Peter Nicolaievitch the happenings 
 of the day. "I last saw him in the neighbourhood of 
 the south gate." 
 
 "I wish he were home," he said, with a solicitude 
 that was fairly parental. "It is almost night and he 
 ought not to be out after the air grows chill." He 
 returned to his ablutions and I went across to my 
 room. 
 
 The pope looked up at me absently from his packing, 
 but his mind was full of other things, and he vouch-
 
 150 The Way of the North 
 
 safed no stated form of greeting. There was yet ample 
 time for the preparation for the function of the evening, 
 and I determined to wait, since it was convenient, till 
 the things that strewed the floor were cleared away. 
 So I lighted my pipe, sat idly down upon the bed, and 
 watched the pope as he moved in and out among them. 
 
 It was a curious lot of stuff, if a full list were made. 
 Of the things for his own use, the number was noticeably 
 few. The bulk of the litter that filled the floor was 
 furniture for church service, robes for the sacrament, 
 a bell for ringing in the wilderness, and a stock of sim 
 ple remedies for the healing of the sick. 
 
 There was a heap by itself, made up of bright- 
 coloured cloths, cheap ornaments, and women s stock 
 ings and shoes. I picked up one of these last and 
 turned it in my hand. It was small and well made 
 and had high and dainty red heels. 
 
 "What are you going to do with these, Joassaf," I 
 asked curiously. The old man looked up wariJy at 
 me to see if I was in earnest or in jest. There was a 
 shyness in his manner born of the uncertainty as he 
 answered: "It is a concession to the weakness of 
 womankind. I thought perhaps to win some native 
 creature with it where other argument would be in 
 vain." Peter Nicolaievitch, who had completed his 
 toilet, came into the room in time to hear both question 
 and reply. 
 
 "You do not need it, father," he broke in dryly. "In 
 this country the native women run after one so, the 
 trouble is not to get them, but to get away. Curiosity 
 is their cardinal sin, and religion or love it makes no 
 difference, they re hot for it as long as it comes with 
 the proper thrill. But by the beard of St. Basil," he
 
 The Way of the North 151 
 
 said suddenly, checking the oath with a laugh, "let 
 me see that shoe ! " He took it in his hand and turned 
 it critically from side to side. 
 
 " Did you ever see a native woman s foot ?" he asked 
 finally. The priest, with a self-conscious look, guiltily 
 shook his head. 
 
 "I thought not," said Peter Nicolaievitch with a 
 chuckle. "Why, man dear, there isn t a native in 
 America could get it on her foot. They are born with 
 bigger feet than that!" He remained looking at the 
 shoe with sentimental interest, thrusting his fingers into 
 the toe and smoothing the polished top with his open 
 palm. 
 
 "The virgin in the church where I was born had 
 shoes with red heels like that," he said reminiscently, 
 "and I remember that the first time I saw a girl with 
 them on, I thought she surely must have stepped down 
 from a frame. But later I found out that that was 
 about as far as her similarity to the holy lady went. It 
 was a girl with red shoes that started me on my journey 
 here. I kissed her in the passage without stopping to 
 look, and her father opened the door. In the trouble 
 that followed he got hurt, and I thought it was healthier 
 to corne away." He tossed the shoe back into the heap, 
 stretched himself with both arms and legs, sighed 
 deeply, and turned to me. 
 
 "It s a queer world, Fedor Kirilovitch," he said 
 soberly, "and you may see a queer side of it to-night. 
 The commander has been drinking all day with the 
 bidarshik and is as liable to murder him as to drink 
 with him, before the night is through." Then a flash 
 of recollection came to him and he moved mysteriously 
 to my side.
 
 152 The Way of the North 
 
 "I came near forgetting what I came for," he said In 
 a low voice. "Alexei is here. He has seen the lady, 
 and the matter is all right." I was startled from my 
 calm, for I had no means of knowing what had hap 
 pened after I had left Potap Burikof s house. 
 
 "Then she will marry him?" I asked excitedly. 
 Peter Nicolaievitch laughed ironically and patted me 
 soothingly on the arm. 
 
 "Oh no, man!" he said. "Give them time. But 
 she has forgiven him his sins and wiped out the past, 
 and if they are left together it cannot help but come out 
 as you wish." 
 
 I did not like the assumption that the plan was mine. 
 Yet there was satisfaction in the news and secretly I 
 knew that I was glad. I am not superstitious, but fol 
 lowing the matter back, the conviction steadily grew 
 upon me that it was a thing ordained of fate. At any 
 rate, there was an inevitableness about the movement 
 of it that was keenly suggestive of that force. 
 
 The speculation occupied me while I made my toilet 
 for the evening show, and lingered with me during the 
 protracted dinner hour. It was only when I stepped 
 from the darkness into the light and noise of Baranof s 
 well-filled rooms that I was able to shake off the domi 
 nation and hold myself at peace. 
 
 The gathering was something worth while to see in 
 that sparsely settled land. Baranof must have had 
 strong need to impress the officer from the upper post, 
 for he had gathered in well-nigh all the people of the 
 place. The women were not so many; but the men 
 were decked out in all the bravery of apparel that could 
 be mustered in the post. The women kept to the 
 upper end of the room, but near the door there were
 
 The Way of the North 153 
 
 tables set out with pipes and tobacco, and at these the 
 bolder spirits were already playing cards. The greatest 
 freedom prevailed, and the laughter and the talking 
 made a steady murmur in the place. Peter Nicolaie- 
 vitch and I came in together, and he stood beside me 
 as we looked around. 
 
 "Yonder is the commander," he said, nodding 
 toward the little room which, on the day of my first 
 interview with him, had been Baranof s private place. 
 I looked as he directed and saw that this alcove had 
 been cleared of the desk so as to give room for the 
 function it now served. Only a small table had been 
 left in the middle of the floor, and at this sat Baranof 
 and a stranger whom I had never before seen. There 
 was a row of bottles between them and they were 
 drinking from the large glasses commonly used for tea. 
 
 They were evidently well along in the orgy begun at 
 noon, and the bidarshik was leaning with his elbows 
 on the table, singing some sort of song. He held up 
 his glass and slowly beat the measure backward and 
 forward. Baranof slouched in his chair with drunken 
 gravity, and with the pompous dignity of intoxication 
 followed the rhythm with slow movements of his head. 
 
 " Did Alexei come ? " I asked irrelevantly. 
 
 "Of course," said Peter with some surprise. "You 
 will find him up there with the women, I suspect. 
 Suppose we get up nearer and see which one of his 
 chains galls him the most." We picked our way 
 slowly among the tables, Peter stopping to banter 
 nearly every one he met. Twice we were halted to 
 pledge healths in the tea the attendants continually 
 served, and it was plain to see that Peter was popular 
 with the men of the command.
 
 154 The Way of the North 
 
 "Marfa has more than her share," he whispered, as 
 we reached the end "both of the youngsters who 
 came with the bidarshik and as much of Alexei as he 
 dares to give." 
 
 The girls sat some distance apart from the others, 
 with Marya Andreievna between them to give them 
 confidence. The old lady was not troubled with 
 admirers and sedately sipped her tea. Marfa had half 
 a dozen men around her who kept her busy with their 
 questioning and talk. There was a trace of colour in 
 her cheeks and a new light in her eyes, and her spirits 
 were evidently exuberantly high. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna was more alone and sat with her 
 back to the crowded room. Alexei Yegorovitch stood 
 behind her and bent above her as he talked. I guessed 
 that he had chosen this point of vantage so that without 
 suspicion he might be out of Anna Gregorovna s line 
 of vision and yet keep always in his eye the face and 
 figure of the girl he loved. Marfa saw us from afar 
 and gave us greeting. 
 
 "Here is Peter Nicolaievitch," she cried gaily. "I 
 have my thanks to make to you for the great fish you 
 sent. They tell me that you captured it at the peril of 
 your life." A shout of approval went up from the 
 group of men immediately about her, and it was evident 
 that Peter s fishing had been the subject of delighted 
 comment with them and that the story had not lacked 
 for interest from the way in which it had been told. 
 
 Peter Nicolaievitch fell at once into the conversa 
 tion, standing in defence of his reputation with his cus 
 tomary volubility, and I passed on to where Anna 
 Gregorovna sat. As I came to Marya Andreievna 
 she bowed to me gravely, stopped drinking her tea,
 
 The Way of the North 155 
 
 and eyed me sidewise over her cup as if expecting me 
 to speak. 
 
 "I saw your patient, Burikof," I said as I went by. 
 "It has been a great shock for the old people, but I 
 think they will safely come through." She considered 
 the information for a moment with arrested head. 
 
 "Grief does kill sometimes," she said, almost as if 
 she had hopes, and began again sipping her tea. 
 
 Up to this time I had not thought of myself as 
 delaying or avoiding a meeting with Anna Gregorovna, 
 but now that I was near her I felt a hesitancy in 
 bringing it about. It was the first time I had seen 
 her since our interview of the afternoon, and I feared 
 lest with the meeting should come embarrassment. 
 There was no avoiding the essay, however, and I trust 
 I went up to her without disclosing what was in my 
 mind. She greeted me gravely and without constraint, 
 but for an instant she looked up with an inquiry in her 
 eyes that was almost an appeal. Her effort was to 
 meet me with the same candour as before, but behind 
 the assumption I could not but feel a difference in kind. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Fedor Kirilovitch," she said, 
 giving me her hand. "Alexei has been doing his best 
 but he is not well yet, and his wits seem to be the last 
 thing to mend." She looked up laughingly at him as 
 she spoke, and he glanced at me in pretended depreca 
 tion. 
 
 "Anna Gregorovna is a witch," he answered with an 
 attempt at lightness, "and gifted to read the mind. 
 Isn t it uncanny to think that she knows all the time 
 what you are thinking inside ? " 
 
 "I have seen Anna Gregorovna at the weaving of 
 her spells," I answered with what grace I could, "and
 
 156 The Way of the North 
 
 I have full respect for her power. But I would rath; r 
 her esteem for me came from what she reads and 
 thinks for herself than from what my mouth is able to 
 say." The girl blushed at the answer and Alexei 
 softly clapped his hands. 
 
 "Good!" he said, "Good! I did not think you had 
 it in you. I can trust her with you for a time. You 
 are sure you will not be bored?" he added, bending to 
 Anna Gregorovna with a pretence of anxiety in his 
 voice. She gave him a little push of impatience. 
 
 "Go," she said. "We shall not even miss you 
 while you are away." He laughed and drifted in the 
 direction of the group that clustered around Marfa 
 Alexandrovna. I drew up a chair and beckoned to a 
 servant to bring me a glass of tea. Anna Gregorovna s 
 eyes still followed the lieutenant, though her attention 
 was ostensibly given to me. 
 
 "What a dear fellow he is," she said almost wistfully. 
 "It is so good to see him on his feet again." I too was 
 watching Alexei Yegorovitch and made no answer to her 
 remark, for just as he reached Marfa Alexandrovna the 
 Creole s attention was attracted by something outside 
 of her immediate surroundings and she did not see or 
 speak to him at all. Her pose was one of uneasy 
 interest. Bolt upright, with her head erect and still, 
 she was gazing intently at what was going on beyond 
 her in the room. Her lips were slightly parted and un 
 consciously, as she looked, she moistened the upper one 
 with her tongue. 
 
 I followed the direction of her eyes and saw that 
 Baranof and the bidarshik had tired of their seclusion 
 and had come out into the room. They were arm in 
 arm and, in the free hand, each carried a bottle of wine.
 
 The Way of the North 157 
 
 They were lurching slowly down the apartment, 
 flourishing their bottles and inviting everybody to drink 
 of the liquor they contained. 
 
 The crowd rose to them with a shout and gathered 
 round them, lifting up the glasses in which they had 
 been drinking tea. The whole place was affected and 
 for a moment, at our end of the hall, we were left prac 
 tically alone. When I looked back, Marfa Alexan- 
 drovna had risen to her feet. 
 
 "I think I shall go in," she said, with some embarrass 
 ment, and looked around to where the other members 
 of her household sat. Marya Andreievna rose promptly 
 from her place and came to where Marfa Alexandrovna 
 stood, but Anna Gregorovna was intent upon the scene 
 before her and did not seem to hear. 
 
 I thought I understood the Creole s sudden move 
 in that it was not in reason that a woman could stand by 
 unashamed while her father thus played the fool, and 
 further, there was that in her face which stirred me with 
 an undefined sense of fear. She waited a moment and 
 then spoke again: 
 
 "Anna Gregorovna, will you not come with us? 
 We are going up." The girl laughed reassuringly and 
 shook her head. 
 
 "Oh no," she said, "not now. It is all new to me 
 and I would rather stay. I will come in a little while." 
 Marfa Alexandrovna was so seriously disturbed that 
 I went across to where she stood. 
 
 "Is it really best that she should go?" I asked under 
 my breath. She stood silent a moment with compressed 
 lips; she was her father s daughter, and it came hard 
 to her pride to criticise him even for the accomplish 
 ment of this good.
 
 158 The Way of the North 
 
 " It may be," she said slowly, and kept her eyes from 
 my face. I went again to Anna Gregorovna s side. 
 
 "You had better go," I said quietly. "It would not 
 be pleasant after they are gone." Some perverse 
 spirit seemed to be possessing her and would not let 
 her stir. 
 
 "There are other women here," she said coolly. 
 "Why should I not stay?" The uneasiness grew 
 within me and for the moment I lost my head. 
 
 "You must go," I said with a foolish assumption of 
 authority. "It is not safe for you to stay." She 
 laughed softly and looked up at me with half-closed 
 eyes. 
 
 "Perhaps," she said defiantly, "but you forget that 
 I have Alexei here to-night and so am not afraid." 
 The slur that lurked in her rebuke was needless and I 
 was keenly stung by its unkindness. She herself was 
 a little frightened after she had said it and looked with 
 guilty eyes to see how I took it. 
 
 "Very well," I said with as much dignity as I could 
 muster. "I have no more to say," and I dropped 
 back so as to leave her to herself. But I stayed near 
 enough at hand to have an eye upon her and to be of 
 ready help to her in case there should be need. Marfa 
 Alexandrovna and her aunt had seized their opportunity 
 and disappeared, and Alexei Yegorovitch came back to 
 Anna s side. 
 
 The uproar in the room grew louder, for as soon as the 
 bottles which the two dispensers held grew empty, they 
 called for more and went on pouring out the wine. So 
 long as they stayed in that portion of the hall there 
 was no pressing danger. There was noise and singing 
 and a shadow of coarse talk, but the thing was a drink-
 
 The Way of the North 159 
 
 ing bout pure and simple and no worse than I had 
 witnessed many times before. 
 
 But novelty even in such matters is the sting that 
 gives the zest, and as Baranof and his companion 
 skirted round the fringes of the revelers near the centre 
 of the hall, his eyes wandered in our direction and he 
 grasped joyously the new idea. 
 
 "The women !" he said, looking reproachfully at the 
 bidarshik, "they have had nothing yet !" He dropped 
 his companion s arm and catching a glass from the 
 table reeled unsteadily to where the nearest woman 
 stood. 
 
 She was palpably afraid of him and shrank back; 
 but the awe in which she held him as commander of 
 the post prevented her from carrying out her evident 
 wish to run away. He bowed to her with exaggerated 
 politeness, poured from the bottle into the glass, and 
 tendered her the wine. She took it with some hesitation 
 and raised it to her lips. When it was drunk, she 
 handed back the glass and made a courtesy of thanks. 
 But she was not to escape so easily, for Baranof caught 
 her boldly around the waist and kissed her audibly on 
 either cheek. Then turning to the bidarshik, as if 
 it had been a show, he signified that the chance was his 
 as well. 
 
 The man was not slow in using his advantage and 
 added an extra touch to his salute by kissing the woman 
 fairly on the mouth. She struggled and pushed back 
 from him, her face as red as the kerchief around her 
 neck, and faring free, made haste to hide herself among 
 the crowd. By this time Baranof had found another 
 victim, and was carrying out his programme as before. 
 Those around fell into the spirit of the thing and
 
 The Way of the North 
 
 followed on, applauding freely each new conquest 
 added to his list. 
 
 Some of the women took it philosophically and sub 
 mitted in patient silence to the rough embrace, but 
 others screamed and fought as their strength permitted ; 
 and one indignant girl, to the joy of the lookers-on, 
 gave the bidarshik so resounding a slap upon the face 
 that he blinked and gasped and was well-nigh sobered 
 for the time. The men to whom the women belonged 
 looked on in surly silence, but so strong was the fear 
 of the commander when he was in his cups that no 
 one of them dared to interfere, but looked on helplessly 
 in bitterness and shame at the insults to their women- 
 kind. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna at the first gazed on the scene with 
 keen enjoyment, but as the fooling became more 
 boisterous she became more grave and when the two 
 old reprobates began their service to her sex I saw her 
 look uneasily around and finally speak to Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch with an evident mind to go. But before she 
 reached decision, her opportunity had passed. The 
 only way by which escape was possible lay through the 
 door well down the other side, and the roistering crowd 
 already covered it. 
 
 Alexei Yegorovitch got her to her feet, and screening 
 her as much as might be, edged quietly around the 
 crowd, hoping to shun notice in the mad confusion and 
 so win safety into haven unaddressed. I joined 
 them as they passed and stationed myself on the girl s 
 other side. She did not speak, but gave me a quick 
 look of repentant gratitude as I came. 
 
 For a time the plan seemed likely of success, for we 
 made in safety the great part of the way; but just as
 
 The Way of the North 161 
 
 I made sure, there was a swift upheaval in the crowd, it 
 opened suddenly in our direction and a woman, stronger 
 or more obdurate than the rest, broke from Baranof s 
 embrace and fled wildly by us through the open door. 
 
 Balked of his prey, Baranof stood in surly silence 
 looking keenly here and there in search of some other 
 victim on whom to lay his hand. He was stooped and 
 panting with the stress of his exertions, and his eyes 
 shone with the fire of excitement that was like the 
 look of the insane. He knew us on the instant, and 
 with the cunning of the drunkard fathomed at once 
 the thing we were about. 
 
 " Not yet ! " he said, stepping quickly between us 
 and the door. " Oh no, not yet ! " and began pouring 
 out the liquor from his bottle to the glass. Anna 
 Gregorovna watched him as if fascinated but said not 
 a word. Only, when the glass was filled and the com 
 mander, raising it, paused to look over its brim at her 
 with his sneering smile, she began to tremble violently, 
 and I saw her hand reach slowly out behind her and 
 grope about for mine. I caught it firmly and my heart 
 gave a great leap up, for I recognised that consciously 
 or unconsciously it was to me, and not to Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch, that she had turned in her need. 
 
 The lieutenant s mind worked faster than mine and 
 he stepped briskly forward between the commander 
 and the girl. 
 
 "Give it to me, Alexander Andreievitch," he cried 
 with his infectious laugh. "I have not had a drop from 
 you to-night." Baranof looked at him suspiciously for 
 a moment, the/i with drunken gravity waved him 
 ponderously away. 
 
 "Ladies first," he said sternly. "Stand aside!"
 
 1 62 The Way of the North 
 
 The lieutenant persisted in his interference and tried 
 to take the cup, and Baranof lost at once his self-control. 
 
 "Stand aside!" he thundered in his big voice. "Am 
 I not to be master even in my own house ? " He made 
 a sweeping swing with the arm that held the bottle and 
 Alexei Yegorovitch went staggering backward into the 
 crowd. The men in it were silent and had gathered 
 round us to see what would come next. The wine in 
 the glass was mostly spilled, but there was enough left 
 for the commander s purpose in carrying out his will. 
 He came close to Anna Gregorovna with the same evil 
 smile. 
 
 "Panna," he said, with exaggerated deference, "you 
 will drink to mine and the Company s health?" She 
 looked back at me inquiringly and clung tighter to my 
 hand. 
 
 "Drink it," I whispered, "it is the easiest way." 
 She took the glass mechanically, made formal thanks 
 and, swallowing with difficulty, drank the small measure 
 of liquid it contained. I could see the purpose growing 
 in Baranof to take her as he had taken the others in 
 his arms, so, as she finished, I leaned forward and laid 
 my hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Do not touch her," I said in a low voice, but dis 
 tinctly enough for him to hear. "I give you fair 
 warning now." He glared at me in speechless amaze 
 ment, and the light in his eyes blazed brighter as his 
 irritation grew. 
 
 "How long since you became commander here?" 
 he demanded with a sneer. "I will have no distinc 
 tions between people; and this woman shall be treated 
 like the rest. And mark you," he added, shaking his 
 finger at me to give malevolent emphasis to his words,
 
 The Way of the North 163 
 
 "if you so much as raise a finger to prevent it, I ll 
 have you whipped so sure as I have you in my hand!" 
 He made a quick movement forward and would have 
 caught Anna Gregorovna by the waist, but she was 
 alert and avoided him by a sudden change of place, and 
 before he could recover himself I struck him fairly 
 between the eyes and he went sprawling backward 
 on the floor. 
 
 There was a gasp of astonishment from the crowd 
 that was like the deep intaking of a breath, and there 
 was not a face that did not look at me with more or 
 less of fear. Baranof lay for a second as if stunned, 
 then he turned himself slowly over and got clumsily to 
 his feet. I improved the interval to speak to Alexei 
 Yegorovitch. 
 
 " Get her away," I said hurriedly. " I will stay and 
 see the matter out." Anna Gregorovna looked at me 
 piteously and seemed inclined to wait, but the lieu 
 tenant gave her no time to think, and before the com 
 mander regained his feet I saw them pass to safety 
 through the door. 
 
 I turned again to Alexander Andreievitch, expecting 
 nothing but that he would come at me with a rush, but 
 the blow had sobered him to a point this side discretion 
 and he kept outside the limit of my arm. 
 
 "Peter Nicolaievitch," he called with the promptness 
 of a military command, "detail a file of men to take this 
 man in charge. I said if he interfered he should be 
 whipped, and I will be as good as my word. See that 
 he has ten lashes at daylight to-morrow morning and 
 afterward report to me." There was an ugly swelling 
 growing on his forehead where the blow had come and 
 he felt of it tenderly as he spoke. When he was done,
 
 1 64 The Way of the North 
 
 he turned on his heel, and walking unsteadily passed 
 from sight into the inner room. Peter Nicolaievitcb 
 remained behind, and his face was a study as he came 
 up to me. 
 
 "What shall I do?" he asked helplessly, and his 
 eyes were fairly full of tears. 
 
 "It is not your fault," I said comfortingly. "You 
 will need no guard. I will go with you without the use 
 of force." 
 
 I linked my arm in his and started with him down 
 the hall. The crowd stood back respectfully as we 
 passed and made no comment, even of a word. They 
 were cowed by the show of authority and the swiftness 
 with which the punishment had come ; but I myself was 
 not so much cast down, for I still felt in mine the touch 
 of Anna Gregorovna s hand and knew that, whatever 
 came to me, she would understand.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THEY say that when men come to die it is the 
 onlookers, not the passing souls, that fear and suffer 
 pangs. Yet, by the same measure, it goes current that 
 when a man stops short of death, but comes to open 
 shame, he himself is unsparing in self-accusation, while 
 that his friends are strong to minimise the wrong and 
 pass the matter by. But this to me is not a sound 
 philosophy. Not all men die with comfort in their 
 souls, and here, in my own case, where shame had 
 surely come, I do not think I found myself so grieved 
 or fearful as did the friends and intimates around me. 
 
 There was not much said on either side, and I am 
 sure I made no open lamentation. But there was a 
 depression in the air of them that fixed the status of the 
 thing at serious gravity, and listening to their talk I 
 began to feel much as I imagine a dead man must 
 who is being dressed and straightened by his friends 
 against his burial. 
 
 Peter Nicolaievitch walked up and down the room 
 in anxious self-communion, and when a particular 
 phase of recollection proved too much for him, he 
 swore beneath his breath. The pope said not a word, 
 but sat beside me with his hand on mine and listened to 
 our council with an air of such distress that, had I not 
 already felt my own misfortune, his look would quite 
 have made me sorry for myself. 
 
 There had been no talk of confinement, nor any show 
 
 165
 
 1 66 The Way of the North 
 
 of force. When Peter Nicolaievitch and I left the 
 great house, we had taken our way to the barracks as 
 naturally as if it had been a simple going home. We 
 both knew there could be no full escape for a prisoner 
 in this land, for, granted he fared free, there was no 
 place except through journey on the sea where he could 
 find a seasonable and proper sanctuary. Beyond the 
 settlement all was wilderness and desolation, and a 
 man would need before him the knowledge of a keener 
 punishment than mine to make him choose the venture 
 as a fair alternative. 
 
 So we sat in my room in the accustomed way and 
 I at least harboured a sense of growing anger with the 
 needless foolishness of it all. We were scarcely in the 
 house when Alexei Yegorovitch came. As quickly as 
 might be, he had escorted Anna Gregorovna to a place 
 of safety and hastened blithely back to lend a hand at 
 the final resolving of the fray; but the hall was cleared 
 and Baranof was gone, and only stopping to learn the 
 outcome of the clash, he had followed us straightway 
 home. He was still keyed to the enthusiasm of the fight 
 he had not had, and his talk was caustic and belligerent. 
 
 "It was fine!" he said joyously, as he wrung me by 
 the hand. "I should have struck him myself if you 
 had not been so quick. And the lump on his face, 
 Peter! Did you see the lump?" Peter Nicolaievitch 
 growled an inarticulate assent that took some time to 
 settle into words. 
 
 "But the salve for it, man," he said ruefully. "Who 
 is to pay for the salve to bring it down ? " Alexei 
 Yegorovitch refused to be depressed. 
 
 "Nonsense!" he said with a laugh. "It is only till 
 to-morrow. Alexander Andreievitcb when sober never
 
 The Way of the North 167 
 
 holds against a man the thing done to him while 
 drunk." 
 
 " But the time set, man," Peter Nicolaievitch answered 
 with a groan. "It is the time!" 
 
 "What is the time?" 
 
 "Daybreak to-morrow morning." The lieutenant s 
 face grew suddenly grave and he whistled softly to 
 himself. 
 
 "Is there no one who would dare to wake him up?" 
 he asked thoughtfully,, Peter Nicolaievitch shook his 
 head. 
 
 "You know there is not," he said drily, "and if there 
 were, his temper would be worse than it is to-night." 
 Alexei Yegorovitch was silent for a space, preoccupied 
 with thought. When he spoke it was with the air of 
 having settled the matter to his satisfaction. 
 
 "Why not omit the whole thing?" he suggested 
 cheerfully. "The old man will never rise in time to 
 find it out." Peter Nicolaievitch fairly snorted his 
 refusal of assent. 
 
 "Yes, and have Mashoff standing by his door before 
 breakfast-time to tell him of it when he awakes! Be 
 sides, it would be bad for discipline." 
 
 "But this is a special case," urged the lieutenant. 
 
 "The Company has some rights," returned Peter 
 Nicolaievitch doggedly, "and the men all saw it done." 
 He turned on me with a querulous note of irritation in 
 his voice. 
 
 "Damn you!" he said, "if you had to hit him, 
 why couldn t you wait till the bidkrshik was gone 
 back?" Again Alexei was silent in thoughtful calcu 
 lation. 
 
 "We must go at it from the other side," he said
 
 1 68 The Way of the North 
 
 finally, with an air of conviction. "Whose business 
 will it be to use the lash, Mikhail Etolin s ? " 
 
 "No, Arseni Kuznetzofs. Mikhail Etolin is away." 
 
 "A new man," said Alexei Yegorovitch musingly, 
 "but I suppose he can he reached." 
 
 "There it is again," broke out Peter Nicolaievitch 
 with his show of anger. "It was Kuznetzofs wife that 
 the little lady cast the spell upon when Fedor Kirilo- 
 vitch was with her on the ship, and the man has a 
 grudge against him for it that is dearer than his life." 
 
 "That makes no difference," said Alexei, with de 
 cision. "He will have to forswear himself for once. 
 Come with me, Peter, and we will fix the whole matter 
 up." 
 
 They went out together, leaving the pope and me 
 seated by the fire. I did not care to talk, and Joassaf 
 Petrovitch was too full of sympathy to know quite what 
 to say. So we sat in silence and found our comfort 
 in our pipes. I suppose I was not properly impressed 
 by the peril I was in. The gravity of it sat upon m6 
 lightly, simply because I had never before come afoul 
 of the law in such matters and had no standards by 
 which to gauge my fear. Besides, the blow had been 
 a just one and I had confidence in my friends. If the 
 worst came to worst though I had no certain expecta 
 tion of it I firmly made up my mind that I would take 
 my punishment like a man. 
 
 It was ten minutes at least before a word was spoken. 
 Then I saw the pope looking at me through the cloud 
 of smoke that filled the room as if he would ask me 
 something but did not clearly see his way. 
 
 " Well," I said, "what is it ? " He accepted the ques 
 tion as an invitation and spoke up with an air of relief.
 
 The Way of the North 169 
 
 "Fedor," he said shyly, "you struck the commander 
 and they say that it was a proper thing but do I know 
 why the blow was struck?" I looked at him in some 
 astonishment. 
 
 "You heard them say," I answered, "that it was to 
 prevent the commander s making free with Anna 
 Gregorovna, who came over with us on the ship." 
 He nodded his understanding, but was not yet at peace. 
 
 "Yes, but what interest had you in the matter if he 
 did?" 
 
 "I trust," I said hotly, "that I would not stand by and 
 see any woman wronged." He leaned back in his 
 chair, and setting the tips of his fingers together, looked 
 thoughtfully across them at the fire. 
 
 "I know," he said softly, "but was there no further 
 reason ? You did not strike him when the other women 
 suffered wrong." I had not thought to search the 
 matter for its philosophy and was not prepared to 
 answer out of hand, so I met his question with another 
 one and said: 
 
 " You mean, I suppose, that I care especially for the 
 girl ? " He did not change his attitude or lift his eyes. 
 
 "Y-yes," he said tentatively, still looking steadily 
 into the fire. I considered a moment before answering, 
 and he waited patiently for me to speak. 
 
 "Well," I said, with a show of frankness I did not 
 altogether feel, "what wrong is there in it if I do?" 
 The instinct of the priest made him ready instantly 
 with his reply. 
 
 "The wrong that the woman belongs already to 
 another man." 
 
 It startled me to find him turning back on me the 
 argument I had advanced to Peter Nicolaievitch as a
 
 170 The Way of the North 
 
 reason for not joining in his plan, but it also brought to 
 my lips in answer the philosophy of that individual 
 which had proved more potent with me than my own. 
 
 "It is surely no harm to think it, if it is carried to no 
 wrong. One is not blamable for what one feels." 
 
 "That is a mistake," said the old man earnestly. 
 "It is not enough to be simply pure at heart. To dis 
 regard conventions is dangerous, if nothing more." 
 
 "But she is not married, and why is it wrong, if I 
 think my chance good, to want her for myself?" The 
 pope s face flushed sensitively as if what I had said was 
 improper for him to hear. 
 
 "I am an old man," he said simply, "and have 
 perhaps lost sympathy with youth, but to me it seems 
 a crime to think of such a thing." 
 
 "Go back," I persisted, "to the time when you were 
 young. You have been married and know how a man 
 feels toward the girl he would make his wife. Would 
 you have stood aside because another wanted her as 
 well?" 
 
 The pope was silent for full a minute, his whole 
 mind groping in the past I had so suddenly summoned 
 up. He gave himself so wholly to the recollection that 
 he seemed like one bound in a trance. As particular 
 memories proved more vivid, his face worked spas 
 modically with the force of his emotion and he whispered 
 brokenly to himself; but presently the trend of his 
 recollection brought him naturally round to the ques 
 tion I had asked, and he answered me as if there 
 had been no interval at all. 
 
 "With God s help, I did and she went from me," 
 he said solemnly. "I have never been a married 
 man,"
 
 The Way of the North 171 
 
 "How can that be," I burst out in amazement, "for 
 surely you have been ordained ?" 
 
 "I know the rule," he answered quickly, "but mine 
 is the exception that makes sure the proof. When I 
 came to my ordination, the bishop as usual chose for 
 me a wife. She was the daughter of a priest and I 
 had known her as a child. I had loved her and wanted 
 her, and it was heaven to me when her father pledged 
 to me her hand. She was a good girl, and promised as 
 he wished, but before the day came it transpired that 
 she had only liking for me, not love, and that her 
 heart was centred on another man." He paused for a 
 moment to regain his self-control, and my sympathy 
 went out to him, for I knew how bitter the memory of 
 it all must be. 
 
 "Well," he said with a sigh, "she went away with 
 him but I had come through my trials and the bishop 
 made a special dispensation and allowed me, single, to 
 enter on my work." 
 
 There is a deadly sinking of the heart that comes 
 when one hears suddenly some treachery to a friend, 
 and listening to his pitiful story I felt the thing 
 grip me underneath my ribs. It seemed so use 
 less that one so guileless and kind-hearted as the 
 pope should have come to feel the pinch of such a 
 sorrow, that, hearing it, my thought rose up instinc 
 tively in opposition. 
 
 "By God," I said, "you were well out of it!" But 
 the pope s hand went up in protest and he sat suddenly 
 bolt upright. 
 
 "No, no! Oh no!" he cried with earnestness that 
 was almost pain. "It was I if anyone who was to 
 blame. She came to me honestly with the truth, and,
 
 172 The Way of the North 
 
 God helping me, I let her go. When she went, I my 
 self helped her to steal out unobserved." 
 
 "And you have never married since?" 
 
 "No," he answered, with a slight shake of his head, 
 "I could not if I would. The betrothal was counted as 
 a marriage in giving me the robes, and you know we 
 are not allowed to marry twice." He let himself back 
 again into his chair and took the time to regain his 
 serenity of mind. I too was silent, not alone from 
 delicacy, but because I really did not know what to say. 
 When he spoke again, it was with a return to his 
 ordinary voice. 
 
 "It proved itself right in the end," he said simply, 
 "for she has been always happy, and I myself did not 
 lose everything, for the memory has been very dear. 
 It has indeed been not only a memory but an inspiration. 
 I could not marry, and the thought of her has stood 
 like a wall between me and the other thing from then 
 till now. It is because I know the strength of being 
 pure toward women, that I wanted to talk to you of 
 your affair before I went away. I have been clean," 
 he said with conscious pride, his voice rising exultantly 
 in his conceit of sweet self-righteousness, "and the 
 thought of it has always been a strength. It is the 
 justification of my judgments where need comes in 
 my work and the one thing that assures me of my 
 fitness in it and my consecration. If I should lose it, 
 I could not stay in the ministry a day. You, Fedor, 
 have a different life, but the same cleanness will bring 
 the same help to you. I love you," he said shyly, 
 rising and coming to my side, "and I know you will let 
 me warn you if there is need." 
 
 He bent above me with such fatherly solicitude and
 
 The Way of the North 173 
 
 laid his hand so pleadingly on mine that I was glad that 
 I could look back at him with honest eyes. 
 
 "My hands are clean, Joassaf," I answered with a 
 smile. "Would it make the matter better for you if 
 I told you that the girl cares more for me than she does 
 for the man to whom she is betrothed ? " 
 
 "Has she told you?" he demanded sharply. "How 
 do you surely know?" 
 
 "No, she has not told me," I replied honestly. "At 
 least she has not told me so in words, but down in my 
 heart I know that it is so, and that is the justification I 
 have in my pursuit. And there is another factor you 
 have missed: the man to whom she is betrothed cares 
 less for her than he does for another girl." The pope s 
 eyes kindled with the confessor s interest in a secret, 
 and he looked at me with growing understanding in his 
 face. 
 
 "Marfa Alexandrovna ? " he whispered. 
 
 "Yes." He was silent a moment while he thought 
 the matter out. 
 
 " I understand, I think," he ventured, speaking more 
 to himself than to me. "It is no wonder she was dis 
 turbed." He returned to his chair and I waited for 
 further question, but none came. 
 
 "Well," I said finally, "are you satisfied that there has 
 been no wrong?" He looked up at me from his 
 reverie with real wistfulness. 
 
 "You will surely marry her, Fedor?" he asked. 
 
 With a sudden glow of feeling, for I had never before 
 acknowledged definitely to myself that I really hoped 
 to make her mine, I answered: 
 
 "Yes, if she will come to me, I surely will." The old 
 man smiled radiantly and held out his hand.
 
 174 The Way of the North 
 
 "I am sorry I misjudged you," he said humbly. 
 "The love of a good woman is a precious thing." 
 
 We both went back to our meditations and our 
 pipes, and there was silence between us until Peter 
 Nicolaievitch and Alexei Yegorovitch returned. They 
 came in heavily and without speaking, and their sullen 
 depression and downcast looks proclaimed that their 
 mission had not found success. The pope was the 
 first to break the silence. 
 
 "Did you see the man?" he asked with anxious 
 eagerness. 
 
 "Yes, we saw him!" said Peter Nicolaievitch with a 
 growl. He volunteered no further information, and it 
 was with more timidity and only after a seasonable 
 waiting that the pope ventured to speak again. 
 
 " Did he er refuse to do what you wished ? " 
 
 "It is that trouble about his wife," broke in Alexei 
 Yegorovitch irritably. "The man is bitter beyond 
 belief. We promised him money or anything he liked 
 even to the getting Anna Gregorovna to take off the 
 spell but the best we could do was the promise that he 
 would be as easy as his conscience would permit; and 
 that we got by the threat that if he hurt you, the charm 
 would work and his wife would have another seizure 
 before night. From what I know of the woman," he 
 added with growing satisfaction, "if he tells her what I 
 said, I believe she will." 
 
 "You will get at least one blow," said Peter Nicolaie 
 vitch. "Aside from his malice, the man is honestly 
 convinced that the sentence must be carried out and 
 he will stand for one. As for the rest, it will depend 
 on what he thinks he can afford to do. He would like 
 to give them all to you if he could,"
 
 The Way of the North 175 
 
 "Well," I said, "you have certainly done what you 
 can, and I do not see anything else for it now but to 
 make the best of it and go to bed." 
 
 Peter Nicolaievitch and the lieutenant steadily 
 demurred and would have stayed with me throughout 
 the night, but there are times when sympathy is worse 
 than solitude, and after several attempts I drove them 
 out. The pope made no further proffer of commisera 
 tion or regard, and we both undressed and went quietly 
 to bed. 
 
 I did not readily drop off to sleep. Alone with my 
 problem in the dark, it took hold of me as it had not 
 done in the light. I was not afraid of the punishment 
 that was to come, nor did it once weigh on me as a 
 disgrace; but in the bravest men there is an honest 
 nervousness born of the contemplation of pain that is 
 to come. It is not a thing that saps determination or 
 makes less strong the action of the will. But like a 
 heartsickness, it hangs lead-weighted on one s peace 
 of mind and makes it difficult to rest or sleep. 
 
 Yet in it all I do not think I cursed myself that the 
 trouble had occurred. It is a fool thought, I suppose, 
 for a man so old to have a thrill in having done a senti 
 mental service to a girl, but when I thought how at the 
 threat of harm her hand crept out and sought about for 
 mine, I would have risked a second jeopardy to have 
 it done again. 
 
 It was a dark night and still, and the smoke cloud M 
 the room kept even the mosquitoes from their wonted 
 noise. The pope had promptly fallen into sleep and 
 I could hear his long-drawn, even breathing from his 
 bed. As the air cooled in the room, the rafters sprang 
 and cracked, the noise of them coming sharply in the
 
 1 76 The Way of the North 
 
 silence like reports of guns. I tossed and turned and 
 could hold no position long. I essayed to count, and 
 racked my brains to find some new jumble of repeated 
 words to bring the monotony that would summon sleep. 
 I must have found it somewhere, though I know not 
 when it came; for suddenly, when I remembered, it 
 was growing gray about the window and I heard Ptttr 
 Nicolaievitch stirring in his room. I sat up in bed and 
 rubbed my eyes to clearer sight. Then I put on my 
 clothes and dashed my face with water till I was full 
 awake. As I finished, the door opened and Peter 
 Nicolaievitch came softly in. 
 
 "Good!" he said when he saw that I was dressed. 
 With a voice pitched low lest he should wake the pope, 
 he asked me to go out into the eating-room beyond. 
 Here he had set out a bottle and two glasses and a plate 
 of bread. He poured out a glass of vodka for himself 
 and a larger one for me. 
 
 "Drink it all," he said authoritatively, and his 
 manner was that of one who has done a wrong and 
 seeks to make amends. "It will make you strong to 
 bear it; but do not eat much bread. The strain brings 
 sickness when the stomach is too full." He did not look 
 at me, but went about with his eyes cast down as if in 
 some way he was responsible for the trouble I was in. 
 I drank the liquor at one draught, but the bread lacked 
 taste and lingered drily in my throat. When I had 
 done, he got to his feet and, still with his back toward 
 me, said impersonally: 
 
 "It will be sun-up in ten minutes," and started for 
 the door. I followed him briskly, for though my cour 
 age was down in the lowest depths, I would not for the 
 world have had him think that I was afraid.
 
 The Way of the North 177 
 
 "Alexei Yegorovitch was up and coming with us," 
 he said at we passed out, "but I thought you would 
 prefer to go alone." 
 
 " You were right," I assented. "There is no need for 
 other lookers-on." We walked in silence till the 
 buildings had been passed and we came out on the 
 south meadow where I had talked with Anna Gregor- 
 ovna the day before. The place of punishment was on 
 its eastern edge, and there, by the post erected for this 
 need, I saw Arseni Kuznetzof and two other men already 
 waiting for us in the growing light. Peter Nicolaievitch 
 looked at them with gathering disgust. 
 
 " Damn Baranof ! " he said between his teeth. "This 
 is a business I do not like." 
 
 The men stirred themselves as we came up and the 
 two guards stood at attention in deference to Peter 
 Nicolaievitch s rank. Arseni Kuznetzof did not look 
 at us or speak, but busied himself with unwinding the 
 long bundle that contained his whips. 
 
 I was fascinated by his movements and stood at some 
 paces distance and watched him as he worked. He 
 went about the matter with a studied coolness and, 
 when the things were free, tried the thongs one after 
 another, stretching the lashes and measuring them along 
 the stocks and finally laying them in order on the ground. 
 
 From the time we reached the place, Peter Nicolaie 
 vitch s manner had changed. He was no longer the 
 man, but the officer of the guard. He returned the 
 salute of the soldiers and went over to where Arseni 
 Kuznetzof stood. 
 
 "Is all ready?" he asked sharply, and his words had 
 the precision of a military command. Kuznetzof as 
 sented with an inclination of the head. Peter Nicolaie-
 
 178 The Way of the North 
 
 vitch had evidently hoped for another answer and his 
 face fell. At the end of his expedients, he delayed the 
 punishment till he could make a last appeal. 
 
 "Come here, Kuznetzof," he said with a backward 
 jerk of his head in my direction. "I want to talk to 
 you." He returned to where I stood and the man 
 slouched sullenly after him. When he stopped, the 
 fellow halted in front of him and stood looking up at 
 him with defiant eyes. Peter Nicolaievitch s face 
 flushed with a sudden anger, but he held the feeling 
 down and spoke in his ordinary official tone. 
 
 "Well," he said, "have you made up your mind? 
 What are you going to do?" The man hung down 
 his head and did not answer, but Peter Nicolaievitch 
 waited without further question, and at length the 
 fellow found the silence more embarrassing to him than 
 speech. 
 
 "The order was made," he ejaculated slowly, 
 without lifting up his head. Peter Nicolaievitch s 
 face hardened, but he still retained his self-control. 
 
 "You understand the case, Arseni," he said with such 
 persuasion as he could command. "The blow was 
 given in a just cause, and you know as well as I that if 
 this thing is held until Baranof is himself again, he 
 will be the first to order it not done. He did it in Eto- 
 lin s case not later than last month." 
 
 The man looked up at him and seemed about to 
 answer as Peter wished, but in an evil moment his 
 glance fell on me and his face darkened into its old 
 expression of malevolent dislike. 
 
 "It is the order," he said stubbornly, and would say 
 no more. He stood for a respectful interval as if 
 awaiting Peter Nicolaievitch s command, but re-
 
 The Way of the North 179 
 
 ceiving none, turned slowly to where his whips were 
 lying by the post. Peter Nicolaievitch checked him 
 for a last appeal. 
 
 "One moment," he said. "You have thought 
 clearly what the effect of this will be upon your wife?" 
 Kuznetzof stopped, and a contraction as if of pain 
 went across his face. He drew up his shoulders and 
 his hands went out in passionate contradiction. 
 
 "I cannot help it," he declared. "It has been 
 ordered!" I was ashamed we should thus coerce the 
 man from what he thought was right. 
 
 "Let him alone, Peter," I interjected sharply; and 
 then turning to the man "Kuznetzof," I said, "there 
 is no truth in that last matter. If you follow out your 
 orders, no harm will come from it to your wife." 
 
 The man remained looking at me in dazed suspicion 
 and crossed himself vigorously once or twice. Peter 
 Nicolaievitch shrugged his shoulders and stood obe 
 diently back. 
 
 "All right," he said. "Have it your own way." I 
 walked across to where the others stood and began to 
 remove my coat. 
 
 "Come," I said, "let us get it over as quickly as may 
 be." I stripped to the waist and took the position 
 shown me at the post. Kuznetzof held up the bar to 
 allow me to insert my wrists, and dropped and bolted 
 it upon them without vouchsafing me a word. With 
 the same cool air of unconcern he rolled up his sleeves, 
 and selecting a whip, took up his station at my back. 
 Peter Nicolaievitch, too, drew back till he was out of 
 sight. 
 
 "Are you ready?" he asked huskily. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, and bent down my head. I felt
 
 i8o The Way of the North 
 
 rather than saw that Kuznetzof stepped back and 
 raised the knout. There was a distinct stir as he 
 lifted himself on his toes and stretched to his full length 
 to reach the maximum of his stroke, and I heard the 
 sudden intake of his breath. Then like a living 
 thing, the whip came down and caught me all along 
 the back. 
 
 It was not at all what I had supposed the touch of a 
 lash would be, and I had to grip hard on myself to keep 
 from crying out. Each separate thong settled on me 
 in a seamy line that burned like fire and remained 
 fresh and stinging after the knotted cords had all been 
 drawn away. 
 
 Kuznetzof waited long enough to let me experience 
 to the full the exquisite torture of the pain, and then 
 stepping to the other side, so that the change of position 
 would lay the stripes in new and different lines, he 
 raised the whip and brought it down again. 
 
 Even then I managed not to cry outright, but in 
 voluntarily my body writhed and cringed under the 
 blow, and I felt myself go sick as death with the sudden 
 agony. Again there was the pause, and in it I heard 
 Peter Nicolaievitch s warning voice. 
 
 "Remember, Kuznetzof," he said, and his voice 
 had in it the ringing menace of command, "go on with 
 this cursed work if you like, but if you do, I myself will 
 see to it that you, if not your wife, shall pay for it to 
 the full. So take care what you do!" 
 
 The words seemed only to strengthen the bitterness 
 of the man, for he had evidently made up his mind to 
 go through with the thing and take the consequences. 
 With an inarticulate snarl he turned himself to his task 
 and raised his whip with the evident intention of striking
 
 The Way of the North 181 
 
 me again. I cowered as low as my taut arms would let 
 me and braced myself to meet the horror that was to 
 come. 
 
 I waited and waited, the seconds seeming hours, 
 but the blow did not descend. There was an exclama 
 tion from the guards, a commotion of feet behind me, 
 and the sound of a sudden fall. I gathered courage to 
 look around and saw Arseni Kuznetzof lying on the 
 ground with Peter bending over him and tearing wildly 
 at his throat. 
 
 My first thought was that he had interfered to stop 
 the blow, but a second glance showed me that the man 
 had fallen in some sort of a fit and that Peter Nicolaie- 
 vitch was rendering such aid as seemed suited to the 
 case. The man s mouth was drawn to one side, his 
 hands were cramped, and his feet beat an involuntary 
 tattoo upon the ground. The guards looked on in 
 horror and made no attempt to help. My instinct as a 
 doctor brought me to myself. 
 
 "Open his neck," I said, when I could get my self- 
 control. "Lay him with his head low so his throat 
 will fill with air." Peter Nicolaievitch looked up from 
 where he knelt and motioned to the guards. 
 
 "Undo the bar," he commanded, "and let the man 
 out." But neither one would risk approach to me. 
 They crossed themselves, and it was plain that they 
 conceived the fit to be in some way my doing and in 
 answer to Peter Nicolaievitch s demand. With an 
 oath, he got to his feet and did the thing himself. I 
 did not realise that I was so spent, but my hands, set 
 free, slipped laxly from the hollows, and I slid down in 
 a heap at the bottom of the post. 
 
 "Do not mind," I said, as he proffered help. "I
 
 1 82 The Way of the North 
 
 shall be better as soon as I am less faint." Peter 
 Nicolaievitch was as tender as a girl. 
 
 "He shall suffer for this," he said indignantly, as he 
 stroked ray head; then he added under his breath, "Do 
 you suppose the girl really had anything to do with his 
 having this fit?" 
 
 "Go," I returned, "I want to be alone. Take the 
 guards and carry Kuznetzof in. I will follow as soon 
 as I have strength." 
 
 "Do not hurry," he said sympathetically, "I will 
 arrange things for you at the house." He straightened 
 himself, called the guards, and set them to lift Arseni 
 Kuznetzof from the ground. He was limp again and 
 began to show signs of conscious life. They got him 
 up between them and disappeared with him in the 
 direction of the fort, Peter Nicolaievitch looking 
 anxiously back at me at intervals until they were fairly 
 out of sight.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FOR some time after I was left alone I was content 
 yet to be still. Then as the sting and faintness left me, 
 I sat up cautiously and took stock of the plight that I 
 was in. The keenness of the pain in my back had 
 lessened, but as I reached up with my hand I could 
 feel that the flesh had risen in great welts across it, and 
 in one place, where the skin was broken, my finger-tips 
 grew wet. 
 
 I reached out mechanically for my clothes, and with 
 no little pain and hardship got into them one by one. 
 The effort tired me, and I sat for a space to rest. Finally 
 the impulse quickened and grew strong to get myself 
 to home and bed, and with some difficulty regaining 
 my feet, I got slowly under way. The motion helped 
 me and my head became more clear, and with the clear 
 ness came the desire to avoid such stragglers of my kind 
 as might be early out, and to gain the barracks and my 
 chamber unobserved. 
 
 Fortune favoured me entirely at the start, but as I 
 reached the edge of the meadow nearest the stockade 
 the place where yesterday I had stood with Anna 
 Gregorovna and the child I was aware of someone 
 moving in the shadow just ahead, and stepped aside 
 until whoever it was should pass. But no one came, 
 and after waiting a moment I set out again. Once 
 more I saw the person a little farther on, among the 
 
 83
 
 184 The Way of the North 
 
 trees, and this time I perceived it was a woman standing 
 in the way. 
 
 It was only a question of time when I must face the 
 whole pack in the place, and there could be small com 
 fort in delay. I made up my mind on the spot that the 
 sooner it began and ended for me the better, and pluck 
 ing up my courage, I went steadily ahead. The figure 
 remained where I had seen it, as if awaiting my ap 
 proach, and as I came nearer I caught a something in 
 the outline that was familiar to me, and so recognised 
 that it was Anna Gregorovna who lingered, and knew 
 that she was waiting there for me. 
 
 She was well back in the shadow and made no effort 
 to meet me as I came. The air of bird-like lightness 
 that was her most common trait was for the moment 
 lacking, and she stood to wait for me, a shrunk, black 
 figure with drooping head, and hands clasped in front 
 of her in pathetic interrogation. 
 
 My first thought on seeing her was one of pleasure, 
 and I felt a thrill of pride that she should have cared 
 sufficiently to come. But I was yet too shaken physi 
 cally to give heed to much beyond the desire for rest, 
 and, even as it came, the sensation of joy gave way to 
 a dull feeling of discomfort that even she should come 
 between me and the quiet of sanctuary that I sought. 
 Then, too, my conscience told me dimly that it was not 
 fair to meet and talk with her when we were labouring 
 underneath such stress. 
 
 But though it was discomfort chiefly that lay behind 
 the thought, the effect upon my action was the same. 
 I did not want to see her, and when I reached the point 
 of the path where Anna Gregorovna stood, I turned 
 my head away and went stolidly along. However, it
 
 The Way of the North 185 
 
 was not to be as I designed. Before I was well past 
 her I heard her sob, and in another minute she called 
 me by my name. 
 
 "Fedor Fedor Kirilovitch," she said, and her voice 
 was tremulous with the stress of her emotion. "Will 
 you not even speak to me ?" I stopped at once, turned 
 back to where she stood, and answered her with apolo 
 getic gentleness. 
 
 "Forgive me," I said, "I had no meaning to disturb 
 you, but I am sick somewhat and very tired and I for 
 got myself in my eagerness to be home." She did not 
 seem to hear me, but stood with her eyes fixed straight 
 before her, and her whole consciousness absorbed by 
 what was on her mind. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, and her voice was almost a 
 whisper "oh, Fedor Kirilovitch, I saw it all!" 
 
 She swayed slightly forward and would have fallen 
 if I had not caught her with a steadying hand. Her lips 
 were without colour and there was no blood in her 
 face. The faintness that follows the seeing of revolting 
 things was strong upon her, and so deeply had the 
 horror fixed upon her mind, that for the moment she 
 was scarcely conscious of what she did. 
 
 "Do not think about it," I said soothingly. "It is 
 over now and there is no need for grief." She paid no 
 attention to my words but looked fixedly at my fingers, 
 and reaching out, grasped me suddenly by the wrist. 
 
 "You are hurt! " she declared, and her voice had the 
 sibilant thrill of tragedy. "There is blood upon your 
 hand ! " I smiled at her intensity and drew the offend 
 ing member from her grasp. 
 
 "It is not vital," I said with as much lightness as I 
 could assume. "It was the breaking of the skin where
 
 i86 The Way of the North 
 
 the lashes crossed that made it. I touched it with 
 my hand in putting on my clothes." She shuddered 
 and remained with her eyes fixed upon me in the same 
 dull fascination. 
 
 "Poor back!" she said, and reaching across my 
 shoulder, touched it lightly with her hand. "And I 
 was the cause of it!" she went on in keen self-accusa 
 tion. "If I had been content to go when Marfa Alex- 
 androvna urged me, it would not have come about." 
 
 "Do not grieve," I said again. "It is over now and 
 it is best to forget that it occurred. It was a mistake, 
 your coming out this morning. The thing was not fit 
 for you to see." 
 
 "I had no choice," she cried. "There was no other 
 way. Since I heard of it last night I have had no peace 
 of mind. I had done you wrong, and in the dark I 
 could not sleep and this morning I could not eat. There 
 was no rest for me till I came to you and told you I was 
 at fault." She paused uncertainly and I began again to 
 speak in deprecation of her distress, but it was very real 
 to her and she strenuously refused to hear it lightly met. 
 
 "It was not alone," she said shamefacedly and 
 choosing her words as if she did not quite know what 
 to say, "that I was foolish about going and so brought 
 the trouble on, but when you warned me I spoke to 
 you as if you were a coward and I thought you were 
 afraid. It is of that I am ashamed. Will you believe 
 me," she said, raising her eyes suddenly and looking 
 me bravely in the face, "when I tell you that when I 
 said it I did not think of you that way? It was only 
 that I was vexed for the moment that you should inter 
 fere, and I let my feeling into unkind words." 
 
 She was still confused by the faintness that had come
 
 The Way of the North 187 
 
 upon her, and as she spoke she put out her hands 
 unsteadily to support herself, and rested them against 
 my breast. Her eyes were wide with entreaty, and 
 before she finished speaking I saw them fill with tears. 
 Had she been nothing to me, I could not but have for 
 given her, and as it was, her self-abasement touched 
 me to the quick. 
 
 "Dear heart," I said, and covered her hands with 
 mine, "did I not tell you yesterday that I love you? 
 How then could I so misunderstand you ? " Her face 
 flushed red at the answer and her eyes went down ; but 
 she made no move to draw away from me and did not 
 take away her hands. 
 
 "I thank you," she said with some embarrassment. 
 "I do not deserve that you should be so good to me 
 when I can give you so little in return." 
 
 "But you do give something? " I demanded. 
 
 "Yes," she said softly, after a little pause. 
 
 "That is enough," I cried jubilantly. "You have 
 given me a hope that will keep me glad till I come back 
 to you again." 
 
 "Back?" she echoed in quick alarm. "You have 
 not thought to go away ? " 
 
 "What place," I answered, "is there here for a man 
 discredited as I have been ? " Again her lips began to 
 tremble and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "I know," she said, "and it is I who have made the 
 need for you to go." My confidence grew strong within 
 me and I felt it prick me fiercely to try the matter now. 
 
 "There is the way out," I answered boldly, "that 
 you should make the need for me to stay." She was 
 silent for the moment and then looked up at me with 
 shining yes.
 
 i88 The Way of the North 
 
 "So far as I am free to ask it," she said with earnest 
 ness, "you know I would not have you go." 
 
 "But that is not enough," I persisted. "The only 
 thing that would hold me to remain would be that I 
 could have you wholly for my own." She turned away 
 her face and made as if she would have drawn away from 
 me, but I would not let her go. When she spoke it was to 
 avoid the question and throw herself upon my gene 
 rosity by direct appeal. 
 
 "Why," she entreated, "do you ask for that which 
 you know I cannot grant ? " 
 
 "You can grant it," I insisted positively. "It is 
 a question of the wish, not of the power." She pushed 
 back from me to the full length of her arms. 
 
 "I cannot," she said piteously. "You know I have 
 given my word. It is something you must not ask." I 
 hardened my heart and pushed her relentlessly to the 
 wall. 
 
 "Then you are content to let me go?" She quailed 
 visibly but still had courage to reply. 
 
 "If needs must," she said faintly. "There is no 
 other way." I felt my assurance drop blankly to the 
 ground. I had been so certain of success that I had 
 risked upon a single throw, and now there came to me 
 the blunt conviction that in so doing I had been over 
 sure. I cursed myself for having so roughly driven 
 matters to a head; but the will stayed grimly with me 
 to see the thing out to the end, and I set myself to save 
 all the salvage possible from the wreck of my desire. 
 
 "Tell me," I said, "do you say this because you ought 
 to, or because you do not care ? " Either she distrusted 
 her composure or was uncertain in her thought, for to 
 the question she would answer not a word.
 
 The Way of the North 189 
 
 "Anna," I persisted, "I am going away from you 
 and here even if it is not the better thing there can 
 be no harm in my knowing the whole truth. Will you 
 tell me, if only for remembrance sake, whether your 
 heart is open toward me and whether you would be 
 content to come to me if it were not that you are bound ?" 
 Still she did not answer and steadily looked down. 
 
 "Tell me!" I repeated, shaking her hands to em 
 phasise the demand. She looked up quickly at me and 
 as instantly looked away; but not before I had read the 
 answer in her eyes. 
 
 "I do care," she said almost inaudibly, "and if I 
 were free to come to you, I would be content." 
 
 "God bless you!" I cried impulsively and throwing 
 prudence to the winds I caught her boldly in my arms. 
 For a moment she was passive and gave herself to the 
 embrace; then she remembered and struggled to be 
 free. 
 
 "Oh no, no! You must not!" she cried breathlessly 
 and pushed me back with her hands. I was ashamed 
 that I had forgotten myself and freely let her go. 
 
 "Forgive me," I said humbly. "The temptation 
 was more than I could bear." She was not angry, but 
 once clear of me stood looking anxiously around. 
 
 "Go," she said pleadingly. "I could not bear that 
 we should be seen together here alone." I would 
 have spoken further but she was resolutely silent and 
 turned away her head. So I left her standing in the 
 shadow and took my way back toward the post. 
 
 I suppose a sorrier figure of a lover seldom thus 
 parted company with his maid. In ordinary, my car 
 riage is sufficiently erect and I affect a decent neatness 
 in my dress; but now my back was stiffened with the
 
 igo The Way of the North 
 
 pattern of a whip, my hair dishevelled, and my legs so 
 weak that my walk was only an unseemly drag. But 
 I do not believe that daintier lover ever felt a greater 
 lightness at the heart. I forgot not only my present 
 ills but even the troubles that were to come, so that my 
 progress was on air because of pleasant self-communion. 
 Thus, in spite of physical distress, I was able to look 
 back bravely at Joassaf Petrovitch when I met him at 
 the barrack door and even made my greeting with a 
 smile. The old man came down to me at once. He 
 took my hand in both of his and there was a tinge of 
 mystery mixed with the sympathy that was in his air. 
 
 "I have arranged it all," he whispered eagerly. 
 "Your things are gone with mine and there is not even 
 need for you to go inside." 
 
 "Gone," I echoed in astonishment, "gone where?" 
 
 "To the boat," he answered guiltily. "I took it on 
 myself to send them out. You surely do not want to 
 stay here at the post, and this bidarka will be the last 
 for several weeks." The proposition took me entirely 
 by surprise. While I had truly thought to go, I had 
 not had in mind a scheme of quick departure such as 
 this. 
 
 "But Joassaf," I said in some bewilderment, "where 
 does this vessel take me if I go ?" 
 
 "To the north," he replied encouragingly, as if this 
 was the especial point of compass to which I wished to 
 flee. 
 
 "ToYakutat?" 
 
 "No, this side." Then with some hesitation he 
 continued: "I had planned that you should go ashore 
 with me." I understood it now, and the knowledge 
 brought an involuntary smile.
 
 The Way of the North 19 1 
 
 "Joassaf Petrovitch," I said rather drily, "has 
 Providence given you a revelation of a mission for me 
 as well as for yourself?" He looked at me wistfully, 
 though I could see he was abashed. 
 
 "No," he admitted with a deprecatory shake of his 
 head, "I do not know it is God s order you should go, 
 but I wanted you and I hoped that you would 
 come." 
 
 I thought the matter over and sought to make a quick 
 decision in my mind. It was as good an avenue of 
 escape as I could hope for unless I waited and went 
 back later to Okhotsk on the ship. As I thought of 
 Anna Gregorovna, the latter plan was utterly distaste 
 ful to my mind. The distance there would be too great, 
 and the chance too large of never seeing her again. 
 
 The Indian village, too, would be a safe and quiet 
 sanctuary and there I should not be more than a few 
 days distance from my happiness when I should feel 
 it proper to return. Then, too, it appealed to me that 
 I should be on hand to be of service to the pope instead 
 of leaving him to go out to his martyrdom alone. 
 
 "It is not so bad a plan, Joassaf," I said musingly. 
 "Only before I go, I should like something to eat." 
 
 "It is here in plenty," he replied with eagerness, 
 pointing to one of the bundles at his feet. "The boat 
 waits, and you can eat it when you are aboard." I 
 made no more demur but followed where he led, and 
 so little was I in love with the place that had thus lately 
 given me shelter that in leaving it I did not once look 
 back.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 BEING a young man still, it has commonly been a 
 thought with me that rest was only for the old and that 
 the vigorous failed of their full promise by just the hours 
 let go in inactivity. But with the pain that caught me 
 in my side, the stubborn stiffness of my welted back, 
 and the relentless sting where my inner garments 
 rubbed against the broken patches of my skin, there 
 grew in me a new and wholesome reverence for the value 
 of repose. It was not wasted time, but a sane seizing 
 upon vigour, to lie at rest in the bottom of the boat and 
 let the hours go by in idleness. 
 
 The bidarka was a great one built to carry forty men 
 and, under the paddles, skimmed across the level sea 
 as if it were a live thing having wings. There were 
 some thirty souls of us all told and, besides the pope 
 and me, but two were white. These were the govern 
 ment messengers between the posts, who looked not only 
 to despatches but also to the food and like supplies 
 which went from Sitka to the stations inland and 
 removed. 
 
 The whole ocean was traversably smooth, but for the 
 most part we kept near the shore. Only where there 
 was distance to be gained by run from point to point of 
 some deep-lying bay did we venture out at all into the 
 open sea. Had the thing been planned by choice we 
 could not have picked for travel a season more beautiful 
 to the eye or more grateful to the heart. The fort- 
 
 192
 
 The Way of the North 193 
 
 night that had elapsed since we came to this new land 
 had worked a magic change in earth and sea and sky. 
 The winter fog and cold had passed away and with 
 them the gloomy air of inhospitableness which had 
 seemed at first the mastering characteristic of the 
 place. 
 
 It was full summer now, with all the softness and 
 sweet familiarity that summer brings. The air was 
 mild and pleasing, the shores were warm with colour 
 where the flowers lay in great streaks and drifts, and we 
 never passed an island or high point without raising 
 from the rocks a sudden cloud of sea birds, white or 
 gray, which shrieked discordantly and whirled in dizzy 
 circles round about our heads. 
 
 There was small talk among us, and that in quiet 
 voice. The natives in these parts have not the light- 
 heartedness that marks the dwellers of Kadiak and 
 the isles. They neither laughed nor sang while at the 
 labour of their oars, and all day long without show of 
 pleasure or of pain were pleased to look on life with 
 calm indifference of mind. 
 
 The two messengers were more human in their ways 
 and sometimes talked. But they were shy men, with 
 more of hunters than of traders gifts, and by that 
 difference lacking in full fellowship. The pope was 
 tasting the joy that came from the fruition of his hopes 
 and was therefore utterly content. He sat in his place, 
 a happy man, and sang to himself and trailed his hand 
 in the water along the side of the boat with all the frank 
 abandon of a child. 
 
 As for myself, I scarcely missed the companionship 
 and was glad to be alone. It was too soon to formulate 
 a plan for future work. I was content to wait the
 
 194 The Way of the North 
 
 inclination, being wholly sure that when I needed it 
 the proper chance would come. In the meantime it 
 tickled my imagination that Fate, or Providence 
 rather, if I believed the pope, had arranged me in the 
 cast of my immediate future to play the preacher s 
 part among these heathen of the north. 
 
 Perchance my strength of arm would be of use to 
 supplement the salvation accomplished by the pope, in 
 that it might serve to hold permanently in the fear of 
 the Lord such souls as he brings in. But I doubted 
 the force of my theology for turning them primarily to 
 that salvation. Still, it was a good work and promised 
 interest, and I was careful in discussing it with Joassaf 
 Petrovitch to hide from him that I was approaching 
 it with a smile. 
 
 Concerning Anna Gregorovna I was not equally at 
 peace. I longed continually to see the girl and never 
 thought of her without a foolish yearning to have her at 
 close range. It had not seemed so hard a thing at 
 first to go away and leave her there behind. My 
 mind then was so full of the affair with Baranof that 
 there had been small space in it for anything outside 
 the one wild wish to get away. Perhaps, too, my con 
 ceit, following on the sudden certainty that in part, at 
 least, Anna Gregorovna returned my love, made me 
 flatter myself foolishly that my interest with her stood 
 in no danger of immediate wreck. 
 
 But once away, with cooler blood and time for 
 clearer thought, the thing took on a very different light. 
 The matter did not seem so sure to wait on my return 
 ing; and the more I thought of it, the more it appeared 
 a foolish, if not a dishonourable, thing that I had gone 
 away and left her unadvised, at the mercy of the man
 
 The Way of the North 195 
 
 with whom she had so honourably refused to break 
 her troth. It was not at all impossible that the vacillat 
 ing lieutenant might yet turn again to Anna Gregorovna 
 and hold her firmly to her word. 
 
 The idea stirred me so deeply when I thought of it 
 that, had it been possible, I would have turned the 
 expedition back, but when it came we were already far 
 upon the way, and all I could do was to promise myself 
 to cut my exile to its shortest decent length and resign 
 myself with patience to go on. My only comfort 
 came in the thought that Alexei Yegorovitch was in no 
 mood unduly to push the wedding on, and down in my 
 heart I nursed the conviction, born of hope, that the 
 girl herself would not consent to such a step until she 
 heard again from me. 
 
 So the hours passed comfortably and without a drag, 
 and it was a real regret to me when, in the late afternoon, 
 the great canoe slowed gently to the shore and left us 
 with our trappings on the land. 
 
 Marfa Alexandrovna had been better than her word 
 and had furnished us not only with an interpreter, but 
 also bearers to advance our loads. My back forbade 
 the burden of a pack, and I alone of all the party went 
 light-freighted on the way. But the loads, divided 
 out, sat gently on the others as to weight, and the pope 
 even found in his naught of inconvenience. 
 
 We walked for nearly an hour before the stopping 
 for the night, and in that time left the water and shore 
 line far behind. There was a rough path leading inland 
 from the sea, an ordinary native highway for going out 
 and in, but there were no huts or clearings or other 
 signs along it to show in this wilderness there was human 
 life. The wet moss beds gave way to meadows after
 
 196 The Way of the North 
 
 the first rise, and we walked with drier feet. Just before 
 dusk we emerged from a forest so close set that in it it 
 was already dark, and came out on a level place where 
 a group of Indian huts was still visible in the failing 
 light. 
 
 My first thought was that we had come to our jour 
 ney s end, but a second glance showed me that the 
 village was deserted, the roofs broken in and tumbling, 
 and the whole place overgrown and mouldy with 
 decay. The thing excited curiosity, and I asked the 
 interpreter how it came about. 
 
 "It was a pestilence," he said, "that happened 
 four years ago. If you will look around, you can still 
 see the bones." Involuntarily, I let my eyes run 
 quickly round the place. It was a fact that here and 
 there about the houses there were heaps of bones that 
 had failed of proper burial, and their number showed 
 that in the swift affliction that had come upon the village 
 a majority of the inhabitants must surely have suc 
 cumbed. 
 
 Though not the end of our journey, I saw that 
 this charnel-house had been fixed upon by the guides as 
 a resting-place for the night. The natives paused 
 before a larger hut and, laying down their burdens, be 
 gan collecting material for a fire. The pope sat down 
 without a comment and made himself at home; but it 
 seemed to me a foolish thing to lie within the circle 
 where men had come through plague to such a swift 
 and wholesale end, and I stoutly expressed my doubt- 
 ings to the guide. 
 
 He listened gravely and, before answering, turned 
 to speak to the bearers in the native tongue. They 
 looked at each other with a conscious air of under-
 
 The Way of the North 197 
 
 standing and then laughed outright. The interpreter 
 turned again to me with the grin still on his face. 
 
 "I have spoken to the others," he said, "and they 
 all agree that you need not feel afraid. They know 
 the kind of plague that took these people, and it is not 
 the sort to linger in their bodies to do harm." I was not 
 satisfied, but there being no help for it I let the matter 
 pass and set myself to establish our comfort for the 
 night. 
 
 The empty room in which we spread our beds was 
 not so cheerless when we were all in. With the help 
 of a little oil, the fire on the middle stones burned 
 brightly enough for sight, and the smoke and the smell 
 of the cooking did much to render us content. The 
 natives herded by themselves and stayed by the fire to 
 rat. The pope and I, as befitted the dignity of our 
 station, kept to ourselves as well, and chose to receive 
 our portions outside of the door. It was pleasant in 
 the twilight and there was better air. 
 
 "How still the night is," said the pope, stopping 
 meditatively in the middle of his meal. "When God 
 saw fit to lay these souls to rest, He surely gave to them 
 a dreamless sleep." 
 
 "I wish," I answered, "that I knew more of the 
 balm with which He closed their eyes." It was my 
 professional instinct, I suppose, for my glance at the 
 moment was on a heap beyond us that marked the spot 
 where some poor wretch had rotted where he fell. 
 
 "Wait a moment," I said rising, and setting down 
 my plate on a convenient log. "I will look at these 
 bones and see what they have to say." The sun had 
 long been gone and the Arctic twilight, though it lasts 
 for hours, gives a light too dim for close inspection, and
 
 198 The Way of the North 
 
 the bones too were bleached and worn beyond the power 
 of telling tales. But as I stirred the litter with my 
 foot I saw that about a leg-bone in the heap which made 
 me stoop and pick it up. It was the great bone of the 
 thigh and was split laterally for a portion of its length; 
 and in the crack was bedded an arrow-head made of 
 stone. The thing gave me an idea and I passed to 
 another heap. There was no like marvel in it such as 
 I had before found, but near it I came upon a skull 
 bent in and broken at the back as if the man who 
 owned it had been struck with some blunt instrument 
 from behind. 
 
 Other like evidences were not difficult to find, and 
 in a few minutes I had collected an armful of these 
 mute witnesses of a great past tragedy and carried 
 them back with me to the door. Laying them in a 
 row on the log where we had been sitting, I handed the 
 split leg-bone to the pope. He looked the collection 
 over slowly and crossed himself before he spoke. 
 
 "They were murdered then!" he said in a whisper. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "the plague that took them may 
 have come from God, but in its application it was an 
 assisted scourge." 
 
 It was a relief, though, since we were to occupy their 
 place, to find that these poor souls had died of killing 
 and not some foul disease. My curiosity was satisfied 
 and I turned again to where I had set down my 
 plate; but the food that had been on it was all 
 gone. I lifted the thing up and turned to the pope 
 in some surprise. 
 
 "Did you not have dinner enough of your own," I 
 asked in playful accusation, "that you have also taken 
 mine?"
 
 The Way of the North 199 
 
 "I saw it done," he said placidly. "It was some 
 animal. I think it was a dog." 
 
 "Why did you let him take it?" I demanded rue 
 fully. The pope shrugged his shoulders and dropped 
 his eyes to his feet. 
 
 "He did not ask permission," he vouchsafed gently, 
 "and I did not see him till his nose was in the plate." 
 
 "Well, there is more," I said lightly and shouted 
 for the guide. 
 
 "Bring me something to eat, in a clean dish," I com 
 manded, "and also my gun and some loose scraps on 
 this plate." He did as I had ordered, and setting the 
 plate of scraps where it had been before, I seated myself 
 by the pope, leaned my gun within easy reach, and 
 prepared to finish my meal. 
 
 "Let us see if he will come again," I said threat 
 eningly. The pope looked on with growing disap 
 proval. 
 
 "Surely," he murmured, "you would not kill the 
 beast. It was only that he was hungry and in need." 
 
 "It was not your dinner that was eaten," I said 
 grimly, and went on with my meal. But my heart 
 softened as I waited, and well before the animal ap 
 peared I had made up my mind that I would not do it 
 harm. 
 
 I first saw it in the shadow beside a fallen tree. It 
 edged furtively from spot to spot of shade, and, growing 
 bolder, paused for a moment and stood to sniff the 
 odour of the cooking that came to him on the wind. It 
 was a lean and ragged specimen of the native dog, 
 yellow and unkempt and not yet fully grown. I recog 
 nised him as one of the class of strays, escaped from his 
 place in the sledge team, that, separated from man s
 
 200 The Way of the North 
 
 care, eked out as best it might a thievish living in the 
 woods. 
 
 The pope saw it when I did, and, fearing for my 
 discretion, rose quickly to his feet. He went to the 
 plate of scraps, lifted it from the log, extended it in 
 invitation and called to the dog to come. The animal 
 remembered enough of his former associations with 
 mankind to hold his ground and wait, though he 
 circled around Joassaf Petrovitch, keeping well out 
 of reach. 
 
 I doubt if the lure alone would have proved enough, 
 for the beast was overcoy ; but one of the natives stepped 
 out with a strap in his hand, and striking it loudly 
 against the leg of his boot, called peremptorily to the 
 dog in the native language to lie down. The noise 
 and the customary tone of authority had their imme 
 diate effect. The beast squatted instantly and re 
 mained in his place, and the native, walking up to him 
 as if the thing were a matter of every day, fastened 
 the thong about his neck and tethered him to a con 
 venient bush. 
 
 The pope thanked the man as if there had been real 
 service in the deed, and set himself to make the ac 
 quaintance of the brute. At first the dog would have 
 none of his regard and showed its teeth and strained 
 away from him at the full stretch of its rope. But 
 hunger is keen in stimulating faith, and animals are 
 quick to choose out those who are their friends. First 
 the bits of meat were accepted at long range, and then 
 from the hand, with slow advance and panicky retreat; 
 but the pope was patient and found the matter near 
 his heart, and before I tired and went in for the night 
 the animal was supping contentedly from the plate and
 
 The Way of the North 201 
 
 Joassaf Petrovitch sat by him, beaming, with his hand 
 on the creature s head. 
 
 The night passed comfortably and we were early on 
 the road. There was no change in the disposition 
 of the party except that when we were loaded and ready 
 for the way I saw that the pope had with him the vagrant 
 cur, led in leash, with the evident intention of taking 
 him along. 
 
 "Have you not troubles enough without the burden 
 of that beast?" I asked in some derision. "You had 
 better leave him to his fate." But the pope smiled 
 and firmly shook his head. 
 
 "He was the first heathen in this land," he said, 
 "that God delivered into my hand. I take it as an 
 omen that I prevailed with him. Surely you would 
 not counsel that I leave my first convert by the way?" 
 
 I laughed at the conceit, for really the matter made 
 small trouble for any but himself. The only interfer 
 ence with me personally came from the fact that the 
 dog s presence made me travel wider of the pope. The 
 beast s conversion was purely personal to him. It had 
 understanding enough to recognise him as a base of 
 supplies and so accepted him. But it had no illusions 
 as to the other members of the party, and used its teeth 
 to such effect that after the first mile we came to travel 
 well outside the limit of its bond. 
 
 The way went over a mountain, tree grown, and at 
 the higher levels still wrapped in snow. Beyond it 
 the slope fell swiftly down again to the level plain, and 
 here upon the border of a little lake we came upon the 
 village we had sought. 
 
 At the first glimpse of it the pope set down his burden 
 and stood to gaze, crossing himself silently and letting
 
 202 The Way of the North 
 
 his lips move in a silent prayer. Then almost uncon 
 sciously we quickened our steps and, translating into 
 action the eagerness that possessed us to be at our 
 journey s end, made the last distance in breathless time 
 without a thought of effort or fatigue. 
 
 At the outskirts of the village we were met by a party 
 of three men. The leader among them was a short 
 man of stolid manner and ugly enough in face and 
 feature to inspire a great respect. He spoke in a tone 
 of authority to the interpreter, who turned to us at once. 
 
 "It is the chief," he said. "He wishes to know if 
 you belong to the party which was here three days 
 ago?" The pope and I looked at each other in sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Who do you suppose they were?" he said to me 
 with curiosity. 
 
 "I cannot guess," I answered. "It is certain no 
 one came here from the post." Joassaf Petrovitch 
 turned again to the interpreter. 
 
 "We are alone," he said, "and have no connection 
 with any other men." This was conveyed to the chief, 
 and he received it with a shrug of disbelief. 
 
 "Very well," said the interpreter, delivering his 
 answer, "he desires then that you remain where you 
 are and show what you have for trade." 
 
 "But we are not traders," protested the pope, "and 
 these are only our own personal effects. Tell him that 
 we do not wish simply to come and go, but have been 
 sent to live with him and his people here in this place." 
 This information being imparted, the chief seemed in 
 some perplexity and held himself suspiciously aloof. 
 Then, in answer to his direction, the interpreter went on: 
 
 " If you are not traders he does not understand why
 
 The Way of the North 203 
 
 you should wish to stay." The pope s imagination 
 fired at once. 
 
 "It is for his sake, not mine," he said solemnly. 
 "We came on God s work and seek no recompense for 
 ourselves. All we wish is to tell him and his people 
 about God, and through God s help to make them bet 
 ter men." 
 
 The statement, promptly transmitted in the vernacu 
 lar, bade fair to bring the usual stir that follows the 
 propounding of new doctrines of the faith. The chief 
 listened patiently and at the close began himself to 
 talk. He was a dignified savage and impressive in his 
 speech, and held his temper providently in hand. He 
 addressed himself now to one of his listeners and now 
 to them all together, and it was plain that collectively 
 they were struggling with the thought, and fain to 
 work the problem out. Finally the chief gave up the 
 struggle with a laugh, and the interpreter turned again 
 to us. 
 
 "It will be permitted you," he said, "that you may 
 stay. The chief says there are some very bad people 
 in this place whom he will be glad to have made good, 
 and he is pleased that you have come. But before you 
 go into the village he must see your things and judge if 
 what you say is true." 
 
 The way of obedience was the easiest in this case, 
 so our packs came down and were untied and thrown 
 open on the ground. The chief attacked them w r ith 
 the curiosity of a child, examining each article in turn 
 and talking volubly with his assistants all the time. 
 The lust of longing was upon him, and my blood boiled 
 as I watched his covetous touch as he fingered greedily 
 the pope s sacerdotal robes.
 
 204 The Way of the North 
 
 Joassaf Petrovitch was complacent and finally gave 
 him as a present an undervest of green which seemed 
 particularly near his heart. He donned it promptly, 
 and there being no more to see, reluctantly allowed the 
 packs to be closed as before. But no sooner were we 
 again in motion and the matter plain that we were 
 permitted to go on, than the bonds of silence around 
 us were loosened and the whole village rose up from 
 the cover where they had been hid and with shouts and 
 laughter settled down upon us as a lawful prey. The 
 men were not so dreadful, but the women had no fear. 
 They lacked entirely in reticence of mind and clacked 
 to each other about our appearance and fingered with 
 uncanny freedom such portions of our clothes and per 
 sons as it suited their curiosity to touch. The examina 
 tion was good-natured and done without intention to 
 displease. Joassaf Petrovitch, seasoned by his priestly 
 occupation, received their attentions in fair part; but 
 for myself I was glad when the chief s house was reached 
 and we found between us and the curious crowd the 
 barrier of its restraining walls. 
 
 The chief, whose name is Shakmut, has three wives 
 and many children and is a great man, gauged by the 
 standards of his world. He fed us sumptuously on 
 fish and meat, and as a final dainty served us with a 
 bowl of mountain berries drenched with oil. With 
 me, to look at them brought swift revolt, and even 
 Joassaf Petrovitch, who to this point had taken cheer 
 fully whatever came, tried but one mouthful before 
 letting go the bowl. 
 
 We held the seats of honour at the meal, and beyond 
 us, ranged in the order of their rank and age, were the 
 other members of the family. Each dish was passed
 
 The Way of the North 205 
 
 directly to the chief, who, without tasting it, handed it 
 to us. When we had eaten what we wished it was 
 returned to him, and he then satisfied his hunger to the 
 full. From him it went in order to the wives, and then 
 down along the line to the smallest child. I thanked 
 my stars that our hands went in before the other hands, 
 and, at the same time, wondered at the patience of the 
 ones who had to wait. The older people were apathetic 
 and made no exposition of their need, but down the 
 line among the smaller heads there was a row of wide 
 black eyes that followed hungrily each movement of 
 the bowls, and where their contents grew unduly less 
 this interest kindled almost into fear. 
 
 The interpreter found little time for rest, for the 
 pope talked unceasingly while he ate and kept him 
 busy as a go-between. Shakmut was gracious and 
 promised everything he wished. 
 
 "To-morrow," he said, "you shall have a house and 
 men to set it right; and in your work we will help you 
 as we can. You say you came to make my people 
 good. It is a wonderful thing and one of which we 
 have much need. I have a brother, Kettlewah, and 
 he is the worst man in this place. He shall go to you 
 to-morrow, and it will be a great relief to me when you 
 have made him good." Joassaf Petrovitch heard in 
 mild surprise. 
 
 "Tell him," he said to the interpreter, "that he does 
 not wholly understand. I shall be glad to talk with 
 his brother when he comes, but whether he is made bet 
 ter will depend wholly on the man himself and on the 
 saving grace of God." This being translated to the 
 chief, he considered for a moment, looking shrewdly 
 at Joassaf Petrovitch with his half-closed eyes.
 
 2o6 The Way of the North 
 
 "Are some men so bad, then," he said ironically, 
 "that they cannot be made better by your God?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" cried the pope as he caught from the 
 interpreter what the other meant. "There is none so 
 bad he cannot be saved if only he will come to Him." 
 He rose unconsciously in the excitement of his earnest 
 ness, and planting himself before the chief, launched 
 into warm discussion of the doctrines of his creed. 
 At first the interpreter waited, expecting him to stop; 
 and when he did not, tried in vain to break in on the 
 current of his speech. The thing was useless, so he gave 
 it up and stood to wait till the flood of eloquence should 
 of itself subside. 
 
 Shakmut kept his eye upon the speaker and listened 
 with the air of one who understood; so the pope found 
 no reminder that he sowed in stony ground, and let the 
 stream of eloquence go on. But the chance came that 
 a particularly fiery period found its end in a direct 
 interrogation to the chief. Then the shadow of 
 vacuity in Shakmut s face gave to the pope an inkling 
 of the truth and he turned and caught the gleam of 
 humour in my eye. His face flushed and he looked 
 again at me with the shamefacedness of a guilty child. 
 
 "Truly, I forget," he said apologetically. "It 
 seemed somehow as though he must surely under 
 stand." But his embarrassment went again as quickly 
 as it came and he turned to make the interpreter 
 his saviour from mistake. 
 
 With infinite patience and slowness he began to go over 
 the whole thing again. The repetition had small interest 
 for me and I let myself forget it in the comfort of 
 my pipe. The pair talked and talked and worked 
 the interpreter without end; and were still at it when
 
 The Way of the North 207 
 
 the men came in to lay down on the platform our 
 bedding for the night. The pope was in high feather 
 with himself and the world. 
 
 "God is surely in this place," he said solemnly. 
 "There is a boy here now who has been a hostage 
 with our people and is already instructed in our faith. 
 He is to come to us to-morrow when we are settled in 
 our house. The leaven seems already working in this 
 family here and when the chief comes in there will be 
 more." Down in my heart my faith was less than his, 
 but it would have brought him only pain had I gainsaid 
 him, and I wisely held my peace. We were still about 
 our preparations for the night when the interpreter 
 once more came back to us. 
 
 "The chief," he said to the pope, and his air was of 
 one who bore good tidings, "desires that you be happy 
 while you are doing good. He will give to you the one 
 of his wives you may wish to choose, to be a wife to you 
 while you are in this place, and he wishes you to say 
 which one of them you prefer, so that he may arrange 
 the matter now." The thing came like a thunderbolt 
 from a clear sky and the pope blinked and gasped as 
 if he had been struck. The power of speaking failed 
 him and he blushed up to his hair. 
 
 I looked across to where the chief and his wives 
 stood waiting for the judgment and realised with delight 
 that the women had been counselled of the matter and 
 were watching with absorbed interest the man who 
 was to choose. Then I looked again at this northern 
 Paris brought to unwilling choice and I nearly laughed 
 aloud. I think we both realised that the offer was 
 made in innocence as well as honest faith, but that did 
 little to dispel the pope s confusion for the time. At
 
 208 The Way of the North 
 
 last his voice came back and he turned in helpless 
 embarrassment to me. 
 
 "What shall I do?" he whispered faintly. 
 
 "Take one of course," I said with growing joy. 
 "You surely would not wish to offend the chief. The 
 little one seems to be the most attractive and anyway, 
 a wife is a handy thing to have about the house." 
 
 "Be silent," he broke in in stern reproof. "Are you 
 never serious?" He thought for a moment while he 
 made up his mind. Then turning to the interpreter 
 he said: 
 
 "Which one of these women did the chief first take 
 to wife?" 
 
 "See here, Joassaf," I murmured in ironic disapproval, 
 "would it be right for you to choose that one, do you 
 think?" He gave me another indignant look, but 
 vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 The interpreter put the question to the chief in open 
 council, and I watched with interest the breaking of the 
 news. Both Shakmut and the women received the 
 word with some surprise; but the effect of it upon the 
 latter was plain to understand. The little one shrugged 
 her shoulders, laughed consciously and said something 
 to the others in a subdued tone. The one who had 
 first been wife did not blush because her skin was too 
 dark to let the colour show, but no one could mistake 
 that she understood that the choice had come to her 
 and felt it as a triumph over the younger pair. The 
 pope saw this as well as I and stood shamefaced and 
 helpless, waiting for the word. 
 
 "The chief is satisfied," said the interpreter, coming 
 back. "Her name is Nikta. She is the older woman 
 to the left." With rare control the pope held in his
 
 The Way of the North 209 
 
 feelings and made his answer with almost his usual calm. 
 
 "You have mistaken my desire," he said dryly. 
 "I have neither wish nor thought to choose. Tell the 
 chief that the reason for the asking was that it is not 
 right for a man to have more than one wife at a time. 
 This Nikta is the only wife he has, and God will not be 
 with him till he puts the other two away. As for 
 myself, I have no wish for any of the three. My life 
 is given wholly to God s work, and in it there is neither 
 need nor leisure for a wife." 
 
 When he began to speak the interpreter s face still 
 held the puzzled expression it had caught, on the 
 announcement, from the countenances of Shakmut 
 and the younger wives. I am not sure he wholly 
 grasped the argument of Joassaf Petrovitch s theology, 
 but he lost nothing of the fact that the decision in 
 favour of the older wife had been but a mistake; and 
 when he realised it, his perplexity passed away and his 
 mouth stretched out into a delighted grin. Most times 
 he gave no sign of interest in his work and went about 
 it with a stolid face. But this translation came quite 
 to his taste, for he entered upon it with a positive air 
 of glee and spoke the message with a glibness that con 
 firmed in me the feeling that the religious side of it 
 was not strongest in his mind. 
 
 The family heard him through with an interest that 
 did not flag. Shakmut s face remained impassive, his 
 feelings in the matter being evidently of divers kinds. 
 But before the interpreter was done, the two younger 
 women fairly laughed aloud and looked from the pope 
 to Nikta with eyes that danced with mirth. 
 
 The discarded woman answered not a word but stood 
 for a full moment in the shadowy light, gazing at the
 
 2io The Way of the North 
 
 pope with eyes that had in them somewhat of anger, 
 but more of sorrowful reproach. Then without 
 deigning further notice, she turned away from the 
 whole group and went silently about her work around 
 the house. 
 
 Shakmut found no wish to raise the gauntlet Joassaf 
 Petrovitch had thrown down, and contented himself 
 with passing the matter with a shrug. The pope s 
 face grew calm again, but he had scarce regained his old 
 serenity of poise when we were left to make us ready 
 for the night. 
 
 "They did not mean it badly," he said gently. 
 "To them the offer was a kindness, not a crime. It is 
 not unlike they all have extra wives. But the wrong 
 is there, just the same," he added sturdily, "and I shall 
 insist that Shakmut give them up."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THERE is no stimulus to right living more powerful 
 than the holding of a cheerful mind. The man who is 
 light-hearted finds small need to quarrel with his fate, 
 and he who laughs at fortune is commonly surest of 
 attracting her regard. But there are times and places 
 which demand the sober front, and the salvation offered 
 to these natives by the pope requires a seriousness of 
 recognition which it seems beyond their power to 
 give. 
 
 They have listened readily to all his homilies and 
 pleas, they have attended each service as if it were a 
 show, they have brought their friends and babies to 
 be made good, and baptised; but when it has come to 
 solemn introspection and the arduous applying of his 
 doctrines to the cleansing of their lives, they have failed 
 entirely to take hold upon the need, and lightly shifted 
 the obligation with a laugh. 
 
 In the number of our converts there has been naught 
 to ask. We have been here now three weeks and have 
 set the seal of baptism upon forty willing heads. 
 Shakmut still holds out and is without the pale. It stirs 
 his soul to think of giving up his wives; but the pope has 
 been as hard as iron, and without the sacrifice will not 
 seal him into faith. And truly it is an ordeal more 
 harsh for this native than for the common man. It is 
 pain enough to lose a single wife, and the double loss 
 cannot but bring to him a special strain. 
 
 211
 
 212 The Way of the North 
 
 The question of the wives has come to be a danger 
 in our way. The men we might convince, but the 
 women have been unheeding and against us one and 
 all. They have openly scoffed at changing in this 
 regard and jeered at the restraint that would give 
 but one of them to one man. The excess in numbers 
 is with the softer sex, and I shrewdly guess that behind 
 the play of their derision has been the hidden fear that 
 if the new allotment came, a part of them would surely 
 fail of place. 
 
 The first convert to come in was Parka, the youth 
 who had been a hostage at the fort. The pope sought 
 him out early the first day and took him to be with us 
 in our house. There is no doubt that Shakmut has 
 done all that he agreed and, for my part, I would set 
 off this service to his credit, and let him keep his wives. 
 The house he gave us is commodious in that it has three 
 good-sized rooms. It is beside the lake, convenient 
 for baptising the accessions to our flock, and Shakmut 
 has had it put to rights, and rendered habitably clean. 
 
 We left the chief s house early, after our first night in 
 the place, and without ceremony set up our household for 
 ourselves. Till this was done, the pope was restless 
 and had no peace of mind, and though no sign was 
 made of further thought to saddle us with wives, he 
 kept a wary eye upon the women as they went about the 
 house and altogether had an air of fearful certainty 
 that they would pounce upon him if they caught him off 
 his guard. 
 
 But once in our own place, his confidence returned, 
 and scarcely were we settled when I saw him laying out 
 his robes and dressing for the first public service of his 
 work. Clad in his full vestments, he took up his bell,
 
 The Way of the North 213 
 
 and pausing a moment for a last silent prayer, went 
 forth into the open and vigorously rang. 
 
 The thing as yet had no significance to the savage 
 mind, and for the moment not a native came. But 
 for all that, the summons was near to costing the pope 
 the one convert he had already made. When he began 
 to ring, the dog, which had been transferred with our 
 other luggage to the place, lay tethered by the doorway 
 almost underneath his feet. It was the first time 
 evidently that the creature had ever heard a bell, and the 
 clangour just above its head came as a sharp surprise. 
 At the initial peal it woke with a leap that lifted it 
 from the ground and with a yelp of terror fled away 
 with such heedless speed that, coming to its tether s 
 end, it brought up with a snap and tumble that well- 
 nigh broke its neck. 
 
 It lay so still the pope believed it to be dead, and 
 dropping his bell, he went to its relief. The beast 
 was only dazed and, being turned over, kicked vigor 
 ously and got slowly to its feet. 
 
 "You are right, Joassaf," I said with a smile. "The 
 animal is clearly convicted of sin to be so frightened at 
 the call to God." 
 
 "It did not understand," he said in mild excuse. 
 " Though there is keen quickening in the real fear of 
 the Lord!" 
 
 "The same objection runs to all of your proposed 
 flock," I said. "They are here for the saving, but the 
 trouble is to make them understand." 
 
 The dog was led away and tethered in a more 
 quiet spot, and the pope returned to the ringing of his 
 bell. This time the prolonged note was sufficiently 
 alluring to be accepted as a call. By twos and
 
 214 The Way of the North 
 
 threes the natives came and gathered near at hand 
 until the pope had a fair-sized audience to whom 
 to preach. 
 
 He began with an impassioned prayer for help, and 
 then passed around among them, sprinkling holy water 
 from a bowl. They looked upon the process as some 
 sort of magic spell and shrank away from contact with 
 him, moving out in front and falling in again behind to 
 watch his motions, so that there was a pleasing kaleido 
 scopic effect of constant motion in his congregation 
 that was as interesting as it was unique. 
 
 When he had blessed them all, the interpreter was 
 called and the pope talked to them of God and the saving 
 of their souls. They stood like children, open-eyed and 
 charmed, and gave close attention to his words. But 
 when he asked that those whose hearts were touched 
 should come and make profession of their faith, though 
 there was much talk among them and no little stir, not 
 one of them obeyed. 
 
 The next day, on the same inquiry, the boy Parka, 
 having been questioned privately by the pope and 
 declared of proper mind, stepped out before the gather 
 ing and announced his readiness to believe with us 
 and throw in his faith with ours. 
 
 It would have been a callous heart that was not 
 stirred by the simple exaltation of Joassaf Petrovitch 
 while he set the seal of consecration on this first regen 
 erate heathen soul. His face shone like a god s, and 
 when the ceremony was done and the two came up to 
 gether from the lake, wet as the boy was, he gathered 
 the young convert in his arms and blessed him in a 
 voice that choked almost beyond control. As for the 
 natives looking on, their confidence in the practice
 
 The Way of the North 215 
 
 remained seriously in doubt, and one who spoke a little 
 Russian asked me in private if the boy would die. 
 
 The following day two other boys came forward in 
 like mind, and an old woman brought a baby and laid it 
 in Joassaf Petrovitch s arms. It was scrawny and 
 thin and weak, but I afterwards found it interesting 
 in that it had a skin eruption I had never before seen. 
 The pope looked at it questioningly and bade the inter 
 preter ask why it had been brought. 
 
 "That it may be baptised," the woman answered 
 promptly. 
 
 "But," said the pope, "it is too young to know and 
 there is no Christian of its race to be sponsor for it." 
 The woman shrugged her shoulders and put her hands 
 behind her back. 
 
 "We know that as well as you," she said coolly, "but 
 its father and mother are dead and it is sick and all 
 alone, and we thought if it should be baptised it might 
 change its luck." The pope s eyes filled with tears and 
 he turned and looked shamefacedly at me. 
 
 "Heaven forgive me," he said, "that I should ever 
 forget that there is always help in God!" He raised 
 the little creature tenderly and went down with it to 
 the water s edge. As is the custom with young children, 
 he did not dip it wholly in the lake, but contented 
 himself with lifting a little water in the hollow of his 
 hand and pouring it gently on the baby s head. 
 
 When he was done, he went back to the woman and 
 held out to her the child; but, for fear of evil, she would 
 not take it, now it was baptised, and shook her head 
 and, as soon as might be, shrank back into the crowd. 
 He tried giving it to another with the same result, and 
 in all the gathering found no woman with a tenderness
 
 2i6 The Way of the North 
 
 of heart so large that she would risk her personal 
 safety by the doing of this charitable act. At length 
 the pope gave up the matter in despair, and kept the 
 babe, and it became an inmate of our house. 
 
 One thing our sojourn here has brought clearly out. 
 I talked with the chief concerning the men of whom he 
 spoke to us on the day that we arrived, and he showed 
 me a parchment, given by them, confirming him in his 
 authority under our lord, the Czar. It is signed by 
 Lastockin, who is not our friend, and it is plain that 
 Lebedef and his people have stolen a march on us and 
 are secretly taking possession of the country on their own 
 account. Though I do not love Baranof, I resent this 
 treachery to the cause he represents and I am convinced 
 he should be told of it that he may be on his guard. 
 And to that end, unless occasion offers, I shall make 
 opportunity to send a message concerning it to the post. 
 
 The newness having passed, after the first week the 
 tally of men in the congregation fell steadily away. 
 The women remained constant, though I had no 
 question but I discerned in them a waning reverence 
 for the holy office of the pope. They cannot under 
 stand in him the reprobation of their family affairs. 
 They have discovered that he fears them as a sex, and 
 they seldom miss an opportunity to teach him that like 
 other men he is not wholly proof against their charms. 
 
 They stand close to him when he talks or prays. 
 They touch his garments and run their eyes approvingly 
 along the outlines of his form. They gaze up at him 
 with bright looks and deport themselves as if the only 
 object in their lives was to stand well sentimentally in 
 his regard. 
 
 The worst of the matter is that in these doings there
 
 The Way of the North 217 
 
 is to them no element of intended wrong. They say 
 and do without a thought of wickedness things that for 
 a woman of our race to do would set her irrevocably 
 without the pale. The frank simplicity of these north 
 ern women so clearly marked them as without evil 
 thought that, more commonly than not, the pope shut 
 his eyes as best he could and let the thing that shocked 
 him go unreproved. He felt somehow that such a 
 rebuke would only argue as an evidence of his own 
 uncleanliness of mind. 
 
 The only one to treat him with disfavour was Nikta, 
 Shakmut s oldest wife. She did not forget the slight 
 she deemed he put upon her in refusing her as wife, 
 and whenever her eyes met his there was an angry glow 
 in them that spoke full plainly of the wish within; 
 though she did not often look at him and for the most 
 part when she met him turned away her face. Yet I 
 believe that in the immunity it gives him, the pope 
 blessed her for her dislike and, if he conveniently could, 
 would have given over all the others unto anger. 
 
 There was one damsel in especial who looked at him 
 with large eyes and frankly leaned upon his liking for 
 her joy. She was less flippant than the rest, being, I 
 suppose, more staid in disposition, and she never 
 missed a meeting from the first. 
 
 On the ninth day she came forward and professed the 
 wish to walk in the way the pope had pointed out, and 
 went gladly with him down into the lake. She was the 
 first native of mature years to make her covenant with 
 God, and it struck me that the pope in his satisfaction 
 was somewhat indiscreet in his expression of the 
 tenderness with which he welcomed her into the fellow 
 ship of hope.
 
 218 The Way of the North 
 
 "She was my first," he said when I remonstrated 
 with him in the matter. "I have never had a daughter, 
 but I was so glad for her in her coming that my heart 
 went out to her with all a parent s thought." 
 
 "It is no doubt all right," I said with some reserve. 
 "My fear was simply that she would come to interpret 
 the matter in the selfsame way." 
 
 The girl made no reciprocation at the time, and after 
 her immersion went quietly away. But the event bore 
 out my judgment even as I had feared. On the 
 afternoon of that day we took our three boys and went 
 fishing in the river beyond the town. The sport was 
 good and the catch plentiful, and the pope planned 
 that the fish be dried and stored against our later winter 
 need. When, in the late afternoon, we reached the 
 house again, we found the convert there in full pos 
 session, her things stored neatly in the inner room 
 and her intentions plainly fixed on making it her 
 home. 
 
 The pope stopped in the doorway and looked at her 
 aghast. She had caught the proper idea of her place 
 within the house and was tending the fire and working 
 cheerfully about the cooking for the coming evening 
 meal. He recovered from his astonishment and went 
 to where she stood. 
 
 "Why are you here?" he asked with some severity. 
 She understood no word of Russian, and answered only 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Get the interpreter quickly," said the pope, and 
 held himself with such patience as he could until his 
 mouthpiece came. Then he made again the same 
 demand of the girl. 
 
 " Why," he said, "do we find you here in our house ?"
 
 The Way of the North 219 
 
 The girl looked from the interpreter to us without 
 embarrassment but with evident surprise. 
 
 "Was it not right?" she asked in some alarm. "All 
 the others have come here to stay." 
 
 "No," returned the pope, "the others were all boys." 
 The girl received the rebuff in sober silence and did not 
 answer till she had thought the matter out. Then she 
 said and there was a flutter of scorn about her upper 
 lip: 
 
 "If you did not want the women, why did you ask 
 them to come in ? " 
 
 "Because," said the pope, "I spoke as God s mes 
 senger in doing it and never for myself. The salvation 
 was for them without their coming here." The girl 
 hung on his lips as if she would surprise from them the 
 meaning of his words before they came to her in her own 
 tongue. 
 
 "Does he mean," she demanded breathlessly, "that 
 I am to go away?" 
 
 "Yes," said the pope laconically. 
 
 She stood still for a season, her face hardening and 
 her eyes flashing ominously with the stir of a sudden 
 rage. Then, as instantly she softened in self-pity at 
 the failure of her plans, and casting herself impetuously 
 at Joassaf s feet, she threw her arms about him and 
 laid her cheek against his knees. 
 
 "Tell him," she said to the interpreter, "that it is 
 not just to send me away. I believed in his god because 
 he told me, and if I do not stay with him how shall I 
 keep my faith ? Besides, he has loved me and been a 
 father to me, and I do not want to go away." 
 
 "I told you, Joassaf," I said, "that you made a 
 mistake in fathering the girl." The pope bent down
 
 220 The Way of the North 
 
 and gently but firmly unclasped the girl s arms until 
 he freed his legs. Then, stepping back to where he 
 gauged the vantage to be safe, he addressed himself to 
 me. 
 
 " How shall we get her out ? " he asked in helplessness. 
 
 "Why not let her stay? She will tidy things better 
 than a man and the baby would be safer with a woman s 
 care." 
 
 "It will not do," he answered firmly. "If we accept 
 her, on what plea could we refuse the rest ? " The girl 
 saw that I plead for her and turned her appeal to me. 
 But the pope was firm against her staying, and in the end 
 the compromise was made that she should go out from 
 us for the nights, lodging the time in a neighbouring hut, 
 but should have the privilege and the work of our 
 abode throughout the day. 
 
 In view of what came after, there is little doubt the 
 pope was right. The next day, at his customary call 
 to grace, there were seven maids stood forward, con 
 victed of their sins. The pope counted them over 
 slowly and looked significantly at me, and I thought I 
 caught an ironical suggestion in his eye. 
 
 Before he shrived their souls he spoke to them at 
 length and made it plain that our family hearth was 
 full and that they must go out as usual with their 
 crosses to their several homes. All seven received the 
 counsel calmly, though evidently with much chagrin; 
 and for several days no further converts took release 
 from sin. 
 
 It may be wrong to dwell so strongly on this motive 
 in the play. There was much of high thinking and 
 good labour in our daily lives in which the women had 
 no interest or part. But all the care with which we
 
 The Way of the North 221 
 
 have been bound, all the fear of failure which has 
 weighed upon our souls, has had its end and its 
 inception in their interference with our work. 
 
 Of the two of us, I personally have been more at 
 ease. The women have not stirred me with their 
 coquetry, and I have not had that joy in their conversion 
 that made the pope yearn for them and rejoice over 
 each saved one as over a rescued child. Perhaps if I 
 were less bound to Joassaf Petrovitch I should have 
 less greatly cared, but it was not good to watch him toil 
 so day by day and see above him hanging always the 
 boding shadow of defeat. Despite the gain in numbers 
 in his sin-washed flock, I saw a sinister increase in 
 opposition among both unregenerate and saved, that 
 in the end could bring but one result. At first this 
 current was a whim and a caprice the natural re 
 sistance of an ignorant mass to the force that strove 
 to move it uncomfortably for its good; but bit by bit I 
 was forced to see that in it there was an opposition 
 born of honest disbelief, and the breath of it was set to 
 blow Joassaf Petrovitch s ships as far as may be from 
 their proper port. 
 
 Nikta was still resentful and would not forgive. 
 Shakmut, though silent, thought sourly on the proposed 
 reduction of his wives; and above all, the women 
 generally found in the pope s severity a challenge to the 
 prowess of their sex, and never missed a chance to prove 
 the gravity of his mistake. 
 
 The pope himself saw all of this, but did not put a 
 fitting valuation on its force; or else, more like, was 
 over-confident of his own strength. He had been 
 uneasy from the first at the freedom of their thought, 
 and was still shyly restive under their familiar hands
 
 222 The Way of the North 
 
 But so strong was his reliance on his own purity of 
 life, that where his heart had gone out he did not always 
 show the wisest reticence in act, and the women mis 
 construed this softness and in it found new hope. 
 
 At first, on seeing it, I called him to account, with no 
 thought but the caution would be welcome at my 
 hand; but the repetition galled him as the days went 
 by and in the end I kept my admonitions to myself, 
 though not so soon but the shadow of them fell between 
 us and obscured the brightness of our previous perfect 
 trust. When his lonely seizures came upon him the 
 sort that would before have brought him for sympathy 
 to me he began to sit apart and brood silently on 
 his cares, finding his comfort in the companionship of 
 the foundling dog. The beast grew to be his close 
 associate and friend, and he lavished on it all the 
 tenderness and love he was denied expression of toward 
 the women of his flock. 
 
 It is a strange thing to look on, helpless, while such 
 events proceed, and watch them moving as one watches 
 at a play. Each day added to my growing fear and 
 fixed the certainty the end must come; but though I 
 knew the climax was ahead, I had no thought that it 
 would come so soon. 
 
 Last night the pope was in his gentlest mood, and 
 after the evening meal we smoked and lingered in the 
 quiet dusk and gossiped as we used to in the older 
 days. The talk ran all the way from Russia to the 
 troubles at the post, and when sleep pressed upon us 
 and we rose to go inside, we had well-nigh traversed all 
 the matter that was in our minds. 
 
 "But tell me," I added as a parting word, "is there 
 the perfect satisfaction for you in your work? If it
 
 The Way of the North 223 
 
 were given you to do again, would you so surely come ?" 
 The pope sighed softly and turned away his face. 
 
 "I did not want to come in the beginning," he said 
 simply, " and much about the reality disturbs me to the 
 bottom of my heart. But the call was a duty I could 
 not evade and, if God needs me and finds the thing 
 worth while, I have no way but to continue and try to 
 be content." 
 
 The pope s bed was spread in the main room to the 
 front, and I slept in the chamber behind it with the boys. 
 Joassaf and I went into the hut together, and bidding 
 him good-night, I passed through to my own place. 
 The bed was pleasant and the night still and cool, and 
 it was with a sigh of pleasure I laid me dowji to rest. 
 But somewhat in the season, or more likely the memory 
 of the talk that we had had that evening, weighed on 
 me like a homesickness and kept me wide of sleep. 
 
 It was a strange jumble of events that came in 
 procession to me as I lay, and each added to my 
 emptiness of heart. But I think it was of Anna Grego- 
 rovna mostly that I thought. It is strange how a 
 woman grows into a man s heart and makes herself 
 so much a part of him that to lack her is to make 
 impossible the full use of his powers. At any rate the 
 recognition of it is disturbing to one who comes to it 
 in his full manhood, after a string of years passed in 
 full confidence in his ability to go alone. 
 
 I turned the matter many ways before I went to 
 sleep and it yet swayed my consciousness long after 
 slumber came. It was a mad chase the lady led me 
 and, as is the wont of dreams, one that weighed heavily 
 upon my peace. It is the mark of this disordered 
 state that the thing desired is always just beyond the
 
 224 The Way of the North 
 
 reach and yet so close that the next step promises a 
 sure success. It must have been some time that I so 
 wrestled with the burden of my care; but at last the 
 aspect of the trouble changed, and in my dream I stood 
 ranged up before the castle of her heart and knocking at 
 the door of her regard. 
 
 So real the semblance of the action was to me that I 
 could hear each time the hollow echo that followed 
 on the stroke. Then the echo took on a vividness for 
 me that was stronger than the thought, and I wakened 
 to the realisation that the noise was not a seeming but 
 something actual and outside my dream. The sound 
 recurred with an unrhythmic steadiness and was so un 
 usual, coming in the night, that I forgot my dreaming 
 and came wide awake to listen to it. 
 
 At first it seemed as if blows were being struck upon 
 a bench or floor; and then as if, outside, someone w r as 
 chopping wood. A sudden rain that had come up 
 with the night was pattering noisily on the roof and 
 served to confuse the sound and make it difficult to 
 place. But at length I located it as coming from the 
 adjoining room, and looking across to it, I caught a 
 gleam of light that shone through the crack beneath the 
 door. 
 
 Whatever it might be, the pope was somehow con 
 cerned in it, and I got to my feet and moved softly 
 across the room. The door opened without noise, 
 but the caution was unnecessary for the room was 
 empty of all but the pope, and he did not hear me 
 even after I came in. The night lamp on the table had 
 been lit and, while it was nearly burned away, it served 
 to send a shadowy and fitful light throughout the room. 
 
 The pope was in his night-clothes as he had come
 
 225 
 
 from bed. He stood by the front wall of the room and 
 with a small axe was fashioning something out of wood 
 which, as I approached, he lifted and tried by holding 
 against the door. He glanced around at me as I came 
 nearer but did not stop his work or speak to me. His 
 hands trembled so he could hardly hold the tool and 
 he was consumed by a furious and eager haste. 
 
 "What is it, Joassaf," I said. "What are you trying 
 to do ? " He went on with the same fierce eagerness 
 and did not turn his head. 
 
 "It is a bar," he said huskily, " a bar to hold the 
 door." 
 
 "What dream have you had," I asked in astonish 
 ment, "that you are concerned this night to fasten up 
 the door when for so many nights you have slept with 
 it unbarred ? " He caught hungrily at the words and 
 paused with the bar still held against the place. 
 
 "Was it a dream?" he asked wistfully, and shook 
 his head as if to clear his vision and think the matter 
 out. Then whirling suddenly about, he thrust his hands 
 out to me in a passion of appeal. 
 
 "Tell me," he cried, " you said it was a dream." 
 The block he had been holding dropped unnoticed to 
 the floor, but he did not heed its clatter and stood with 
 every sense alert to catch my answer whsn it came. 
 As for me, I did not know what to say. There was no 
 reason for me in his sudden madness and I was doubt 
 ful what he wanted at my hands. But as it proved, no 
 spoken word was needed, for, without speech, he read 
 the hesitation in my face and with a bitter cry threw up 
 his hands and flung himself down into his old place. 
 
 "Too late!" he said. "I knew it was no dream," 
 and bending down he reached for the tool and block
 
 226 The Way of the North 
 
 and made as if he would have set his trembling hands 
 to work with them again. I went across to him and 
 threw my arms about him. 
 
 "What is it, Joassaf," I asked soothingly. "What 
 has happened to give you such distress ? " He threw me 
 off by a sudden movement and shrank away from me 
 against the wall. 
 
 "Do not touch me!" he cried hoarsely. "I am not 
 clean!" I had seen him so many times before bound 
 up in the net of his trance-like faith that I thought I 
 understood his present mood. 
 
 "Nonsense," I said, taking him again by the arm. 
 "I will see to it that no one comes. Leave this work 
 until to-morrow and come back to bed." He resisted 
 for the moment, but in the end he acquiesced and let me 
 lead him unwillingly away. He was scarcely conscious 
 of my ministrations and talked incessantly in broken 
 words. I guided him to where his bed was set and 
 tried to get him to lie down, but he demurred strenu 
 ously and hung back like a frightened child. 
 
 Not there!" he pleaded and shrank aw r ay as if it 
 had been an object to be feared. Across the room he 
 found a settle with which he was content, and I sat 
 down beside him there and waited patiently for him to 
 grow more calm. 
 
 It was plain to me now that his condition was not 
 one of the absorbed religious possession I had seen him 
 in before, and I made vigorous search among the prob 
 abilities to gain the reason why he was so moved. 
 The only clue that was forthcoming was his eager 
 effort to put up the bar. I waited till he was more 
 composed in his manner and talked less to himself, and 
 then I spoke to him.
 
 The Way of the North 227 
 
 "Joassaf," I asked, "why did you wish to bar the 
 door ? Had there been someone here ? " He shivered 
 at the question, but with an effort lifted up his head. 
 
 "Yes," he whispered. 
 
 "Was it a native?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " A man or a woman ? " I continued, though I guessed 
 what the response would be. He was a long time 
 gathering up his courage, but at length brought himself 
 to speak. 
 
 "It was a woman," he said faintly, and turned away 
 his face. 
 
 For a while I sat in silence and forebore to probe into 
 his wound. At times a fever of unrest took hold upon 
 him and he paced fiercely up and down the room. But 
 for the most part he was moved to sit close by my side, 
 and I could see that he found comfort in the mere 
 physical contact and was grateful for the warm touch 
 of one whose sympathy was wholly his and on whom 
 his troubled soul could rest. 
 
 The light, already dim when I came in, sputtered 
 and flared for want of oil, leaped up, and so went 
 fairly out. But the pope knew not if it were light or 
 dark and had no thought for anything beyond the 
 weight upon his soul. It pained me beyond measure 
 to see him thus oppressed; and his constant sighing, 
 the chill of the approaching dawn, and the monotonous 
 drip of the rain outside upon the roof, conjoined to 
 weight my spirits almost beyond their strength. I 
 groped about until I found one of Joassaf s hands, and 
 drawing it to me, stroked it to make showing of my 
 sympathy and heart. He did not shrink away as he had 
 done before, but as if too tired to make further struggle
 
 228 The Way of the North 
 
 for it, let the hand lie listlessly in mine. But the kind 
 ness told on him in time, and in the darkness I heard 
 him crying softly to himself. 
 
 "You made the woman go away, did you not, Joas- 
 saf ?" I said, speaking as if no time had elapsed since 
 we had talked before. He was entirely silent, but I 
 felt rather than saw that he nodded an assent. 
 
 "Can you not tell me now about it, Joassaf?" I 
 asked persuasively. "Perhaps it will help to share 
 the thing with someone else." He shook his head 
 and made a hasty murmur of dissent. 
 
 "Try it," I said. "Surely I can be trusted to under 
 stand." 
 
 "Not now!" he cried piteously. "I cannot do it 
 now!" 
 
 "But if you drove the woman out," I persisted, 
 " why are you so distressed ? Her coming might have 
 happened to any man." His excitement at once came 
 back to him and he gripped my hand until I fairly 
 winced. 
 
 "Oh yes! Yes!" he assented breathlessly, "but 
 you do not understand. I will tell you, Fedor, I will 
 try to tell you now, and you will understand you are 
 sure you will understand ? I did send her away, 
 Fedor but at first she would not go ! It was a horror 
 to me, her coming, and I fought against her from the 
 start. Oh, it was dreadful! her coming in the night! 
 And she would not go, Fedor she laughed when I 
 tried to send her away. I was ashamed that you or 
 anyone else should know, and was afraid to make a 
 noise, and so I bore with her and let her wait!" His 
 excitement had swelled to positive frenzy, and he clung 
 convulsively to my hand with both of his.
 
 The Way of the North 229 
 
 "O fool, fool that I was!" he cried in bitterness. "I 
 thought I was strong and she could innocently stay 
 and you would never know." He paused again to 
 gain his breath and brace himself with courage to go 
 on. 
 
 "But I was not strong, Fedor and the woman 
 laughed. I myself do not know how she beguiled me 
 and turned my will aside." His hands let go of mine 
 and went fumbling up along my arms and neck until 
 he got hold of my head. Drawing it down so that my 
 face was close to his, and I could feel his panting breath 
 upon my cheek, he made the effort and went miserably 
 on. 
 
 "Let me tell you, Fedor," he breathed rather than 
 spoke. "Bend down and let me tell you in your ear I 
 did let the woman stay I thought that I was strong 
 and I fought against her oh, I did fight against her, 
 but it was no use ! I do not know what came to me it 
 was like a consuming fire but God forgot me, Fedor, 
 and I sinned! Do you hear me, Fedor?" he said, 
 unconsciously shaking my head to emphasise his words, 
 while his whisper climbed up almost to a shriek. " Do 
 you hear me ? I forgot everything, and I sinned ! " 
 
 So strong was his despair that, the climax reached, 
 he remained a full moment in the same position, con 
 vulsively drawn and set. Then, as the excitement 
 waned, his body relaxed its rigour, his hands dropped 
 limply to his lap, his head fell forward on his breast, 
 and had I not thrown my arm about him he would 
 have slid wholly down upon the floor. But as I had 
 hoped it would be, it was a relief to him to have rid him 
 self by confession of the pitiful burden of his soul, and 
 as the comfort came to him he lay back in my arms with
 
 230 The Way of the North 
 
 a sigh of real relief. He was too much exhausted to 
 say more about it for the time, but with the pathetic 
 wish to save such little shreds of reputation as remained 
 to him, he looked up at me in the gray dawning light 
 and with tears in his eyes added with a wistfulness that 
 touched my heart: "But I did remember after 
 ward Fedor, and I turned her out!"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THERE is a sureness born of blind belief that finds 
 no lodgment in the doubting man. Of my own heresies 
 I have been vainly proud and have long stood com 
 placently above self-accusation because of lapses in 
 religious creed. But as I sat by Joassaf Petrovitch in 
 the pitiful loneliness of his despair, and realised how 
 helpless I and all human creatures were to offer him an 
 adequate relief, I believe I would have bartered my 
 wide freedom for the narrow code of faith, if thereby 
 I could have found the sure conviction in me that the 
 thing to urge upon him was to turn for peace to God. 
 
 But I could not do it. More than once the impulse 
 started in my brain, but through very honesty halted 
 unspoken on my lips. I could not think but it would 
 be a sacrilege if proffered thus by me. 
 
 There is no certainty that he would have found the 
 succour even there, for the waters had gone over him 
 far above his head, and he had small strength or 
 wish to buffet for his life. Confession did its part 
 to bring an easement of the bitter load, and the thing 
 once owned to me, he rested on my sympathy, clinging 
 to me eagerly like a forgiven child, and so became less 
 tragic in his grief. 
 
 The night paled into whiteness while we sat, warmed 
 swiftly to the brighter sallow of the dawn, and in the 
 quick ebb of its withdrawing left us stranded like 
 alien bits of wreckage upon a shore; and through it all 
 
 231
 
 232 The Way of the North 
 
 Joassaf Petrovitch did not stir, but sat in a huddle on his 
 bench and looked out into the future with unseeing 
 eyes. 
 
 I heard the boys stir in the other room and, drawing 
 my hand from his, I went through and warned them 
 against disturbing the priest by heedless venture in. Re 
 plenishing the fire, I put on water and made him a pot 
 of tea. Armed with this anodyne I went back to him 
 again and sat down by his side. 
 
 "Drink this," I said, and handed him the cup. He 
 looked up at me with vacant inquiry as if he had not 
 heard, but he stretched out his hand mechanically and 
 took the proffered drink. It was grateful to him with 
 its warmth and familiar taste, and as its magic began 
 to tingle in his veins even his dejection was not proof 
 against the glow, and he settled himself to a more com 
 fortable position with a sigh of bodily content. 
 
 When he was done I took the cup and set it on one 
 side. Then putting my arm about his shoulders I bent 
 above him as he sat. 
 
 "How is it, Joassaf," I asked gently. "Are you 
 feeling better now?" He shivered slightly, and when 
 he answered the tears were in his eyes. 
 
 "I have no lack for creature comfort," he said sadly. 
 "It is the mind that is not at rest." 
 
 "You are foolish," I replied, "to take the thing 
 so much to heart. It might have come to me or 
 anyone." 
 
 "I wish I could believe it," he said. His hands 
 went out and seized upon me and he strove to choke 
 back a sob. 
 
 "I have no heart to try it," he said thickly. "Oh, 
 Fedor, what are we going to do ? " I was touched, not
 
 The Way of the North 233 
 
 only by the appeal, but by his inclusion of me as a part 
 ner in his guilt. 
 
 "That will depend on you," I said. "Did you think 
 to go away?" He looked up timidly. 
 
 "Would it be right to stay?" 
 
 "Why not?" I answered boldly. "The thing is 
 with us three and not a public tale. So long as it is 
 undiscovered it makes no factor in the choice." A 
 flush of colour came out and spread across his cheeks, 
 and I saw the pathetic dawning of a hope. 
 
 "If I only could!" he said softly as if to himself. I 
 pushed my vantage mercilessly for his relief. 
 
 "After all, your being here is God s work, not yours, 
 and your only choice in the matter would be that he 
 bade you go." My heart was in my mouth lest he 
 should feel the irony of such an argument from me, but 
 the desire to believe was strong within him and he 
 caught at the thought alone. 
 
 "He has not bidden it!" he cried excitedly. "I have 
 had no call to go. God bless you!" he went on tremu 
 lously. "In my darkness you have made for me a 
 way." He paused for a moment and I could see the 
 light come back into his dull eyes. He straightened 
 himself and raised his head with something of his old 
 dignity and power. 
 
 "I understand it now," he said eagerly. "It is not 
 what I do that counts except as between Him and me. 
 I am but the thing in His hand to do with as He will." 
 He was yielding himself to the old influence of posses 
 sion, and I felt we were on firmer ground. 
 
 "Do not think," he went on with fierce humility, 
 "that I forgive myself or would minimise by one 
 hair s-breadth the enormity of my offence. But that
 
 234 The Way of the North 
 
 is one thing and another is what He has given me to do. 
 I shall do it," he promised with conviction "do it 
 until such time as He shall order me to stop; and God 
 helping me there shall be better work in it that for the 
 moment I forgot." 
 
 He did not look at me as he talked, but spoke imper 
 sonally as if in public explanation, and I surmised that 
 what he said was an expression of hope for his own 
 bolstering, more than a declaration of sure belief. 
 
 I did not answer him and he went on incoherently 
 with his discourse, growing more and more absorbed 
 in the one theme, till at some unmarked stage the point 
 of turning came, and he let himself freely go and slipped 
 slowly from the bench down to his knees. With that 
 his courage mounted to his heart, his head dropped 
 upon his hands, and he began with tears and agony to 
 plead his cause with God. 
 
 I knew then that he was in safe hands, and, there 
 being no need for immediate ministration, I got myself 
 up and tiptoed quietly away. I set the boys their meal 
 and turned back our convert maid before she reached 
 the house. My own hunger was not great and was 
 easily appeased. Food for the pope I set aside, and at 
 length when the sun was high, and still he had not 
 come, I went to the door and called him as if for the 
 usual meal. 
 
 To my surprise he came with promptness and with 
 out a word. He was still white and haggard with the 
 strain of his ordeal, but there was composure in his air, 
 and in his face a certain quality of peace. 
 
 I did not question him as he sat down, and the meal 
 passed off almost without a word. When he was done 
 he leaned back in his chair in grateful comfort and let
 
 The Way of the North 235 
 
 himself enjoy the relief that he had found. I waited 
 patiently and in the end he spoke of his own accord. 
 
 "God willing," he said with dignity, "I shall hold 
 service this day here as before. Go about whatever work 
 you have, and I will rest myself till it is time." I 
 thought the matter over quickly, and it seemed a foolish 
 thing to leave him in the house to fret in solitude so 
 long. 
 
 " We are going to the river," I said. " You had better 
 come." 
 
 " No," he said promptly, in strong dissent. 
 
 "It is best, Joassaf," I urged persuasively. "Sooner 
 or later you must go out, and you will be happier when 
 it is done." He threw up his hands with a pathetic 
 gesture of defeat. 
 
 "I will go," he said humbly, and set himself to wait 
 until our preparations were made. But he could not 
 remain still, and after a minute rose and began pacing 
 restlessly up and down the room. The dog barked 
 where it was tied behind the house, and he slipped 
 stealthily out by the back door and went to bend above 
 it with words of interest and love. 
 
 Here he remained until, all things being prepared, 
 I called to him to set out. He came through boldly 
 to the entrance door, but there his courage failed him 
 and he stood for a long panicky moment while his eyes 
 searched with reluctant hesitation the open spaces here 
 and there. Then finding strength, he came rapidly 
 across to where we stood and remained with us as we 
 went on in the way. But he kept close to my side and 
 a little in the rear, and from time to time, like a timid 
 child, I felt him clutch me by the sleeve. 
 
 The way was comparatively clear, except for children
 
 236 The Way of the North 
 
 and old men, and we were half-way through the village 
 before we saw a soul who might make question of our 
 right. But as we came to the turn in the narrow street, 
 a door opened suddenly at our side and two women 
 stepped out into the road. They emerged quietly but 
 abruptly, and seeing us, stopped short in deference 
 to let us pass. 
 
 For me they had a salutation of respect; but as their 
 eyes fell on Joassaf Petrovitch, with one movement 
 their looks turned to each other with quick significance. 
 One spoke in an undertone in the native tongue, and 
 then they both looked again at the pope and mischie- 
 viously laughed aloud. 
 
 At the first glance the pope stopped as if rooted to 
 the spot, and stood with lips pressed together and eyes 
 fixed on vacancy with the air of one trying to recall 
 some weighty thing that has escaped his thought. I 
 saw his cheek whiten as the play progressed, and at 
 the laugh which showed him the thing was out and the 
 exposition of his tragedy at hand, he gave me one look 
 of agony and blind despair, and swinging on his heel, 
 without a word went swiftly back on the road that we 
 had come. 
 
 The women watched him till he disappeared from 
 sight, the humour of their mischief dancing in their 
 eyes. Then, recovering themselves, with a return 
 to their wonted stolidity they passed silently by us 
 and went about their way. 
 
 I stood for some moments uncertain what to do. 
 There was so grave a menace to the pope s peace of 
 mind in the challenge of the women s eyes, that I felt 
 myself grow warm in thinking of it. Yet it was a nice 
 question whether it would show more kindness to follow
 
 The Way of the North 237 
 
 after him and seek him out or leave him for a space of 
 time to his own occupations. 
 
 But my heart was too full for him, to leave wide 
 latitude of choice, and giving to the boys the things 
 I carried, I too turned back and hurried after him. 
 
 I saw naught of him as I reached the door, nor was 
 there a sign of him in any room. I had not thought 
 to find him gone, and for the moment while I looked, 
 a very panic seized me. Calmer judgment counselled 
 that he was not far away, and passing out by the rear 
 door, I came suddenly upon him. 
 
 He had thrown himself on his face upon the ground 
 beside the dog. When I saw him, his head was buried 
 in the animal s shaggy fur and he was crying as if his 
 heart would break. True to its dislike of me, at my 
 approach the dog dragged itself free, rose to its feet in 
 menace and courageously showed its teeth. But it 
 steadily gave ground before my advance, retiring 
 gradually to the extreme end of its tether, at which 
 point of vantage it stood its ground, but punctuated 
 its impliance of distrust with muffled barks of challenge. 
 I stooped to Joassaf Petrovitch and laid my hand upon 
 his arm. 
 
 "Joassaf," I said, "this will never do. The thing 
 has got to be met and you must get up and face it 
 like a man." He made no answer but simply shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Come," I said, and pulled him by the sleeve. He 
 paid no heed and was utterly inert. Then I essayed 
 another way. 
 
 "Joassaf," I suggested, "it is time for the serving 
 woman to come in. Surely you do not want her, 
 knowing, to see you thus distraught." The shaft
 
 238 The Way of the North 
 
 told and he gave a shudder of dissent, and then his hand 
 came out at me with a gesture of repulse. 
 
 "Go!" he said in a stifled voice. "I will come after 
 to the house." I went as he directed, and scarcely had 
 I entered by the rear, when I heard the front door open 
 and close to, and knew that he had made no loss of 
 time in seeking sanctuary. 
 
 I did not disturb him until noon and then only to go 
 in silently and leave him food. All afternoon he made 
 no sound and I, outside, revolved the matter vainly in 
 my mind and strove to find a way to set it right. 
 
 It was not an easy thing to do. The pope had come 
 to where his will had not the strength to be a certain 
 help, and I could see no other way, unless indeed appeal 
 could be addressed to the one among the natives most 
 concerned. In furtherance of this plan I waited, 
 after setting down his evening meal, and ventured once 
 again on speech. 
 
 " Joassaf," I said, "which of the women was it that 
 came in?" The shadows were so deep I could not 
 see his face, and he was so long in answer I feared he 
 would not speak at all. 
 
 "I do not know," he said faintly. "She came and 
 went in the darkness and I could not tell." 
 
 It was the last straw to the load of my distress, and I 
 felt my courage drop down like a stone. I had not 
 known how much I had staked upon this last cast of 
 the die. Without another word, I went back to my 
 place and ate my meal and smoked my pipe in a dead 
 gloominess of despair. Think as I would, there seemed 
 no other way but that the pope must own to his defeat, 
 and leave his work, and go ; and all night long there went 
 as a current in my dreams the wear of heart it would
 
 The Way of the North 239 
 
 cost to start him on the way. By dawn I was as worn 
 a man as he, and when, as happened, the solution 
 came, I scarce had heart to seize and act upon it. 
 
 About two hours before noon, as I sat in the sun 
 shine of the rear door, I heard a sound of shouting that 
 grew louder and drew near. There was a thunderous 
 thumping on our entrance door and then a voice, in 
 Russian, called me by my name. At the same time 
 the pope came hastily out from the room in front and, 
 passing through, shut himself up in the small closet 
 beyond. 
 
 My heart jumped, for I was nervous with the strain, 
 and it is a strange thing in a wilderness to be thus called 
 for in one s native tongue. I got up hastily and passed 
 through the house. The clamour still continued at 
 the door, and opening it abruptly, I came face to face 
 with Peter Nicolaievitch with his arm raised up to 
 strike again upon the wood. He gave a great shout 
 on seeing me, and in another moment we were in each 
 other s arms. 
 
 "So you are yet alive!" he cried joyously and kissed 
 me smartly on both cheeks. "The natives said you 
 were here, but when I did not find you, I feared that 
 they had lied. And the priest," he continued excitedly, 
 "is he still with you and of the same mad mi.nd? By 
 all the rules you should have the whole tribe Christian 
 by this time." I drew him into the house and gave him 
 something both to eat and drink. 
 
 " Joassaf Petrovitch is alive and well," I said. "He 
 is not here just now, but you shall surely see him when 
 he comes." 
 
 "Is he content?" he asked with earnestness. 
 
 He has made forty converts since he came."
 
 240 The Way of the North 
 
 "So," he said absently, looking the room around 
 from wall to wall. "You are not so badly settled 
 in this house." Then with his old drollery he 
 burst out: 
 
 "The shoes! By the shirts of the saints, I had nigh 
 forgot the shoes! Was there any sort of female that 
 could wea^them in this place? 
 
 "Yes," I responded. "But with this reservation 
 that she wears them round her neck." He burst into 
 a roar of laughter, but almost as suddenly came back 
 to gravity again. 
 
 "I had hoped," he said, "the place had palled upon 
 the priest, for the commander is full set to have him 
 back again." I felt my pulse quicken with the hope he 
 held out. 
 
 "Perhaps the thing may be more easy than you 
 think," I said; and then I told him. He did not laugh 
 as I had feared he would, though at the end there was 
 a flash of humour in his eye. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" he said with kindly gravity. "It is 
 always the innocent who find temptation strongest at 
 their heels." Then shaking his head with an impulse 
 of mischievous whimsicality, he added : " God help us 
 simple men!" 
 
 "But you?" I said "what business brings you 
 here?" 
 
 "You and the plague," he answered promptly. 
 "There was no doctor at the post, and when the sick 
 ness fell and men began to die in batches, the whole 
 post yearned so for you that we had to come to bring 
 you back." 
 
 "There has been sickness then?" 
 
 "A hog s share," he answered cheerfully. "Well
 
 The Way of the North 241 
 
 nigh a third of us are dead." I felt myself grow cold 
 with a sudden fear. 
 
 "Were there any among them that I knew?" 
 
 "None but the old lady from the great house itself; 
 but a string of settlers ravelled and let go, and outside 
 the wall the natives died like sheep." 
 
 "I have never seen a great and sudden scourge," I 
 said. "It goes against me that I was not there." 
 
 "Have no such worry," he answered cheerily, "you ll 
 be there yet before the thing is done." I was not alto 
 gether pleased with his assurance that he or Baranof 
 had but to turn and call to me and I would come. 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," I said with coldness. 
 "This missionary work is fairly to my taste." Peter 
 Nicolaievitch laughed aloud. 
 
 "Wait till the commander adds his word," he said. 
 "The invitation does not come from me alone." 
 
 "I shall surely wait," I rejoined stubbornly, "until 
 he brings it to me here himself." He laughed again. 
 
 "Then sweep and garnish things without delay, for 
 he will be here before you have time to smooth youi 
 face." The announcement took me wholly by sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Alexander Andreievitch!" I cried. "He is here?" 
 
 "Yes, I left him doing ceremonies with the native 
 chief; but you will see him here as soon as he can 
 come." I felt my face flush up with the surprise, and 
 for a space I had no word to say. But I pulled myself 
 together that he might not see, and all I said to him in 
 answer was: 
 
 "All right. I shall be ready when he comes." 
 
 But when he came and we were alone together in the 
 room, it was another thing. The composure I had
 
 242 The Way of the North 
 
 thought to show him melted like mist beneath the keen 
 glance of his searching eyes, and I stood before him as 
 confused as any boy. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch," he said coldly, "you have made 
 me a long journey because you were quick to take 
 offence." It was a new thought to me that I and not 
 he was in the wrong in that which had been done, and 
 his assumption took away my breath. 
 
 "For God s sake!" I cried, "what more did you 
 expect me to wait for at your hand ?" 
 
 "At my hand!" he echoed. "At my hand! There 
 is the whole keynote to the mistake. Because I, per 
 sonally, make you an affront, you shut your eyes to all 
 that calls you in your world and run away because you 
 cannot live with me. Did I not tell you when you 
 came to Alaska," he went on sternly, "that it is not I 
 or any other man, but just the Company that counts ? 
 When I had you punished I was drunk; and that fact 
 took away the right from you to hold me for it, except 
 personally as a man. Alexander Andreievitch drunk 
 and Alexander Andreievitch sober are two different 
 things. It is only when I am myself that I am com 
 mander of the post." 
 
 "But how could I know " I began angrily, but 
 
 he broke in upon my words. 
 
 "Why did you not wait to see?" he demanded. 
 "And then you would have known. There is no man 
 at the post that can say that afterward, when sober, 
 I have failed to make good to him the smallest wrong 
 I did to him while drunk. But you you were hot 
 headed, and you could not wait. You went away 
 without a thought of any but yourself, and left to chance 
 the men and women whose very lives depended on youi
 
 The Way of the North 243 
 
 skill. But I tell you, man," lie cried, and his voice 
 rose so that he fairly thundered through the words, "in 
 your position the going was a wrong a crime a thing 
 so grievous men have died of it!" 
 
 "There were none sick to need me when I went 
 away," I retorted sullenly, "and you yourself in my 
 place would have shrunk to stay and face that evil- 
 thinking crowd." 
 
 "Not so fast," he said more quietly. "Let us think 
 this matter out. You have had lashes on your back 
 that I have no doubt stung most bitterly both your body 
 and your pride. But what about me who had to face 
 this same crowd with your mark upon my face ? You 
 are a hard hitter, Fedor Kirilovitch, and I assure you 
 the colour of it did not vanish in a day. And yet I did 
 not go away; and further, do you think it an easy thing 
 for me to lay aside my pride and make this journey 
 here to follow you ? If I had been of your sort I would 
 have let the whole post rot before attempting it. But 
 my people needed you and I need you, and so I laid 
 aside my own dislike and made the pilgrimage to ask 
 you to come back." His face had softened as he went 
 along, and when he finished he was speaking gently 
 and there was a look of honest kindness in his eyes. I 
 had been disconcerted by his earnestness and by the 
 unusual view of the matter that he took, but in spite 
 of my irritation my heart warmed toward him for the 
 greatness of his soul. 
 
 "I had not thought of it as you put it," I said con 
 fusedly. "I will take a little time to think about it, 
 but you can depend upon me to do what is right." He 
 looked at me still more kindly and his voice took on an 
 almost pleading tone.
 
 244 The Wa y o f the North 
 
 "Decide it now," he said with much earnestness. 
 "What is there to be gained by taking time?" He 
 leaned across the table as he spoke and laid his hand 
 on mine. 
 
 "Let me add one more word," he said, "and this 
 time not as the commander but as a man. When you 
 first came to Sitka, you were sent to me as one whom I 
 could welcome and depend upon as a son. I loved you 
 when I first saw you, for your father s sake, and you 
 will look far into my treatment of you to find anything 
 that was not fair, until that last unfortunate mistake 
 and that occurred because you took me when I was not 
 myself. I am determined to be plain with you, and it 
 is a measure of my esteem that I forget my pride and 
 talk to you in this way of these things." He paused 
 for a moment, and it was plain to see that it was not 
 easy for him to speak, although he had made up his 
 mind. 
 
 "It is a weakness," he went on hesitatingly, "that I 
 should ever drink too much; but, God knows, the 
 provocation for me is not small I It is thirty years that 
 I have lived here in this barren place. Yet you who 
 have lived here only these few months can bear me 
 witness how void the life is of everything that makes 
 men want to live. There are times when the black 
 despair so settles on me that I would almost rather die 
 than try to fight. In the best of times it is only the 
 work that makes it worth while to go on. When that 
 fails, the liquor helps me, and sometimes I go too far. 
 But drunk or sober, there has been no time that my 
 heart has not gone out to you as if you were my own 
 son. I held no malice toward you, once I was myself. 
 The blow was one I might have struck, if I that night
 
 The Way of the North 245 
 
 had been in your place, and there I am willing to make 
 an end of it. I need you personally and in the work, 
 and I beg you, both to come back with me freely to the 
 post, and to forgive me in your heart as if you truly were 
 my son." 
 
 There was ever in Alexander Baranof the silver qual 
 ity of speech that won the unwilling over to his wish. 
 I do not easily forget a wrong; but as he took me to his 
 confidence and thus laid bare to me his heart, involun 
 tarily, I felt my grievance slipping from me as he 
 talked and the spirit moved me strongly to go as he 
 desired. Besides, the thing he asked for fitted wholly 
 to my plan, and making virtue of my heart s desire, I 
 rose and said to him: 
 
 "I am content to lose no time in answer. If you 
 wish it I will go."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE detail of departure occupied small time. The 
 choice once made, I set about the task of making ready 
 with almost feverish haste. My first anxiety had been 
 about the pope, and in a few words I told to Baranof 
 the story of his fall. 
 
 "I had heard something of it from the chief," he 
 said gravely. "The priest is more honest than I 
 thought." 
 
 "He must come with us. I could not think to go 
 and leave him here alone." 
 
 "He will not stay," said Baranof, with strong de 
 cision. "But if worse comes to worst, mine is the 
 stronger power." 
 
 He was shrewdly right about Joassaf Petrovitch s 
 state of mind. To my surprise he made no strong 
 objection, but seized upon the going quite as a relief. 
 His sole insistence was that he might take with him 
 his dog. To this the commander consented with a shrug. 
 
 "I have gone too far in owning what I want," he 
 said, "to haggle now about a kopeck in the price. But 
 what bond of sympathy has grown between the man 
 and beast that he should stand so strongly against its 
 loss?" 
 
 "This," I returned, "that the beast, among his con 
 verts, is the only one whose eye he can now look into 
 without dread. From the dog he can accept affection 
 and know it is for himself alone." 
 
 246
 
 The Way of the North 247 
 
 Before we went, however, I found the opportunity to 
 tell to Baranof all that I knew concerning the visit of 
 the messengers of the rival company and the compact 
 with the chief that they had made. He roared like a 
 baited animal and got excitedly to his feet. 
 
 "You are sure?" he cried. 
 
 "I saw the parchment and the presents that they 
 gave." 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed indignantly, "I will go and see 
 Shakmut myself. He did not tell me this before." 
 The interview must have been a stormy one; for when 
 Baranof returned he had the paper, and Shakmut 
 walked behind him responding to his every look like 
 a whipped dog. The commander was still grim, but 
 his anger had given way to triumphant satisfaction. 
 
 "You were right," he said quietly. "I have the 
 written proof. It was a long journey to this place, 
 but I would forgive you for making me take it for 
 this, if for no other reason, that the knowledge of 
 Lebedef s treachery is so essential to my own success. 
 It might have passed me if I had not come." 
 
 The house was soon dismantled and our goods 
 within the packs. An hour sufficed to clear the place 
 and in another we were on the road. Had there been 
 need to wake up in me a hatred for the life that we 
 had led, it came with the first move toward getting 
 back to my own kind. I never knew before how 
 sweet a bare companionship could be, though perhaps 
 the thrill was greater that the future held for me the 
 promise of a warmer welcome from a woman s face 
 and hand. 
 
 However that might be, I found no rest till we were 
 on the way. I cannot now remember that I once
 
 248 The Way of the North 
 
 looked backward at the house in leaving it. But so 
 far as expression goes, among the natives there was as 
 little of regret. They watched us from a distance but 
 made no move to help us with our work. And when 
 we went, all but a few remained phlegmatically aloof 
 and made no show either of kindly or unkindly mind. 
 
 Of them all there was but one who nursed a real 
 grief. The serving-maid was frankly troubled and 
 found our going very near her heart. She followed us 
 about while we made ready, with sad and wistful eyes; 
 and dumbly made it plain her soul found pain in our 
 abandonment. But that we sent her back she would 
 have followed us, and the last thing we saw as we went 
 up the hill was her drooping figure standing in the way, 
 at watch to see us to the very end. 
 
 Yet of the journey there is little to relate. Beyond 
 two happenings that it brought to me, it had no features 
 different from the first. One of these incidents was the 
 talk I had with Peter Nicolaievitch as we walked there 
 in the woods; and the second came as a surprise to me 
 when we were in the boat. 
 
 It is not unnatural, too, that I should have yearned 
 for fuller tidings of Anna Gregorovna and the people 
 of her life; but so far, the presence of the commander 
 and the hurry of the start had stood between me and 
 the goal of my desire. But when the haste was over 
 and we were strung out in the forest in the slow plodding 
 of the way, I found my chance to question Peter 
 Nicolaievitch on the things that were in my mind. 
 
 "Alexei Yegorovitch ? " he said in answer. "He is 
 alive and fairly well. He still has trouble with his 
 throat, but I keep him in at night and with the brandy 
 he comes on fairly well."
 
 The Way of the North 249 
 
 "Then he is with you in the barracks still?" Peter 
 Nicolaievitch looked at me out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 "He is not married yet," he said cautiously, "if that 
 is what you mean." It was the news I had most hoped 
 to hear, but somehow when it came, the vagueness of it 
 failed to bring me peace. 
 
 "Why has it been delayed?" I said, hiding my 
 discomposure as fully as I might. He was not quick 
 to answer, and when he did it was with a shrug that 
 shifted all responsibility. 
 
 "Because he is a fool," he said shortly, "and is not 
 certain what he wants." 
 
 "Then the lady is still willing ?" He gave a sardonic 
 laugh. 
 
 "The lady!" he repeated. "Both ladies. The 
 man s liking for them is of such equal strength he cannot 
 find the heart for giving either up." 
 
 "But surely Anna Gregorovna does not know 
 
 "That is true," he admitted, "though she might if 
 she had any eyes." 
 
 "Is it then a thing of general report?" 
 
 "No. Alexei is too careful in the main. But it is 
 certain the commander understands." 
 
 "How do you know?** 
 
 "Wellj from his air and look when Alexei and 
 Marfa are together in a place; and he has warned the 
 young man that no trespassing will be allowed." 
 
 "Are you sure that this is so?" I demanded ex 
 citedly. 
 
 "Yes," said Peter Nicolaievitch positively, "and in 
 doing it Alexander Andreievitch upset the fat altogether 
 into the fire. Alexei had turned back to his first love 
 again and would have married her if let alone. But
 
 250 The Way of the North 
 
 when the commander told him he must stick to her 
 and let the other go, he was sure he wanted Marfa 
 more than he ever had before." 
 
 "And what will be the outcome, do you think?" I 
 ventured. 
 
 "Trouble, my son," he declared lightly. "But for 
 whom, as yet, the good God has not made it entirely 
 plain." 
 
 "But what do you think 
 
 "I don t think," he interrupted with impatience. 
 "I am fond of the whole lot and do not want to think. 
 I shall be mourner at the burial of whichever of them 
 comes to grief." 
 
 He quickened his pace as he finished with his speech 
 and, forging ahead, began to chat with the man in 
 front of me. I saw that the subject was distasteful to 
 him and made no further effort to draw him out. But 
 the matter lingered with me till it became a steady 
 undercurrent in my thoughts. 
 
 I found the knowledge helpful, too, in meeting, later, 
 the confidence that came to me from Baranof. The 
 commander was not a man generous in demonstration, 
 but from the moment of my giving in, in allegiance to his 
 plan, there was a something in his manner that made 
 me feel he always had my interest at heart. But with 
 it, too, I came to have the belief that there was something 
 that he wished to say to me, and for which he felt the 
 time was not yet wholly ripe. 
 
 It was not till the last day when we were together in 
 the stern of the great boat that it came to him to speak. 
 We had been silent for some time, and when he spoke 
 it was in abrupt break of the topic that had gone before. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch," he said, lowering his voice so
 
 The Way of the North 251 
 
 that the natives near us could not hear, "there are 
 certain things that must be told you before you get to 
 land. You will remember that when we talked back 
 yonder in the hut, I said to you that I myself had need 
 of you as well as the people of the post. I have waited 
 until this time to tell you in what way, because I 
 wanted you to make decision without thought of 
 me; and until you did so, I could not ask you to 
 be active in my personal affairs." He stopped for a 
 moment as if uncertain how best to begin. Then 
 turning on me the full glance of his compelling eyes, 
 he said abruptly: 
 
 "You know that I have a daughter." 
 
 "Yes," I said. 
 
 "I am in trouble about her," he continued. "She is 
 not rightly well, and I do not know what to do." The 
 news stirred me to immediate interest, not only because 
 I had a warm remembrance of Marfa Alexandrovna as 
 a kindly friend, but also because I thought perhaps I 
 had some inkling of the cause from which her sickness 
 came. 
 
 "I am sorry indeed to hear it," I replied. "Is it the 
 prevailing illness, like the rest?" 
 
 "No, it is not that, though she has given much time 
 to the nursing of the sick. Her ailment runs less to the 
 body than to the mind." 
 
 "How does it act?" I said, though I guessed the 
 truth and could have told the symptoms as I spoke. 
 
 " I cannot fully say," he said with hesitation. " But 
 she has lost her lightness and is moody and distressed, 
 and I can see her growing thinner every day. It is 
 perhaps because I can see no sure disease," he added 
 vaguely, "that I find cause to be so much disturbed."
 
 252 The Way of the North 
 
 In my heart I pitied him, but for all that I could not 
 keep a question from my lips. 
 
 "Has she perchance had trouble of some sort that 
 might have served to bring to her unrest ? " He looked 
 at me with a quick glance of suspicion and surprise, 
 and waited for a moment before making a reply. 
 
 "To some extent, perhaps," he answered slowly, and 
 then paused. I made no sign to interrupt him and, 
 after turning the matter in his mind, he went on with 
 a deprecatory shrug. 
 
 "I must be frank in the matter with you, I suppose, 
 if you are to undertake a cure. There has been no 
 trouble otherwise than this. Marfa Ekaterina became 
 interested in a man to whom I would have been glad 
 to have her go. I found him dallying and inclined to 
 wait, and loath to give her certain promise of his plans. 
 I did not say he should not have the girl, but I made it 
 clear to him that he must make up his mind. What 
 good has come of it I do not know; but I suspect the 
 thing is near her heart." He stopped abruptly and I 
 saw that he was through. 
 
 "It is enough," I said, "to answer for her state; but 
 such a sickness rarely comes to kill. How long it still 
 will go I cannot say until I see the girl ; but be assured, 
 once we are ashore, I will look into it." 
 
 "Good!" he said with a quick look of pleasure. 
 "And whatever the outcome I will not forget. And 
 now," he went on, "as to the other thing concerning 
 which I wish to speak. It is a weightier charge and 
 one that touches both the Company and me. You will 
 remember that even when you first arrived in Sitka I 
 was disturbed about the settlement that Lebedef had 
 built above up on the Sound. His people were insolent
 
 The Way of the North 253 
 
 then, and I have found them growing bolder every day. 
 Scarcely a trapper or hunter of us has been spared, and 
 within a month they have come down to the river and 
 taken a cache of fish. You yourself have brought me 
 word of their treachery here. But worst of all, I have 
 one of them firmly inside my walls. They know our 
 plans as they could never else, and almost daily I have 
 missed things from my private desk." His face 
 darkened and he set his teeth with rage. 
 
 "I cannot reach them!" he cried helplessly. "The 
 devils know and watch me, and besides myself there 
 is no one I can surely trust. But enough of that," he 
 continued, swallowing his rage and turning again to me. 
 "It is in this, Fedor Kirilovitch, that you can heJp me if 
 you will. I can make talk of that which will certainly set 
 them on. There will be no knowledge of your coming 
 back, and the trap rightly set, I have the thought you 
 might surprise them." I have small patience with a 
 waiting part. It frets my soul to sit and trust to 
 chance to come to me. But there was that in Alexander 
 Andreievitch s persuasive talk that set the ordinary 
 scruples far behind, and led by the answering tingle 
 in my pulse I took short time in falling in upon his 
 mood. 
 
 "I will do it if you think it best," I said impulsively. 
 "But knowing that you sent for me, shall not I too be 
 watched?" 
 
 "I was sure that you would help me," he said quietly. 
 "So sure, the thing is all arranged. They do not know 
 that I have sent for you and they will not find that you 
 have come." 
 
 Three hours from Sitka there was a trapper s post. 
 It was a landing only and a few scattered huts, but
 
 254 The Way of the North 
 
 by the shore there was a great stack of rough dried 
 skins brought down for us to carry to the warehouse at 
 the post. 
 
 I saw more plainly then what Baranof had planned 
 to do. By his command I went ashore with him, and 
 leaving Peter Nicolaievitch in charge of the counting 
 and embarking of the pelts, he set out with me for the 
 homeward run in another and a smaller boat. He 
 trusted the discretion of no other man, but took the oar 
 and paddled the skin vessel for himself. 
 
 "It will be a day at least," he said, "before they can 
 come in, and for that time our opportunity is laid." 
 
 The saints were with us when we went ashore. A 
 mist had fallen and the moon was young and scarcely 
 gave a light. The beach was empty, and only once 
 were we put to flight by meeting anyone upon the 
 way. At the great door I waited while Alexander 
 Andreievitch reconnoitred silently within. Then at 
 his touch I followed him noiselessly through the dark 
 ness of the great hallway and across the larger room, 
 and so came to the alcove where he had his private 
 place. 
 
 "Wait here," he said, and pushed me into a smaller 
 space beyond, of which till now I had never taken note. 
 I heard a door shut to upon me, and Baranof s retreating 
 steps. Then there was a noise as he banged heavily 
 the great door in pretence of new coming in, and I 
 heard his step go up the staircase to the floor above. 
 Almost immediately he came back, accompanied by a 
 woman with a lamp. He sat down at the desk and 
 told the woman where to place the light. 
 
 " I shall be busy writing for an hour," he said. " You 
 had better bring me my supper here." The woman
 
 The Way of the North 255 
 
 made a courtesy in assent and then went quietly 
 away. 
 
 Baranof waited till she was out of sight, then rose and 
 came across to me. I was in a large closet or clothes- 
 room built into the wall. The door, as is usual in such 
 places, was constructed in two parts, so that while the 
 lower section was closed to, the upper might remain 
 ajar and thus let in the air. A dusty curtain drawn 
 across the top served to conceal my head; and yet with 
 caution as I stood behind, I could command most of the 
 room without, while in the shadow I remained unseen. 
 Baranof brought me in a chair and made me com 
 fortable as might be. 
 
 "After dinner you may smoke," he said, "af you are 
 careful not to show a light. There is the smell of 
 tobacco always in these rooms." 
 
 We divided the meal between us like two boys, and 
 Alexander Andreievitch was in high good-humour at 
 the prospect of success. He talked and lingered under 
 the pretence of his work, until the evening was all 
 but passed, and it was not till the lights were out and 
 he was gone that the greatness of the task before me 
 began to weigh upon my mind. 
 
 There is no silence for the man who is alone. The 
 night provides the stimulus to stir each nervous sense 
 in turn, and waiting in the darkness, a hundred times 
 strange noises made me sure that what I looked for 
 was about to come. I listened breathless over and 
 again and braced myself for some strange happening; 
 but each alarm went by with promise unfulfilled, and 
 with them all no single thing occurred. 
 
 When the real crisis came it was in a way all foreign 
 to my thought. It must have been within an hour of
 
 256 The Way of the North 
 
 twelve when I became conscious of a rhythmic move 
 ment overhead, as of some one walking on the floor 
 above. At first I listened to it with attcnt and waited 
 eagerly what things should come of it. But the noise 
 went on and on in tireless iteration until it became 
 unconsciously a habit in my thought and I no longer 
 remained clearly conscious of -it. 
 
 When I did remember it again, it was with the sudden 
 certainty that it had stopped there up above; and 
 listening for it I heard the pattering echo coming from 
 the stairs. It came down confidently to the lower hall 
 and in its nearness sounded more distinct. My heart 
 began to jump with excitement, and I held my breath 
 lest by some ill-timed move I should fright away 
 success. 
 
 The suspense was over in a moment, for almost at 
 once the shadows began to dance across the floor, there 
 was a rustle of garments in the doorway, and a woman 
 carrying a lamp came hurriedly into the room. 
 
 She did not seem like one afraid of watching, but 
 walked boldly, though without extra noise. Turning, 
 she swung to the door but did not latch it, and then 
 crossing the room set down the lamp on one of the 
 little tables near the western wall. 
 
 Beyond the table was a window, its shutters fastened 
 like the rest. These she undid, and set the boards 
 apart, for just a moment standing to look out into the 
 night. Then she turned back into the room and, 
 throwing back the wrap that was about her head, gave 
 me the first clear vision of her face. It was Marfa 
 Alexandrovna, and going to the table she moved the 
 lamp so that its light would fall across the narrow 
 opening in the shutters she had made. After listening
 
 The Way of the North 257 
 
 intently for a moment she turned away from the place 
 and began to walk nervously up and down the room. 
 
 I followed her intently while my head went round. 
 Her coming was a shock to me, both because I could not 
 believe it was she whom I had been set to watch, and 
 because the creature I saw before me was such a 
 pitiable travesty of the woman as I had seen her last. 
 
 She was thin almost to emaciation and sunken about 
 the eyes. She held herself with her old pride of 
 carriage, but there was slowness of movement even in 
 her poise as if she had lost the elasticity of youth. 
 Perhaps the most striking change showed in her face, 
 which even in the dim light was altered from her old 
 habit of animated interest to an air of settled melan 
 choly and calm. It took no vigorous effort of the mind 
 to bring the certainty how strongly grief had worked 
 upon her health, and while the thing was painful to the 
 heart, I was glad to have the chance to study her un 
 observed. 
 
 But as I watched her she stopped suddenly where 
 she walked, and bent her head toward the door as if she 
 caught some sound that had not come to me. Evidently 
 it was an interruption she did not expect, for she tiptoed 
 silently over to the doorway and stood with her fingers 
 on her lips listening as if in doubt. 
 
 I, too, now caught the sound and made certain that 
 some one was coming down the stairs. Marfa Alex- 
 androvna remained where she was till the door opened 
 and made no effort to conceal herself or escape. It is 
 probable she recognised a familiar sound in the ap 
 proaching step, for after the first stir of the surprise she 
 did not appear disturbed, and when the intruder 
 entered she remained quietly looking at her and did not
 
 258 The Way of the North 
 
 say a word. I think perhaps I was more disturbed 
 than she. My heart thumped against my ribs and I 
 felt my pulses leap within my veins, for I recognised 
 the new-comer as she did and saw that it was Anna 
 Gregorovna who had come in. 
 
 She was dressed in a loose habit for the night, and her 
 hair hung down about her neck. She had some sort 
 of knitted shoes upon her feet, and a shawl was drawn 
 about her shoulders as a guard against the cooler 
 evening air. She went straight to Marfa Alexandrovna 
 and took hold of her with both hands. 
 
 "Is it another sleepless night, dear?" she said with 
 kind solicitude. "I heard you walking and found no 
 peace till I had come." The Creole did not repulse her 
 though she showed small satisfaction in the proffered 
 help. 
 
 "I am sorry I disturbed you," she answered slowly. 
 "I had no idea you were awake." 
 
 "There was no trouble in it," returned Anna Grego 
 rovna quickly, "except in that it made me sad for 
 you. But come," she said, and drew the Creole with 
 her to a seat near the commander s desk. "You must 
 not w r alk here by yourself. Sit down comfortably and 
 talk with me and perhaps the thing will pass." Marfa 
 Alexandrovna gave a quick look at the lamp and 
 shutter and so round the room; but she did not resist, 
 and seated herself on the bench without question or 
 reply. Anna Gregorovna sat down beside her and 
 took her hand in both of hers. 
 
 " What is it, Marfa ? " she said entreatingly. " What 
 is it that hangs so heavy on your mind ? " 
 
 "It is no weight," returned the Creole passively. "It 
 is simply that I am not well."
 
 The Way of the North 259 
 
 "No," persisted the other, "there is something more 
 than that. Tell me what it is, dear. It will help you 
 just to share the thing with some one else." Marfa 
 Alexandrovna did not at once reply. Her eye wandered 
 stealthily to the open window and then came back to 
 Anna Gregorovna s face in ironical dismay. 
 
 "It is not always safe to ask for confidences," she 
 said slowly. "The sharing is a tax upon the heart, and 
 I would not want to make you as unhappy as I myself 
 am now." Anna Gregorovna drew the Creole to her and 
 held her closer while she spoke. 
 
 "You have been so good to me," she said simply, 
 "that I cannot but be unhappy when things go wrong 
 with you. Tell me if you can, and if it makes it easier 
 for you I shall not mind the pain." Marfa Alex- 
 androvna s eyes filled with tears and she bent and 
 kissed her companion on the hair. 
 
 "I will not spoil your happiness," she said absentfy. 
 Then recollecting herself, she turned on Anna Grego 
 rovna with a sudden question. 
 
 "Anna, you are really happy, are you not?" The 
 girl looked up at her in some surprise. 
 
 "Why, yes," she said, "except as I am worried 
 about you." 
 
 "But you have health and hope and a promise to 
 look forward to," continued the Creole almost fiercely. 
 "The promise of a lover " she hesitated a moment 
 before finishing the phrase "a lover who has told 
 you you were dearer to him than all the world." Anna 
 Gregorovna looked at her as if she did not understand. 
 
 "What would come to you," went on Marfa Alex 
 androvna, without waiting for a reply, "if after having 
 had these things they should suddenly be swept away ? "
 
 260 The Way of the North 
 
 "I cannot think it," said Anna Gregorovna quickly. 
 " But surely it is not so bad with you as that ? " Marfa 
 Alexandrovna laughed nervously and slowly shook her 
 head. 
 
 "Oh, no! it is not all gone. But I lack so much that 
 you and other women have that the world has a taste of 
 bitter to my mouth." 
 
 "I do not understand. Your father is good to you 
 and loves you, and so far as I can see there is not a man 
 in the post but would make you the dear promises like 
 mine, if only he could think that you would care." 
 
 "No, not a man," repeated Marfa Alexandrovna 
 scornfully. "And not one of them with the courage 
 to keep the promise after it is made." Anna Grego 
 rovna gave a cry of protest. 
 
 "You are not just," she said impetuously. "Not all 
 men who make promises to women break them in that 
 way." 
 
 "You mean when they are made to women like you," 
 said Marfa Alexandrovna drearily. "But I am dif 
 ferent, and it is not the same. Do you not know that 
 I am a Creole and only in part of Russian blood?" 
 She pushed Anna Gregorovna from her and sat up bolt 
 erect. 
 
 "Oh, the shame of it!" she cried, her lips trembling 
 with her scorn. " My mother was a good woman and 
 honest, but because her blood was of a different sort, I 
 must be declared a thing apart. I can love and be 
 loved like other women. But there at the edge of 
 happiness the division comes, and no man of my father s 
 race can take me to him honestly according to the law!" 
 Anna Gregorovna made no effort to draw her down 
 again, but looked at her with sympathetic eyes.
 
 The Way of the North 261 
 
 "Surely," she said, "the man who loves you is not 
 base enough to scorn you for your Indian blood." 
 Marfa s face changed and with a shamefaced look at 
 Anna Gregorovna she let her eyes drop to the floor. 
 
 "I was wrong to say he was not true," she said 
 softly. "There were other things besides. He loves 
 me. I am sure of it, and if I would go to him he would 
 take me as I am." 
 
 "Then why do you feel so bitterly about it all?" 
 The perversion born of her long brooding on the affair, 
 or else some strange distortion of her mind, held 
 Marfa Alexandrovna as if in fascination to the 
 further dissection of her feelings with the woman 
 she had wronged. 
 
 "Because it is not right that I should go. Would 
 you marry the man you loved if you thought it would 
 bring him shame ? If it were to be here always in this 
 land I would not wait until to-morrow night. But 
 he is a young man and I believe will rise. And what 
 would happen when he was called back across the seas ? 
 You know how they would look upon me there; and even 
 if I did not lose his love, could I bear it, do you think, 
 to know that I was a drag upon his life? Oh!" she 
 cried, throwing out both hands with a gesture of 
 disgust, "I am sick of the whole thing!" Anna 
 Gregorovna moved swiftly over and put both arms 
 about Marfa Alexandrovna s neck. 
 
 "Forgive me," she said entreatingly. "I think I 
 understand it now. When I think how much more has 
 come to me than to you I am ashamed that it is mine. 
 Believe me, if I could I would give you a full share in all 
 my happiness." With a sibilant indrawing of the 
 breath Marfa Alexandrovna pushed her sharply back.
 
 262 The Way of the North 
 
 "I want a part of no man s love," she said fiercely. 
 " I will have everything or none at all ! " 
 
 "And yet when one has offered all of it you say you 
 are going to give him up." The Creole s face flushed, 
 and I could see that the strain was wearing on her self- 
 control. 
 
 "I do not know," she said coolly. "I have not yet 
 made up my mind." 
 
 "But," said Anna Gregorovna, "you yourself have 
 told me that he cannot marry you under the law." 
 The Creole laughed and threw out her hands with the 
 same gesture of contemptuous despair. 
 
 "What do I owe the law," she said bitterly, "that I 
 should set aside my happiness at its demand ! " 
 
 "But, Marfa!" Anna gasped in horror. "You do 
 not mean " 
 
 "I do not know what I mean," returned the other 
 dully. "Perhaps I am not sure that I can trust my 
 self." 
 
 "Oh! Oh!" cried the younger girl. "You could 
 not! I cannot believe it!" Marfa Alexandrovna 
 shrugged her shoulders and looked Anna Gregorovna 
 defiantly in the face. 
 
 "It is my happiness," she said doggedly and turned 
 herself away. Anna Gregorovna was beside her in a 
 moment. 
 
 "Tell me you do not mean it!" she entreated. "I 
 cannot believe that you have ever done an evil thing." 
 Marfa Alexandrovna looked down at her for some 
 moments as if debating with herself how far she might 
 dare to go, 
 
 "I am glad of your good opinion," she said slowly, 
 "but I am no more perfect than the rest."
 
 The Way of the North 263 
 
 Then, with an abruptness that was like her father s, 
 she addressed herself to the younger girl, speaking 
 faster and with an evident desire to impress. 
 
 "What if I should tell you," she said, "that I de 
 ceived you to-night when I let you think that I was 
 here alone because I could not sleep. What if I 
 should say that I came as I have come before to 
 meet the man who has my happiness in his hand and 
 that I am to see him here to-night ? " 
 
 Anna Gregorovna heard her through with a surprise 
 that held her rooted to her place. She sat like one 
 bewildered and there could be read upon her face 
 incredulity that slowly changed to the pain of full belief. 
 The tears came into her eyes, and when she spoke it was 
 with a troubled entreaty as if she were pleading with 
 a wilful child. 
 
 "Marfa," she said and her voice was almost a 
 whisper "tell me you have not yet Her 
 
 own eyes fell, but Marfa Alexandrovna s did not waver 
 in their honest gaze. 
 
 "No," said the Creole simply, "not yet. I told you I 
 had not made up my mind." 
 
 While they spoke a clock somewhere in the house 
 struck sharply, and went booming slowly on its way to 
 twelve. The sound startled Marfa Alexandrovna into 
 activity, and she got quickly to her feet. 
 
 "Go," she cried hurriedly. "He will be here now 
 before you are upstairs." She pushed Anna Gregor 
 ovna to the door as if to help her to a quicker going, 
 but the girl hung back and made an attempt to speak. 
 
 "No! No!" she gasped, "you must not meet with 
 him to-night. You are not yourself, and I will not go 
 and leave you here alone."
 
 264 The Way of the North 
 
 "You must," commanded Marfa Alexandrovna. 
 "I will not have you here. You have no choice!" 
 
 "I will not," cried the other stubbornly. "If I did 
 I could not answer to myself or God." Marfa Alex- 
 androvna s excitement grew from nervousness to quick 
 alarm. She looked from Anna Gregorovna to the 
 window as if under a spell, and from commanding 
 came down humbly to plead. 
 
 "Anna," she begged, "there is no time to show you 
 how important it is that I should meet him here alone. 
 There is no danger for me in being with him now. I 
 will promise you anything if you will only go. To 
 morrow some time I will tell you all. If you have 
 any love or care for me," she went on wildly, wringing 
 her hands and speaking so fast that the words fell over 
 each other in her haste, "if you have any thought for 
 your own happiness or self-respect, you will go at once 
 without question, and leave me here alone to meet with 
 him to-night." 
 
 Anna Gregorovna was plainly stirred by the appeal, 
 but she shook her head mournfully and made no move 
 to go. She began to cry softly to herself, and her whole 
 body shook as if with sudden chill. 
 
 " I must not," she cried with decision. " I have made 
 up my mind. I will not leave you here with him alone ! " 
 
 There was a sudden gasp from Marfa Alexandrovna 
 and I saw the shutter move. Like a miracle, the 
 tension of the crisis brought back her self-control; and 
 with a stoical shrug of the shoulders she came back to 
 her usual calm. 
 
 "Too late!" she said quietly; and then turning to 
 the girl, "stay if you will; but remember that I warned 
 you and your blood be on your own head ! "
 
 The Way of the North 265 
 
 Neither one spoke again, and I watched with ab 
 sorbing interest the opening of the blind. It was only 
 for a moment, for almost immediately behind the 
 shutter appeared the figure of a man as he came 
 lightly across the sill. He made absolutely no noise, 
 but once in the room the light blinded him for the instant 
 and he stood shading his eyes with his hand and 
 looking under it around the place. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna recognised him as I did, and gave 
 a stifled cry of horror and alarm. It was Alexei 
 Yegorovitch, as I had expected, and as I looked back 
 from him to her I saw that Marfa Alexandrovna had 
 taken her advantage and fled from the apartment, and 
 that Alexei Yegorovitch and Anna Gregorovna stood 
 facing each other there alone.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THERE is a point in anguish that is outside of speech, 
 and in the shock of their strange meeting both Alexei 
 Yegorovitch and Anna Gregorovna compassed it. 
 With him there was the realisation that the frame of 
 falsehoods he had for months been building up was 
 in the moment shaken down about his feet. With her 
 the swift out-running of the whole spring flood of hope 
 and happiness that for so long had been buoying up 
 her life. 
 
 After the first look of open-mouthed amaze the man 
 gave backward toward the window and in his face 
 the red spread upward like a flame. Anna Gregorovna 
 was too stirred to move, but stood where she had been, 
 with her head forward and her eyes fixed on him with 
 a steady stare of astonishment and unbelief. 
 
 "Is it you, Alexei?" she said, and her voice had in it 
 as much of anger as of grief. "Is it really you?" 
 
 He did not answer and hung down his head. She 
 swayed dizzily in her place and, chancing on a chair, 
 drew it to her mechanically and sat down. For a 
 space that seemed interminable she remained looking 
 at him with the same intent gaze of grievous challenge, 
 until at length the full truth came to her how she had 
 been betrayed; and, shivering slightly, she covered her 
 face with her hands and began to cry softly to herself. 
 
 The discomfiture of Alexei Yegorovitch was still 
 too great to trust itself to words. In the beginning he 
 
 266
 
 The Way of the North 267 
 
 had braced himself in anticipation of an outburst from 
 Anna Gregorovna of bitterness and wrath; and when 
 none came he found within him no weapon fitted to 
 defend him against the gentle helplessness of her 
 despair. 
 
 He stood his ground to give her chance for accusa 
 tion; but when she hid her face and did not seem to 
 wish to challenge him, he changed his mind and, turning, 
 made as if he would again go out by the way that he 
 had come. But Anna Gregorovna was not thus 
 content to see him go. The meagre noise he made in 
 moving rallied her, and she raised up her head. 
 
 "Wait," she commanded, and beckoned with her 
 hand. He obeyed her meekly arid came back to her 
 again in the ring of brighter light. 
 
 "Is it true, Alexei," she said searchingly, "that it 
 was to meet with Marfa Alexandrovna that you came 
 here to-night ? " He was an honest man if not a con 
 stant one, and he would not lie to her even to save her 
 from this pain. 
 
 "Yes, it is true," he said, but did not look at her. 
 She gave a little sobbing catch of the breath. 
 
 "What have I done," she cried, "that you should 
 treat me in this way?" Her forlornness touched him 
 as nothing else could have done, and he gave a quick 
 step forward, stirred by the accustomed impulse to 
 take her in his arms. Some finer instinct in him stayed 
 him in the act and he remained leaned out to her, 
 moved and unhappy but without the sanction to touch 
 her where she sat. 
 
 "Anna," he said, and his voice had in it an ill- 
 concealed note of humiliation, "in all the time that 
 we have been together, have I ever either by failure of
 
 268 The Way of the North 
 
 service or by active deed brought you to feel that I have 
 been unkind ? " She did not answer, and he took her 
 silence to imply dissent. 
 
 "And since you came to Sitka have you ever had to 
 think that I rued my promise to make you my wife ? " 
 She still was silent, though she faintly shook her head. 
 He paused uncomfortably, not finding it an easy matter 
 to go on. 
 
 "You have been good to me," he faltered, "so 
 good that just to think of it makes me bitterly ashamed; 
 and whatever you may be thinking of me now I cannot 
 bear that you should feel that I would wittingly make 
 for you either trouble or distress." 
 
 "Alexei," she said, cutting the Gordian knot and 
 going at once to the weak point in his defence. "Do 
 you, indeed, love Marfa Alexandrovna so that but for 
 her holding back you would take her now to be your 
 wife instead of me?" 
 
 "I shall never marry Marfa Alexandrovna," he re 
 turned doggedly, " and you ought to know that I have 
 surely thought to marry you." 
 
 "But do you love her?" she persisted mercilessly. 
 
 "Yes, before God, I do!" he burst out suddenly. 
 " But that is a thing you have no right to ask. What is 
 it to you if I should find her altogether sweet, since that 
 I make you first and turn away from her to come to 
 you?" 
 
 "There is this right," she answered quickly, a blaze 
 of anger rising in her eyes. "I will have no question 
 now or afterward which of us two shall have your love. 
 I will be the whole, Alexei, or I will not be anything at 
 all." 
 
 It was a matter of astonishment to me that wishing as
 
 The Way of the North 269 
 
 he did honourably to be free the man did not sharply 
 cut the bond now that the knife was ready to his hand. 
 But in his vacillating mind some foolish thread of pride 
 held back the willingness to own himself as wrong; and 
 further I could see that as the chance of losing Anna 
 Gregorovna rose clearly in his view, her worth grew 
 larger to him at each pricking fear. 
 
 "Surely," he said, "you know you have been first. 
 When have you had a reason for a doubt ? " 
 
 "This one at least, that you came here to-night to 
 meet with Marfa Baranof. Why did you come?" 
 He had no answer ready, and she herself went on. 
 
 "Shall I tell you why?" she said scornfully. "It is 
 because you thought to hold us both at once. It may 
 be true that I have been first in your heart, Alexei, but 
 part of it at least has gone to Marfa Baranof, and I 
 have never had the whole." He did not attempt to 
 gainsay her in her accusation, and after waiting im 
 patiently for him for a moment, she went on: 
 
 "It is true, you see. That is why I have the right. 
 You can have her, Alexei, or you can have me, but you 
 cannot have us both." 
 
 "Well," he said finally, "what do you want me to 
 do?" She stopped sobbing and lifted up her face. 
 
 "There is nothing to do now, Alexei. It is all done." 
 Then, stirred by some sudden impulse of her wrong, 
 she covered her face again and cried out through her 
 close-pressed hands, "Oh, it is hard! Why could you 
 not have loved me as you said ? " 
 
 "I do love you," he cried passionately, and came 
 quickly up to where she sat. 
 
 "Anna," he pleaded, and his voice showed that for 
 the moment at least he believed each sentence that he
 
 270 The Way of the North 
 
 spoke, "surely, you cannot think of me as wholly 
 bad. You will not deny that you have thought I cared. 
 Even if I have done wrong in meeting Marfa here, I 
 can explain the matter and show that there was a reason 
 for it all. And whatever may have been my dereliction, 
 you must see that I love you now and have no thought 
 for anyone but you ! " But she was not to be beguiled 
 by his intensity, and showed no sign of being pacified 
 by what he urged. 
 
 "I cannot believe one thing you say!" she burst out 
 bitterly. "You tell me this to-night and to-morrow 
 you \vill say the same to Marfa Baranof." 
 
 "Anna," he declared with the most intense conviction, 
 "never since you came out to me here at Sitka have I 
 expected to make Marfa Baranof my wife." 
 
 "I could hate you for that," she retorted angrily, 
 "for if you did not, you have held her as something 
 worse." Alexei Yegorovitch straightened himself and 
 involuntarily bowed his head. 
 
 "Marfa Alexandrovna is a good woman," he said 
 almost with reverence. "I have never had an evil 
 thought about her in my life." 
 
 "How could you help it when you planned to take 
 her, knowing that you could not marry her honestly 
 under the law?" 
 
 "It is not true," he asserted indignantly. "Why 
 do you slander her in this way ? " 
 
 "It is true," she repeated with vehemence, "for 
 Marfa Alexandrovna herself so owned to me here 
 to-night." 
 
 " Marfa Alexandrovna ? " 
 
 "Yes, Marfa Alexandrovna! She told me she had 
 made up her mind to go to you in this way ! "
 
 The Way of the North 271 
 
 He still had in his manner the deference of his last 
 thought of Baranof s daughter, and now leaned forward 
 toward Anna Gregorovna with an air of astonished 
 incredulity and unbelief. 
 
 "Did she say that?" he demanded wonderingly. 
 
 "She did." He stood considering, and as he caught 
 the full meaning of the thing, his rare smile broke out 
 for a moment on his face. 
 
 "God bless her!" he said under his breath; yet not 
 so softly but Anna Gregorovna heard. 
 
 "You do love her!" she cried wildly, springing to 
 her feet. "I have never been the first!" He came 
 back to himself in a moment, but it was too late. 
 
 "Go," she said convulsively. "I never want to see 
 you again!" He turned to her and strove insistently 
 to make her listen to his pleas. 
 
 "I will not go," he said stoutly, "until you promise 
 me that you will let me come to you again and show 
 you all the truth. We have been too near together to 
 have you let me fall away from you unheard. I have 
 some right in this as well as you and you shall not be 
 so bitterly unfair to me." She listened to him patiently, 
 but did not relent. 
 
 "I do not know," she said. "I cannot promise any 
 thing to-night. 
 
 " Oh, you are hard ! " he cried feelingly. She resented 
 the imputation and her anger grew. 
 
 "I may be hard but I am honest," she said sig 
 nificantly, "and I will not say that which I do not 
 mean." He laughed inconsequently and drew up his 
 shoulders in a shrug. 
 
 "Very well," he said. "Then it only remains to me 
 to go, Good-bye." He held out his hand to her in
 
 272 The Way of the North 
 
 parting, but she would not take it and hid her own 
 hands behind her in her gown. 
 
 "Not to-night," she said forbiddingly. "It will be 
 time, Alexei, when I know that it is clean." He 
 laughed again nervously, bowed to her profoundly, 
 and walked slowly away to the window across the 
 room. Through it all he kept the utmost dignity of 
 poise and, at the last, he turned with another profound 
 courtesy, straightened himself, passed through the 
 window, and was gone. 
 
 Anna Gregorovna remained where she was till it 
 was certain he was really away. But this once sure, 
 the strong reaction came, and she went swiftly to the 
 bench where she had sat with Marfa Alexandrovna, 
 and throwing herself upon it with her head on a table 
 near at hand, poured out her grief in a great flood of 
 tears. 
 
 It is given to some men never to play the fool, but I 
 have no conviction I am one of them. So long as 
 Marfa Alexandrovna and Alexei Yegorovitch were on 
 the scene, there came to me no prompting, unasked, to 
 interfere. It was like a fantastic play at which it was 
 my privilege to sit and watch, and I had found no 
 qualms in waiting to see it played out to the very end. 
 
 But when the two were gone and Anna Gregorovna 
 was before me in the desolate abandon of her grief, it 
 fairly took the fortitude that I possessed to keep me 
 back from going to her in her need. A dozen times I 
 made the initial move and then found sense to fight the 
 impulse back. 
 
 There could have been but one way for me in the 
 end, if chance had not arranged to thwart me in the 
 desperate foolishness. In my uneasy stir, an arm struck
 
 The Way of the North 273 
 
 some small thing behind me on a shelf, and with a clat 
 ter it came down upon the floor. 
 
 The sound was startling, coming in the night, and 
 Anna Gregorovna could not help but hear it. She 
 raised her head sharply and listened for the noise, while 
 her look went searchingly into the shadows in swift 
 challenge of its cause. My heart was beating so it did 
 not seem that she could fail to hear it and so find me 
 out; but after a moment s wait she reassured herself 
 and settled back again to her despair. 
 
 But the homely interruption had served unconsciously 
 to loosen the high tension of her grief and made her 
 more alive to bodily discomforts and distress. It was 
 not long before she stirred uneasily and sighed aloud; 
 and in the end got up from where she sat, shook out 
 her dress, took up the lamp which had begun to flicker 
 and burn low, and raising it as a guide above her head, 
 passed from the room and softly behind her closed the 
 door. 
 
 With her went out the whole excitement of the night. 
 I waited long for the light-fingered soul who, if our 
 plans were right, should come to glean in this forbidden 
 field; but all the hours there was no sound or sight of 
 him to show him certainly a thing of flesh. It may 
 be Baranof s plans were not well laid or, better, that 
 the noise and troubles of the night had served to frighten 
 him. 
 
 But be that as it may, I made no prisoner and saw 
 no theft, but sitting there idly in the quiet dark, I found 
 full time to meditate on what had gone before. I did 
 not find the waiting hard to bear. I had found dis 
 comfort in the sight of Anna Gregorovna s grief, and 
 there still flamed within me a dull blaze of resentment
 
 274 The Way of the North 
 
 against the man who had brought her to this pass. 
 But, stronger than both these pains, there leaped in 
 my whole blood the exultant certainty that the end had 
 come in the affairs of Alexei Yegorovitch and Anna 
 Gregorovna, and that the outcome had been all that 
 I could wish in furtherance of my own desires. 
 
 No less disquieting was the problem how much of all 
 these things should be disclosed to Baranof. It was 
 in his interest I had been set to watch; and while the 
 thing discovered had nothing to do with Lebedef or 
 Company affairs, it did, in a way, affect his peace of 
 mind and so made lien on my responsibility. 
 
 Then, too, I much disliked to think of facing Baranof 
 with any but clear eyes. His trust in me had been 
 entire, and he deserved that in no point I should evade 
 or be uncandid with him. On the other hand, though, 
 I could not see what good could come to him from 
 being told, and there was no knowing what harm might 
 issue to the lovers plans, should he at hearing be 
 wrongly moved to interfere. 
 
 The more I thought about this last, the less I found 
 myself inclined to tell; and when the morning came 
 and with it Baranof, I had digested the matter fully 
 in my mind and made my vow that he should never 
 know. 
 
 He came in briskly, smiling, and with a quick glance 
 around the room. His eyes were alight, and he spoke 
 with the certainty of assured success. 
 
 "Well, who was it?" he said impatiently. 
 
 "There has been no attempt," I answered slowly, 
 striving so far as in me lay to appear rightly uncon 
 cerned. The light went suddenly out of Baranof s 
 eyes, and his jaws set together with a snap. His eye-
 
 The Way of the North 275 
 
 lids narrowed to a line, and he looked at me with search 
 ing suspicion. 
 
 "You are sure ?" he said from between his teeth. 
 
 "Yes, I am sure." 
 
 "And you have watched here without failing all night 
 long?" 
 
 "Yes. I have not left this closet for a moment since 
 you went away." Baranof s eyes went from me for 
 another quick look around the room, and he laughed 
 with the air of one who has caught his adversary nap 
 ping and is about to push his vantage home. 
 
 "If that is true," he said slowly, "how does it come 
 that the shutter yonder is unbarred ? " The catch was 
 so complete that I had no word to answer him. I 
 stood in helpless silence, oppressed not only by the 
 cloud of decent shame that blinded my own eyes, but 
 also by the sense of keen reproach I saw in his. Bara 
 nof s face flushed in temper, and I braced myself for the 
 expected explosion of his wrath. But he held himself 
 strongly, and when he spoke it was with a spirit of wist 
 ful curiosity rather than one of unreasoning rage. 
 
 "Are all men alike," he demanded bitterly, "or is 
 there some rare lack in me that no man not even the 
 one I trust and call my friend will tell me the truth ?" 
 
 "I have not lied to you, Alexander Andreievitch," I 
 answered, trying to be calm. "I said there had been 
 no attempt, and that is true." 
 
 "Then there was some one here?" 
 
 "Yes, but it was neither a robber nor a spy." 
 
 "Why did you not say so at the first?" he objected 
 fretfully. "I had a right to the entire truth." 
 
 "Because, in my judgment, it was better both for 
 you and others that I should not tell. I will tell you
 
 276 The Way of the North 
 
 now if you command it, but the meeting was not an 
 affair of state, but of the heart." 
 
 "Ah! a love affair!" he ejaculated softly, and stood 
 looking straight ahead, while he weighed swiftly in 
 his mind who the offending personages might be. It 
 did not take him long, however, to ferret out the truth, 
 and turning back to me with searching questioning, he 
 said abruptly: 
 
 "Which of the two was it that let the lieutenant in?" 
 
 "They were both here," I answered, "but Anna 
 Gregorovna talked with him alone." 
 
 "Tell me the whole, man!" he burst out impatiently. 
 " Can you not see that I have got to know ? " 
 
 Beginning with the first coming of Marfa Alex- 
 androvna, I related to him the full happenings of the 
 night. He listened with attention, but with slight 
 comment or remark. When I spoke of Marfa Ekater- 
 ina s bitterness at finding herself outside the law, he 
 sibilantly drew in his breath. 
 
 "So they have stung her with that poison, have 
 they?" he said absently. "I will soon put an end to 
 that." 
 
 At the narrative of Marfa s flight and the sur 
 prise of Alexei Yegorovitch in finding Anna Gregor 
 ovna in her stead, his face set in a grim smile of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Not so bad," he murmured. "I should have liked 
 to see the thing myself." But it was when I came to 
 the reflection on Marfa Alexandrovna s honour that he 
 uncorked the vials of his wrath. He stood licking his 
 lips while I set the matter out, the blaze of his anger 
 growing steadily in his eyes. 
 
 "That is enough," he said finally, stopping me before
 
 The Way of the North 277 
 
 I had come to the end. "Come, we will look for the 
 young man." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" I asked fearfully. 
 
 "What is there to do, " he answered heatedly, "except 
 just one thing? I am going to kill him as sure as I am 
 a man!" He turned to start upon his task of justice, 
 but before he had gone a yard I had him by the arm. 
 
 "You fool!" I said. " Do you want to spoil the only 
 chance of happiness Marfa Ekaterina still has? Can 
 you not see that since Alexei Yegorovitch has quar 
 relled with Anna Gregorovna, he will surely wish to 
 make Marfa Ekaterina his wife ? " 
 
 "It is not that," he roared. "It is my own honour 
 that is touched!" 
 
 "Be calm," I urged. "What would it count with 
 you if you should salve your honour, if thereby you 
 made for her a sorrow that would be lifelong ? " 
 
 "She is too good for him. He does not deserve to 
 have her for a wife!" 
 
 "But she loves him as you know, and from what I 
 guess of her condition, if she should lose him, I would 
 not answer for her life." He frowned and fumed, but 
 would not give it up. 
 
 "Let me go," he said roughly and wrested his arm 
 from my grasp. He made no motion to go on with his 
 plan, but turned directly across the room to a cup 
 board in the wall which he opened with a key. From 
 this he took a brandy bottle and a glass, and pouring 
 out a generous portion, drank it at a draught. The 
 liquor quieted him and he came back to me with more 
 of his usual calm. 
 
 "Come out," he said, "and make yourself known. 
 I have no further heart for this spying business. God
 
 278 The Way of the North 
 
 knows what we would get if we tried it a second time. 
 Let it keep till another day. Go to the archiman 
 drite s house, not the barracks, for your place. I 
 have had it made ready for you and for the priest. 
 Settle yourself and get about your work as you can." 
 
 "And you," I ventured, my heart in my mouth, "will 
 you let the lieutenant go?" He hesitated a moment 
 before answering. 
 
 "For the moment, yes," he said soberly. "But 
 beyond that I will not say. He has attempted my own 
 flesh and blood, and I will never forgive him so long 
 as we both shall live."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 IT was a thoughtful thing in Alexander Baranof so 
 to arrange for Joassaf Petrovitch that he should have 
 a place apart. No prop for courage could have seemed 
 more sure to the old man than the certainty that there 
 was for him a final sanctuary to which at will he could 
 retire. In the barracks he could not at any time have 
 felt he was alone. But in the archimandrite s house 
 his room was sacred to him, and when the door was 
 closed he could strip off the pretence and lay bare his 
 soul without a fear of prying intervention. 
 
 The great boat was quicker in coming than we 
 thought, and he and Peter Nicolaievitch landed from 
 it on the afternoon of the first day. It had been a scant 
 twelve hours and twelve since I had seen the pope, 
 but in his quick homecoming I found a thrill that longer 
 absence could not have made more keen. It pleased 
 him, too, to find me waiting for him, and scarcely was 
 he ashore than he had me in his arms. 
 
 "How is it, Joassaf," I said, "has everything gone 
 well?" His eyes still had the timid look that had 
 become a habit with him during his troubles of the past 
 few weeks, and even as he held me I saw his glance go 
 furtively from face to face among the crowd in fear of 
 derisive recognition. 
 
 "It is good to see you again," he murmured, and 
 tightened his arms about me with a hug, "and the place 
 is like home with so many faces that I know. But, 
 
 279
 
 a8o The Way of the North 
 
 Fedor," he said, bending till his mouth was fairly 
 against my ear, "I trust there has been no whisper of 
 our trouble at the post." 
 
 "No, not the faintest sound," I answered promptly. 
 "There is no reason why you should not wholly be at 
 peace." He sighed contentedly, and disengaged him 
 self from my embrace, and with a dash of his old self- 
 possession set about overseeing the landing of his bag 
 gage and his dog. 
 
 When the house was reached he entered into its pos 
 session with all the importance of a child. He planned 
 the stowing of his goods, and assigned to me the cham 
 ber he thought best fitted to my needs; and in the 
 safety and freedom of the new life, threw off for the 
 first time the incubus of care that for so long had been 
 a weight upon his soul. 
 
 "I shall not try to fill the archimandrite s shoes," he 
 said humbly, "for not only do my cassock and my 
 training render me unfit, but I am an old man now and 
 have not half the care for rank I have for peace. But 
 so long as there is no other priest in Sitka I will minister 
 to the people here, and do for them as if they were 
 my own." It pleased me to find him thus content in 
 coming back, though I had yet the haunting fear he 
 would not stay. I wanted to be sure he was through 
 with the delusion that before had taken him afield, and 
 waiting till he had finished with his homily, I said : 
 
 "And the natives; will you find enough of them here 
 to fill your need?" He looked at me searchingly, as 
 if to question why I asked, but he did not answer to the 
 challenge with the certainty of old, and after a moment s 
 steadiness his eyes fell. 
 
 "I shall wait and see," he said humbly. "I am not
 
 The Way of the North 281 
 
 so sure of vision as I was. God has given me a lesson, 
 Fedor, I shall not soon forget, and I have come oh, 
 with bitterness, have come! to know that it will not 
 do to be too certain of myself." 
 
 From the moment of his arrival neither I nor Joassaf 
 Petrovitch found free time for looking back. The 
 plague still held a senile grip on both Malemutes and 
 whites, and in more than one house of the post we found 
 unburied dead. All that night and the next day we 
 laboured side by side, and it was full afternoon again 
 before I had checked the final tally of my sick and he 
 had shrived his last penitent. 
 
 When the round was made, and we were slowly 
 walking back to the house which we called home, for 
 the first time since I returned to the post I found the 
 time to think of other things. My heart went down, 
 and I felt go from me the exultant uplift that had 
 come to me from being again among my kind. Much 
 of it no doubt was due to weariness and the strain 
 of being so long near to misery and death. But aside 
 from this I found a keen depression in the contemplation 
 of the way that things had shaped themselves around 
 me at the post. It was a special cause for grievance 
 that I had got no intercourse with any of the men and 
 women whose presence there had made it seem worth 
 while to journey backward to the place. 
 
 But Peter Nicolaievitch and Alexei Yegorovitch were 
 both busy with their daily work. Marfa Alexandrovna 
 made virtue of her illness to remain concealed. Anna 
 Gregorovna too, elected to work out her problem in the 
 quiet of her own room, and Alexander Andreievitch had 
 sunk into one of his fits of spleen and gone into retire 
 ment with his bottle, to brood upon his wrongs
 
 282 The Way of the North 
 
 and drink himself so far as might be toward forget- 
 fulness. 
 
 I might have forced myself on Marfa Alexandrovna 
 by virtue of my craft ; but she of all of them had suffered 
 most, and I did not find it in my heart to flush her 
 from her cover when she desired peace. It was Anna 
 Gregorovna of course that I yearned the most to see. 
 My heart was full of her and her pleasant ways, and 
 while as in the pope s case I had set myself positively 
 on record as having no belief in God-appointed tasks, 
 yet down in my heart I found the sure conviction that 
 Providence had constituted me a special messenger to 
 comfort her and bring her tidings of good cheer. 
 
 My long absence furnished full excuse for formal 
 visitation, and almost on the heels of the thought I 
 found myself looking up at the sun in calculation 
 whether or no there would be time to set my clothes 
 aright and go to her before the dinner hour. And so 
 looking I was sufficiently absorbed that I did not see the 
 blind boy, Paul Alexandrovitch, there before me, until 
 I was quite upon him in the way. 
 
 He was with a serving-maid who had in her more or 
 less of native blood. She had checked him so that he 
 should wait to let us pass, and now held him by the 
 sleeve, while he strained forward impatiently, pushing 
 out his head that no sound of our coming should escape 
 his ear. 
 
 "Who is it, Masha, that you should hold me back?" 
 he demanded. "Is it some one that I do not know?" 
 I went forward to him at once, and took his hand in 
 mine. Some fancy moved me not to speak my name, 
 but wait to test his recollection and see if he would 
 know. His other hand came quickly to the one I
 
 The Way of the North 283 
 
 held, and as when he had seen me first, he ran his 
 fingers lightly over mine. 
 
 " I know you," he cried with a little shout of joy. 
 "It is Fedor Kirilovitch, who let me touch the cow. I 
 did touch her, did I not, Fedor Kirilovitch, though 
 Anna Gregorovna said I was afraid." 
 
 "You were a brave boy," I answered, "and I am 
 glad to see that you remember what I said. But where 
 are you going, and how does it happen that this one is 
 with you now?" 
 
 " Masha ? Because Marfa is sick, and Anna Gregor 
 ovna is in her room asleep, and there was no one else 
 to bring me, when it was time for me to go out into the 
 air." 
 
 "Where are you going now ?" I said again. 
 
 "You shall go with me," he cried, dancing up and 
 down in his delight. "We are going to the warehouse 
 to see them put in the skins. I like to hear the men 
 sing and the noise as they throw the bundles from hand 
 to hand." 
 
 "I have never heard them," I said. "This is the 
 first time since I have been here that they have put in 
 the skins." 
 
 "Then come with me," he urged, "and we will see 
 together how it is done." I thought the matter over 
 quickly. If Anna Gregorovna was asleep, as Paul had 
 said, I should not want to waken her without a cause, 
 and if I yielded to the child s desire, I might have 
 chance for speech with Alexei Yegorovitch or Peter 
 Nicolaievitch himself. 
 
 "I will go," I answered, "if you will show me the 
 way." He clapped his hands delightedly together. 
 
 "Good!" he said. "I will. I know the way."
 
 284 The Way of the North 
 
 Then turning to the maid he ran to her and gave her a 
 little push. 
 
 "You may go now, Masha," he said peremptorily. 
 "I shall not need you any more." The woman laughed 
 and held him back. 
 
 " But the calf," she said. " You were going to see the 
 calf." Paul Alexandrovitch paused uncertainly and 
 turned his face to me. 
 
 "There is a calf, Fedor Kirilovitch," he said irreso 
 lutely, "a calf that has just been born." 
 
 "Can we not see it before we go to the warehouse ?" 
 I suggested. "I think there will be time." The boy s 
 face cleared at once. 
 
 "Fedor Kirilovitch will show me the calf, Masha," 
 he said, with dismissal in his tone. "And after all it 
 is better I should go there with a man." The woman 
 was both fond of the child and accustomed to his 
 whims; for without further question she bent and 
 kissed him on the forehead, and with a courtesy to me 
 went quickly away. 
 
 I took the boy by the hand and set briskly out for the 
 meadow near the stables where we had before seen the 
 cow. The pope, who had been a sympathetic listener 
 to our talk, fell in behind and came along with us. 
 The child was full of what he was to see, and chattered 
 on without a break for answer. But I was not so 
 bound up in my thought, and at the first view of the 
 animals we had come to see, I made sure that something 
 with them was amiss. 
 
 Two yards had been constructed in the open space so 
 that the two animals might be close together and yet 
 held apart. In one there was a commotion in which it 
 was not easy to distinguish forms, and in the other the
 
 The Way of the North 285 
 
 cow ran wildly up and down along the fence, vainly en 
 deavouring to break through the bars, and lowing 
 frantically in her anxiety. 
 
 "Take care of the boy," I said to Joassaf Petrovitch; 
 and letting go his hand I ran with all my speed across 
 the field. The tragedy was over before I reached the 
 spot, for when I was near enough to look into the yard 
 the calf had ceased to struggle and lay upon its side, 
 and a good-sized dog was shaking it and tearing at its 
 throat. 
 
 I shouted at the beast as I came up, and climbed the 
 fence as quickly as I could. But so engrossed was it in 
 its bloody work that it was not until I kicked it soundly 
 in the ribs that it came back to itself and let the little 
 creature go. For an instant its blood-fierceness held, 
 and it turned upon me with a growl and vicious show 
 of teeth. Then, as with all cowards, its prudence came 
 upon it with a rush, and with a parting snap at my legs 
 as it went by, it bolted away across the inclosure, 
 crawled through a hole where the palings had not been 
 driven close, and disappeared. There was something 
 familiar in the manner of its attack, and I turned to 
 follow it more closely with my eyes; and so standing, 
 almost at once I heard the voice of Paul Alexandrovitch 
 in excited call. 
 
 " What is it, Fedor Kirilovitch ? What is the matter ? " 
 he cried in his high, shrill voice. "Come at once and 
 let us in." Joassaf Petrovitch must have run with 
 him, for they already stood close against the fence. 
 The priest undid the fastenings of the gate, and brought 
 the child to where I stood. He was breathing hard 
 with the exercise and excitement, and took hold of me 
 with both his hands.
 
 286 The Way of the North 
 
 "What was it, Fedor Kirilovitch ? " he repeated im 
 ploringly. "Why did you have to run?" 
 
 "It was to save the calf/ I answered. "It was being 
 attacked by a dog." 
 
 "Where is it?" he demanded. "Was it very badly 
 hurt?" 
 
 "I am afraid it was. It is lying in front of you, at 
 your feet." He stooped down and put his hand on the 
 little animal, which now lay entirely still. 
 
 "Poor thing," he said. "And did you see what dog 
 it was that did it?" 
 
 "No," I returned. "It ran away too fast." But as 
 I spoke I chanced to glance at Joassaf Petrovitch, and 
 there was on his face so strange a look of shame and 
 guilt that like a flash it came to me why there had 
 seemed something familiar in the dog s last onslaught 
 on my legs, and I knew that I had missed the truth 
 when I said I did not know to whom the beast belonged. 
 I looked at the pope with searching inquiry. 
 
 "Was it a usual lapse for a convert," I said in a low 
 voice, "or did he experience a change of heart?" He 
 blushed to the eyes like a conscious girl and answered 
 to the spirit of my question rather than the words. 
 
 "Oh, no! no!" he murmured brokenly. "It could 
 not be. He would not do it! Besides he was tethered 
 strongly with a rope." 
 
 "You had better be sure of that before they make a 
 search." 
 
 "I will," he said eagerly, "though I do not believe it. 
 I will go at once." I watched with sympathy his 
 retreating figure until he was well out of sight, and then 
 turned round again to the stooping child. He was 
 talking to the stricken animal in low tones and passing
 
 The Way of the North 287 
 
 his hand lightly over it here and there. But as he 
 moved along the little creature s neck his fingers 
 chanced into the gash torn in its skin that had been 
 made by the teeth of the dog. The touch of the blood 
 was unpleasant to him, and with a shudder he wiped his 
 hand hastily upon the dryer hair and got quickly to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Come," he said. "I do not like this animal any 
 more. Let us go somewhere else." 
 
 "But," I urged, "what is the matter with it? A 
 little while ago, you were anxious to come." 
 
 " It is dead," he said with a shiver of distaste. 
 
 "But it will not hurt you dead, any more than it 
 would alive." 
 
 " I know it," he answered, " but it is different. Come, 
 let us go away." There was nothing further to be done, 
 so I yielded to his whim, and we set out for the ware 
 house in accordance with our original plan. The child 
 was sobered by the accident and did not talk, and it 
 was not until our destination was fairly reached that 
 he regained his natural buoyancy of poise. 
 
 The storehouse for the furs was, next to the great 
 house where the commander lived, the largest building 
 in the post. Just now the level at its front was strewn 
 with the flattened, compact packages of skins that 
 waited to be sorted out and carried to their final place 
 within the walls. Each bale on coming from the boat 
 had had its water dip and, exposed for two days to the 
 hot summer sun, both thongs and covers were shrunken 
 hard and stiff. 
 
 A line of men ran from the piles to the wide-open doors 
 and passed the bales from hand to hand of one another 
 with a steady rhythmic motion. Inside, the scene
 
 288 The Way of the North 
 
 was like a vision from a different world. There were 
 no windows in f he great cavernous place, &nd its 
 darkness was only made more visible by the torches set 
 here and there to give the workers light. 
 
 There w r as a cleared place or passage the whole 
 length of the front, but the main floor space w r as 
 filled with bales of skins piled one upon another so 
 high above the head that the eye lost the topmost 
 layers in the gloom. A central aisle ran crossways 
 through the stack, and two other narrower ways were 
 left on either side. The walls of these passageways 
 were sheer, the flat bales standing fairly well when 
 piled upon themselves. But to make all safe, rough 
 posts were raised at intervals in the aisleways, on 
 either side, with crossbeams wedged horizontally 
 between, to bind and hold there with the pressure, and 
 so reduce the strain. 
 
 Against the front of each stack, two ladders stood, 
 and up and down them a continuous stream of workers 
 went panting with the bales. Each man had on his 
 back a kind of cage made of withes and thongs, in 
 which he received one of the bales that came in through 
 the door. Thus loaded he at once began ascent, and 
 at the top the bale was seized and plucked away by 
 active waiting hands, so that the man was left load- 
 lightened to cross at once to the other ladder and 
 descend. 
 
 The man at the top, the bale once in his hands, 
 turned swiftly round and threw it to another worker 
 standing farther back. At the same time he cried out 
 sharply in a low singing note. The other caught the 
 bale as it came into his hands, and passed it on in like 
 fashion to a third man behind. He too gave a cry that
 
 The Way of the North 289 
 
 was musical and sweet, but that differed from the 
 first in being some notes higher in the scale. The 
 third man was as far as I could see, but by the cries 
 that came with perfect regularity, though varying up 
 and down like a rude round or chant, there was no 
 doubt about the progress of the bale back to its final 
 resting-place upon the pile. 
 
 There was a fascination about the activity and tire- 
 lessness of these human ants, and I stood with the boy 
 just inside the door, holding him tightly by the hand, 
 and watching the strange scene with all my eyes. 
 Paul Alexandrovitch danced up and down and pulled 
 determinedly against restraint. 
 
 "Do you not hear them, Fedor Kirilovitch ? " he 
 cried excitedly. "Do you not hear them sing?" It 
 was in my mind to stoop and answer him, but at that 
 moment I saw his father, Alexander Baranof, standing 
 in the crowd, and the sight of him for the moment put 
 the child completely from my mind. 
 
 Alexander Andreievitch had his place between the 
 centre and the right-hand doors, so that while he him 
 self was in shadow he had a view of all that was going 
 on around. His hands were in his pockets, and he 
 leaned lightly against the wall. There was that in his 
 manner and the forward poise of his head which con 
 firmed me in the belief that he had drunk too much and 
 was not thoroughly himself. 
 
 But the thing which seized my attention and held me 
 in its thrall was the strange and sinister expression of 
 his face. He did not seem to see us or the men that 
 worked about him on each side. He stood there 
 perfectly absorbed, with his eyes fixed on the point 
 where the central ladders had been set, and on his
 
 290 The Way of the North 
 
 countenance there was a look of hate so bitter and 
 malignant that in the dim light he seemed more like 
 an evil spirit than a man. 
 
 My eyes instinctively went out in question along the 
 direction of his glance, and following came to rest on 
 the figure of a man who stood at the ladder s foot and 
 seemed in certain measure in command. He was 
 stripped to his shirt and pantaloons on account of the 
 stifling heat, and his head turned continuously from 
 side to side in watchful observation of the work as it 
 went on. Nothing escaped the supervision of his eye, 
 and his recognition continually found expression in 
 words of approval and command. At the same time 
 with automatic regularity as each man passed him 
 on the way, he set over from one hand to the other a 
 small, smooth bit of stone, and thus kept certain tally 
 on the number of bales. 
 
 His dress and manner were so different that he was 
 unfamiliar at first sight, but in a moment, in spite of 
 his dishevelled look and the streaks of dirt upon his 
 neck and face, I recognised him as the Lieutenant 
 Sookin and understood why the commander stood and 
 stared at him with such dislike. 
 
 It was a strenuous problem that I had to face. Alexei 
 Yegorovitch had no knowledge that Baranof had solved 
 the riddle of his double love, and so was unprepared 
 against attack. On the other hand, I had seen the 
 commander in this mood before and knew that any 
 sudden spark would fan a blaze that in its swift upleap 
 would scorch them both. 
 
 My first thought was to go to Alexei Yegorovitch and 
 under cover of our greeting put him on his guard. 
 But my heart told me that Baranof in his present
 
 The Way of the North 2 gi 
 
 suspicious mind would take no time in seeing through 
 the trick, and, comprehending, might be moved at once 
 to all I would avoid. 
 
 Therefore I changed my plan and nerved myself 
 to beard the lion where he stood. For the moment 
 there did not come to me a plausible excuse for breaking 
 in upon his thought, but while I cast about, debating 
 in my mind, there came a full diversion that changed 
 the aspect of the whole affair and cleared the matter 
 once for all. 
 
 The workers on the central stack had set their 
 layer quite across the top and now were busy with the 
 rows immediately along the central aisle. They were 
 more swift than those on either side and worked at racing 
 speed to finish first. Their chant had quickened 
 almost to a tune and the slower men among them were 
 at pains, with certainty, to take and pass the bales. 
 
 Finally, the man at the head of the ladder caught 
 up and threw his bale a hair s-breadth sooner than its 
 proper time. The second man was taken unawares. He 
 turned from throwing his own bale and met the other 
 without chance to guard. It struck him fairly in the 
 chest and bowled him over like an alley pin. 
 
 At other points it would have done no harm; but 
 here the worker was so near the edge that, falling on 
 his back, he found no way to save himself, though he 
 scrambled frantically and caught at each side with his 
 hands. A moment he hung on the edge and then, half 
 rolling round, slipped over and came down. 
 
 He turned in the air with his arms and feet bent 
 under like a cat, and half-way down fell squarely across 
 the brace that held two stanchions at this point, so 
 that I thought he was safe. But the beam was only
 
 292 The Way of the North 
 
 wedged between the posts, and the sudden blow dis 
 lodged it, so that both it and the man came clattering 
 down together to the floor. The interruption served 
 to break the fellow s fall, and when he struck the floor 
 he leapt to his feet and ran wildly out and by us and did 
 not stop until he was well outside the door. 
 
 The men at work had met the case before and knew 
 the danger that might come. The instant of the fall 
 there was a shrill cry of warning from the nearest man, 
 that was taken up and carried on till it came from all 
 about the place; and like an avalanche the men upon 
 the stacks came running with a rush and with shouts 
 and curses swarmed down the ladders like a living 
 flood. 
 
 As I looked I saw the reason for their haste. The 
 prop removed, the walls of the aisle behind it began to 
 stir and bulge, and the posts on either side like closing 
 fingers moved slowly together at the top. Baranof 
 saw it too and planned an instant move. 
 
 "Steady!" he called, his big voice sounding high 
 above the noise. "Get in there quickly, and put 
 back that prop!" The men were too demoralised 
 by their sudden fright to respond at once, and with a 
 rush he went forward and smote Alexei Yegorovitch 
 on the back. 
 
 "Are you a coward?" he cried, "that you are afraid 
 to do your duty and go in ?" It was so suicidal a thing 
 to ask a man to do that Alexei Yegorovitch turned on 
 him in blank astonishment. But in the act he paused 
 and swung quickly back to look intently down the aisle. 
 He saw there something that we did not see, for with a 
 nod of his head to Baranof and one of his rare smiles, 
 he said:
 
 The Way of the North 293 
 
 "All right, I will go," and with a leap passed in 
 between the quickly narrowing walls. Involuntarily I 
 put out my hand to hold him back, and even Baranof 
 made as if he would have stopped him if he could. 
 
 To my surprise, Alexei Yegorovitch when he reached 
 it made no effort to take up the prop, but stepping 
 nimbly over it passed on beyond it at full speed along 
 the aisle. No other followed him and we stood, 
 breathless, watching the narrowing space. There was 
 no burst of sound or sudden shock; but after a time 
 that seemed interminable, there was a puff of dust and 
 the two walls settled down together with a sudden little 
 rush. 
 
 So gentle was it that for the moment its grim signifi 
 cance all but passed us by. I myself felt no more than 
 that Alexei Yegorovitch had passed through to some 
 where before the closing of a door. Baranof was the 
 first to see the truth. 
 
 "Come back," he called to the frightened crowd. 
 "There is no danger now. Back to your places there 
 on either side and throw these bales out till the aisle is 
 clear." The men obeyed him readily without a word; 
 and he and I and such as could be used made frantic 
 haste to move the bales in front passing them back to 
 those who carried them to the open air. 
 
 What brought the thought back I shall never know. 
 But while I worked thus madly with the rest, the sudden 
 memory seized me that I had forgotten my charge. 
 With a wild fear I stood upright and gripped Baranof 
 by the arm. 
 
 "The child!" I cried. "What has become of the 
 child?" 
 
 "What child?" he roared. "Stand back and get
 
 294 The Way of the North 
 
 to work." I did not dare to tell him, and at once let 
 go his arm. He paid no further heed, and I stood free 
 to seek the blind boy where and how I would. I ran 
 up and down the passage, searching every nook, and 
 scoured the field without at sides and front, but found 
 no trace of him. Somehow there continually came 
 back to me with haunting force that last strange look 
 of Alexei Yegorovitch and the unexplained mystery of 
 his flight along the aisle. But thinking did not help 
 it and at length in sheer despair I came back to the 
 work of clearing out the bales, trying to nurse the hope 
 that the boy had gone away and yet with the sinking 
 feeling always at my heart that in the m&le e he had come 
 to harm. 
 
 It was two hours before we cleared the passage back 
 to where the braces held, and just before the end we 
 came upon the lieutenant, and, under him, as I had 
 feared, the boy. In the excitement of seeing his 
 father in the place, I had forgotten him and let go his 
 hand. He had used his freedom to his own great hurt, 
 and wandering into the centre aisle had passed beyond 
 the break before the falling of the man. 
 
 The lieutenant saw him when the crisis came, and 
 found in his need the stimulus to act which Baranof s 
 taunt had failed to wake in him. It was plain his plan 
 had been to snatch the child and carry him to safety 
 out at the other end. But there had been no time, and 
 at the last he had laid the child close down against the 
 wall and bridged himself above him to save him from 
 the pressure of the falling bales. 
 
 The blind boy was senseless but not dead, and 
 Alexander Andreievitch with infinite tenderness and 
 care lifted him in his arms and carried him hurriedly
 
 The Way of the North 29$ 
 
 outside to the light. We turned the lieutenant over 
 on his back. I felt his pulse and put my head against 
 his breast; but there was no response of consciousness 
 and his heart had ceased to beat. His arms and legs 
 were broken with the strain and from the corners of his 
 lips had run a scarlet stream. Had he been a man of 
 stronger build he might have still pulled through. 
 There was but a light weight of bales above him and he 
 was almost into safety when he fell. But he was not 
 made for things like this, and the exertion alone was 
 enough to start the bleeding from his lungs. 
 
 But it was a splendid death, and the men who lifted 
 him uncovered reverently before they took him out. I 
 went before them to the door and came on Alexander 
 Baranof coming back. 
 
 "Can you not come to the boy?" he asked me anx 
 iously. Then with a realising look at the slower troupe 
 behind, he said softly, "And is he dead?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered with some bitterness. "I trust 
 you are satisfied with your revenge." He threw up his 
 hand in eager deprecation. 
 
 "No! no! He was a brave man," he said soberly, 
 "I did not like him, I admit. But when I gave that 
 order, it was solely to bring him to his duty in the case, 
 and before God I had no thought to send him to his 
 death."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IT is a strange change death brings to a face. They 
 say it is a man s soul that looks out through his eyes, 
 and it may be this we miss when it is gone. I had 
 known Alexei Yegorovitch so that in the dark I could 
 call up his face; but when we carried out the body to 
 the light, the look of him was such he might have been 
 another than himself, and I saw him with a real sense 
 of shock. 
 
 There was no strange distortion nor trace of mar or 
 bruise. When I had wiped away the stain of blood 
 about the lips there was no sign to show how he had 
 died. But the play of thought, the lighting of the eyes, 
 the rare illuminating smile that stirred the lips, had all 
 vanished with his life and the blind mask that looked 
 at me was unfamiliar to me in its set repose. I know I 
 shrank from it and was glad when the men lifted him 
 and carried him away. 
 
 The child still lay unconscious with I knew not what 
 inward hurt. There seemed no immediate danger of 
 his growing worse, and after arranging for his removal 
 and his care, I betook myself to the archimandrite s 
 house to arrange affairs arid make needed preparations 
 for the later watch beside his bed. 
 
 The pope was waiting for me at the door and drew 
 me with much mystery inside. As soon as we were 
 alone together, he came close to me and, in a dismayed 
 whisper, unburdened to me his care. 
 
 296
 
 The Way of the North 297 
 
 "It was the dog," he said significantly. The greater 
 tragedy had driven the lesser one that had preceded it 
 entirely from my mind and it was a full minute before 
 his statement touched my consciousness. 
 
 "How do you know?" I said at last. 
 
 "There was blood on him," he returned solemnly, 
 "and his chaps were red." 
 
 "What have you done with him killed him?" 
 
 "Oh, no," he cried in genuine distress, "that would 
 not help. He would not understand. I have him 
 shut up yonder in the room." I shrugged my shoulders 
 and passed on through to my own place. He followed 
 me and while I began my preparations, sat himself 
 down dejectedly upon the bed. He was so stirred by 
 the disgrace which had been brought upon him by the 
 one creature for whom he really cared, that he had no 
 eye for anything beyond. 
 
 "I would not worry about the matter," I said con 
 solingly. " Even if you have to give him up, he is only 
 a dog." 
 
 "I cannot forgive him," he returned with a grieving 
 simplicity that was like a child s. "It is his ingratitude 
 that hurts. I had trouble enough already without his 
 adding this." 
 
 " But, man, he is only a beast." 
 
 "I know it," he said with an air of offended dignity, 
 "but I have done enough for him that he ought to have 
 stopped and thought." The assumption was so 
 amusing that I almost laughed, but it took small 
 observation to make plain that the matter was all 
 serious to him. The dog had remained a friend when 
 all the rest of his world had turned away and there had 
 grown up in the man a joy in the relation, as tender as
 
 298 The Way of the North 
 
 f the animal had been human and not beast. So I 
 checked the smile that trembled on my lips and listened 
 sympathetically while he went babbling on, complaining 
 of his protdge* as a father might of a wayward child. 
 But the thing was too insignificant to hold me against 
 the heavier matters that were on my mind and in the end 
 I grew impatient of his talk. 
 
 "You are not alone in being troubled," I said at 
 length. "I too have had an afternoon." 
 
 "I knew you would," he answered sympathetically, 
 "for you were certain from the beginning that it was 
 surely he." 
 
 "Oh, damn your dog," I said, my patience giving out. 
 "Mine was a real tragedy. Alexei Yegorovitch was 
 killed to-day by the falling of the skins and I saw them 
 take him out from under the pile of bales." The 
 pope looked quickly up at me with shocked and 
 startled face. 
 
 "How did it happen?" he demanded breathlessly. 
 
 "He sacrificed himself to save the blind boy, Paul." 
 
 "Paul ?" he repeated after me, "and was he saved ?" 
 
 "Yes, unless he has some inner hurt." He stood 
 for a moment turning the sudden tidings over in his 
 mind. 
 
 "Where are they?" he said at length. 
 
 "Alexei was carried to the barracks; the boy they 
 have taken home." 
 
 "It is dreadful," he ventured, his former engrossing 
 interest entirely merged in the new care. "Let us go 
 to them. Perhaps we can be of use." 
 
 "I was making ready for it," I returned. "I am to 
 watch with the boy to-night." 
 
 When I was ready, we sat down to our meal, the pope
 
 The Way of the North 299 
 
 speaking constrainedly in low question and drawing 
 out from me the details of Alexei s death. We were 
 for the most part silent as we started on our way, and 
 when we came to the entrance to the barracks the pope 
 fell back and let me lead the way. 
 
 I knew the place so well I did not think to make 
 announcement before going in. The great room was 
 deserted and we passed through it without stopping to 
 the chamber in the rear that had been Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch s. So it happened on opening the door that we 
 surprised Peter Nicolaievitch sitting dejectedly on the 
 side of the bed on which the lieutenant had been laid. 
 
 He got to his feet shamefacedly and turned on us 
 with a manner that was almost fierce. His face 
 softened as he discovered who we were, and he came 
 silently forward and gave to each of us a hand. His 
 eyes were red and the clasp he gave me was so strong 
 it hurt. 
 
 "We did what we could for him," he said soberly, 
 "but it was too late." We advanced to where the 
 body lay and Peter Nicolaievitch, as gently and tenderly 
 as if he feared the sleeper might awake, drew back the 
 cloth that covered up the face. I set my teeth involun 
 tarily as he did so, for, at the motion, the dislike I had 
 had when I last saw the lieutenant came back again 
 over me like a wave. 
 
 But I might have spared myself the fear, for with the 
 first glance at him, the feeling passed absolutely and 
 for all time away. He was different here in the soft 
 light of the lamp and what I saw had nothing about it 
 to disturb my mind. Peter Nicolaievitch had propped 
 the body up with pillows and the draperies were dis 
 posed about him as if lie were asleep. The features had
 
 300 The Way of the North 
 
 come back to something of their old intelligent estate, 
 and as I looked at him I could not but take note 
 how wonderfully like he looked to the Alexei of the 
 time when he had made his choice between the pope 
 and me, and fainting, furnished me my earliest patient 
 at the post. 
 
 The loss was still too fresh with Peter Nicolaievitch 
 and as he stood holding back the cloth, though his face 
 was rigid as a mask, his lips quivered piteously in his 
 effort at self-control. 
 
 "I suppose this is a thing that comes to everyone," 
 he said huskily, "but I wish to God it could have been 
 delayed till I was free to leave this Tophet of a place." 
 We thought of no fitting answer, and he bent above the 
 body with a tenderness of manner I had never seen in 
 him before. 
 
 "Poor boy," he said, and touched him gently with 
 his hand. Then with a force that was almost rough 
 ness he turned and spoke to me. 
 
 "Marfa Alexandrovna " he said, "has she been 
 
 told?" 
 
 "I do not know," I answered. "I had not thought 
 of it." 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "She has been ill all day and has not left her room." 
 
 "I am glad," he said simply. "It would kill her to 
 come upon it unawares." He stood for a moment 
 absorbed in thought, endeavouring to settle the matter 
 satisfactorily in his mind. 
 
 "She must hear of it as she should," he said at last 
 decisively, and the pope and I, listening, both answered, 
 "Yes"; but in spite of this full agreement of our minds 
 we were not at peace. I looked at the pope and at
 
 The Way of the North 301 
 
 Peter Nicolaievitch, and they looked at each other and 
 at me. We were all equally united in the need of 
 bringing properly to her the dreadful news, but there 
 was no one of us but felt dismay at the thought of being 
 called on personally to carry out the plan. 
 
 "I could not do it," Peter Nicolaievitch said between 
 his teeth. The disclaimer was purely an expression 
 of opinion personal to him, but I welcomed and adopted 
 it as my own with a breathing of relief. 
 
 "There is but one person, really, who has the right," 
 I answered; "Alexander Andreievitch must do it if it is 
 done at all." 
 
 "He may, perhaps, if you ask him," said Peter 
 Nicolaievitch doubtfully, "but he will not want to, he 
 so dreads a woman s tears." 
 
 "I have talked to him before of Marfa Alexandrovna, 
 and he is quick to seize on anything that may affect her 
 life or health." 
 
 "It is worth trying," said Peter Nicolaievitch, 
 thoughtfully. "She is like him in ways and pride and 
 he cares more for her than for anything else on earth." 
 We walked in silence to the door and, in parting, Peter 
 Nicolaievitch wrung my hand. 
 
 "Do not delay," he cautioned. "I should never 
 forgive myself if through our lack the thing should go 
 amiss." 
 
 We went directly to the injured boy, and, as I had 
 hoped, we found the commander sitting by the bed. 
 The child had awakened from his enforced trance and 
 was conscious of what passed about him in the room. 
 He was supremely weak, however, and had no wish to 
 stir; but his progress had been good, and I doubted 
 not that in the end he would survive.
 
 302 The Way of the North 
 
 Alexander Andreievitch held him gently by the hand 
 and spoke to him now and then in a shadow of his big, 
 accustomed voice, The only sign the blind boy made 
 was a slow movement of the head from side to side, and, 
 at intervals, a whispered calling of his sister s name. 
 So many times did this occur, and the child s desire for 
 her seemed so great, that I made of it my opportunity 
 to question Baranof. 
 
 "Marfa Alexandrovna," I said, "why is it she does 
 not come?" He glanced at me with an almost guilty 
 look. 
 
 "I have not sent for her," he said slowly. "She has 
 not been told." 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked. " It surely must be done." 
 
 "I know it," he cried protestingly, "but how?" 
 
 "It falls to you, Alexander Andreievitch. There is 
 no one else." 
 
 "I cannot," he said weakly, "I have not the heart." 
 
 "But think what will come to her if she hears it as 
 she surely will from some other mouth." He stood 
 irresolutely, with his head bent down and rubbed his 
 foot from side to side upon the floor. 
 
 "Were it some one else, I would not care," he said 
 slowly, "but with my own flesh and blood ! 
 
 "That is true," I assented, "but to do it will be the 
 real kindness in the end." 
 
 "Well, I will try," he said at last. "To-morrow if I 
 can " 
 
 "No," I interrupted, "it must be done to-night." 
 Quite unexpectedly, he raised his head and turned 
 suddenly to me. 
 
 "Will you go with me ?" he said abruptly. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "if you think I can be of use." His
 
 The Way of the North 303 
 
 eyes looked his satisfaction and he gave a long sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 "And the priest, too," he said. "She was fond of 
 the priest." 
 
 "They are good at consolation," I answered, "and 
 I think if you ask him, he will come." 
 
 Baranof, having made up his mind, could have no 
 rest until he had the matter done. He called a woman 
 to attend the boy, and, motioning with his head for us 
 to follow, led the way out of the room into the hall and 
 so passed through to the women s side of the house. 
 At a door at the end of the passage, he stopped and 
 knocked. 
 
 "Marfa," he called,, "it is I. May I come in?" 
 There was a moment s silence and I heard from within 
 the girl s voice say: 
 
 "Yes, if you wish it, come." Baranof hesitated a 
 moment with his fingers at his lips. Then with a swift 
 glance at us to brace his courage, he lifted the latch 
 softly and we all passed into the room. 
 
 Marfa Alexandrovna was dressed, except that she 
 had let down her hair, and she lay upon a couch near 
 the centre of the place. She was not expecting any 
 except her father to come in, and our intrusion came to 
 her with a sense of shock. She slid her feet off quickly 
 from the bed and sat upright upon its edge. 
 
 "You should have warned me," she said to her 
 father, with annoyance in her voice. "I thought you 
 were alone." Baranof was too full of his tidings to 
 pass the matter off, but he made such effort as he could. 
 
 "It is Fedor Kirilovitch," he said apologetically. 
 "He has just returned from his journey to the North 
 and I was anxious to have him see you without delay,"
 
 304 The Way of the North 
 
 She turned her solemn eyes on me in keen interrogation, 
 but she had found something unusual in her father s 
 look or speech, and, without greeting even, her eyes 
 left mine and went back in uneasy questioning to his. 
 
 "Is that the only reason?" she asked searchingly. 
 
 "Only your health," he said, dropping down his 
 head so as to avoid her eyes. She kept her gaze upon 
 him mercilessly. 
 
 "But the priest, then," she said, "why did you bring 
 the priest?" He had no answer ready and her agita 
 tion grew, for in his guilty look there was that by which 
 her suspicions were confirmed. 
 
 "Why do you not tell me, father?" she continued 
 with such calmness as she could command. At the 
 same time, I could see her body tremble and her eyes 
 grow luminous with the fear of what he might disclose ; 
 and as she spoke, she gripped the edge of the bed beside 
 her with her hand. Baranof s face grew flushed with 
 the strain of what he had to tell. 
 
 "Marfa," he said wistfully, "I have been a good 
 father to you, have I not ? " 
 
 "Yes," she said tentatively, devouring him with her 
 eyes. 
 
 "And you believe that if I have come between you 
 and anything in this life that you have cared to have, 
 it has been only because I thought it needful for your 
 welfare that I should ? " She did not speak in answer 
 nor take away her eyes, but her lips formulated dumbly 
 the motion of assent. 
 
 Already in the absorption of their emotion both she 
 and her father had forgot that we were there, and they 
 went on with their dialogue as if they were alone. The 
 girl s Indian blood stood her in good stead in helping
 
 The Way of the North 305 
 
 to preserve her calm, though her rigid pose and intense 
 concentration betrayed how strongly she was under 
 strain. Baranof was excited, too, and ill at ease and 
 spoke with an humbleness and gentleness that were a 
 gauge of how tenderly he held her in his heart. 
 
 "If I should come to you to-night," he blundered on, 
 "and say to you that there was a great sorrow for you 
 in what I had to tell if I should bring you word that 
 what you have been hoping for your future and holding 
 dearest in your heart had surely failed and come to 
 wreck because both the man and the chance have gone 
 forever would you have courage, dear 
 
 But she could bear the strain no longer and broke in 
 upon his word. 
 
 "Father," she said in bitter accusation, getting to 
 her feet and leaning breathlessly out to him in her fear, 
 "what have you done to Alexei Yegorovitch? Where 
 has he gone?" 
 
 "God alone knows," he said solemnly, "but I trust 
 he is at peace." Marfa Alexandrovna quailed visibly 
 and drew in her breath in a sob of horror and distress. 
 
 "Is he dead?" she whispered. 
 
 "Yes," said Alexander Andreievitch, softly, "he was 
 killed this afternoon at the warehouse by the falling 
 of the skins." 
 
 She did not speak again, nor find in tears the merci 
 ful outlet for her grief. It was as if the blow had taken 
 from her instantly and for all time the power of motion 
 and of speech. Only as the moments passed her eyes 
 grew almost fierce in their dry brightness and her hag 
 gard face more drawn ; and as the weakness that such 
 excitement brings took hold upon her, she suddenly 
 sat down.
 
 306 The Way of the North 
 
 Baranof put out his hand awkwardly, as if to help 
 her and then drew it back. It was plain that however 
 close the understanding was between the two, it did not 
 go to the intimate exchange of sympathy and love. 
 
 We all three stood in silence, hoping each moment 
 that the first pang of her loss would pass. But there 
 was no respite for her troubled heart, and almost before 
 we realised it, the agony of her bereavement and the 
 growing weight of her despair wrought their full mischief 
 in her tortured brain and she slipped out and away from 
 us, across the boundary of sanity and hope. 
 
 She did not move or speak, but in her face there 
 grew a subtle and unpleasant change, and her eyes 
 began to burn with an intensity that was like a con 
 suming fire. Her fingers which until now had been 
 quiet as she sat, moved nervously out and in and she 
 picked restlessly at her sleeves and dress. Then with 
 out warning her hands went swiftly to her throat and 
 rocking back and forward in her place, she began sud 
 denly to laugh. 
 
 It was not the laughter that is near to tears nor the 
 mirthless voicing that hysteria prompts. From its low 
 beginning to its high-pitched gibbering close it was 
 sentient with the horror that only madness brings. As 
 it began and swelled to the full measure of its sound, 
 my flesh crept with a shivering chill and I heard the 
 pope behind me say, "Dear God!" 
 
 I turned to look at him, but at once looked back, for, 
 in the instant, Baranof, stirred as we were, made a 
 movement toward the excited girl, and, with a scream 
 that drove the colour from our cheeks, she sprang to 
 her feet and crouching like something wild, launched 
 herself directly at his throat.
 
 the Way of the North 307 
 
 He caught her in his arms regardless of her cries and 
 made strong fight to seize her by the hands. I was by 
 him almost in the thought, and between us we pinioned 
 the arms of the unfortunate creature to her sides and 
 forced her back again upon the bed. She writhed and 
 moaned and beat out with her hands, but her father 
 kept his place beside her and with his arm around her 
 strove to quiet her with soothing speech. He was 
 breathless with the violence of his exertions and as he 
 talked to her, the tears ran steadily down his face. 
 
 "Take heart," I said. "It is not likely this violence 
 will last." He turned his face to me with a despairing 
 motion of his head. 
 
 "It is a judgment," he said huskily. "My punish 
 ment is great." I knew that for the moment he was 
 not thinking of her, but of his hatred of Alexei Yegoro- 
 vitch and the indirect part he had played in compassing 
 his death, and I found no word of comfort for him in 
 my heart. The pope was already kneeling at the end 
 of the couch, his calm face lifted up in prayer. I took 
 my station on the other side, and with my fingers on 
 Marfa Alexandra vna s pulse, resigned myself as did the 
 other two, to watch the resolving of her state.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IT is now three months since Alexei Yegorovitch 
 died, and in that time the most of those who suffered 
 in his tragedy have found their healing and come again 
 to peace. For one thing, the summer is over and the 
 nights have darkness of a Christian length. The 
 autumn winds have blown away the vapours of con 
 tagion that kept the people sick; and even the settlers, 
 purged of their first homesickness, have taken on more 
 cheerful airs and come to look resignedly on life. 
 
 Baranof himself has much to make him glad. Lebe- 
 def s settlement on the river has met with final and 
 deserved ruin; and there has never been another year 
 that brought the Company so many skins. And, 
 besides success to gratify his pride, far more than he 
 had hoped, the commander has found salvage from 
 the wreckage of the things that were near his heart. 
 
 The blind boy, Paul, in his mishap, met with no vital 
 hurt, and to-day is all that he was before. Marfa 
 Alexandrovna still sits in darkness and is outside of 
 life, but the acute rigour of her malady has been long 
 since stayed, and in her eyes at times there comes the 
 flicker of intelligence that is the first lighting of return 
 ing dawn. 
 
 It was a somber promise of new happiness that pre 
 sented itself to Alexander Andreievitch when he began 
 to take up life again in his great empty house. With 
 Marfa gone, and Marya Andreievna dead of the plague, 
 
 308
 
 The Way of the North 309 
 
 he looked with melancholy and dismay on its conduct 
 and its care. But, with kindly spirit, Anna Gregorovna 
 threw herself into the breach and made his comfort and 
 his happiness her earnest thought ; and so complete has 
 been her ministration that he has come to lean on her 
 as before he did on those of his own blood, and to lavish 
 on her much of the love that Marfa earlier claimed. 
 
 The one, perhaps, who looks least happily on life is 
 Joassaf Petrovitch, the pope. He has settled himself in 
 the archimandrite s house and, without assumption of 
 that functionary s dignities, has drawn around him 
 all his cares and work. The militant instinct that 
 drew him afield to battle for the Lord has sunk to 
 a mere smoulder, and for the most part scarcely 
 glows at all. 
 
 In truth, I think he looks upon the natives with a 
 reservation that is near distrust. The Kolosh men he 
 tolerates and meets half-way, but the women he can 
 not yet abide. The Russians of his charge have, with 
 out exception, come to love him, and, above all, to 
 respect. It would seem that, of all of us, he has the 
 smallest quarrel with his fate, and should have passed 
 us in the reach of his content. 
 
 But it is not what is had, but what is lacking, that is 
 the final measure of the cup, and, though in all things 
 else he seemed to have his wish, the whole horizon has 
 been darkened for him by the losing of his dog. The 
 affair of the calf proved more serious than I had at first 
 surmised. The little animal was the first of its kind 
 the colony had seen and its untimely fate called forth a 
 strict inquiry for its self-appointed executioner. Each 
 man about the post who owned a dog was plied with 
 swift and rigid inquiry, and when account could not
 
 310 The Way of the North 
 
 be made, or where the path of the animal had turned 
 a hairsbreadth to the side, the man was punished and 
 the dog \vent to its death. 
 
 At first no word of this came either to the pope or me. 
 His dog, Joassaf Petrovitch had kept hidden in an inner 
 room, and those in search forgot he was the owner of 
 the beast. The whole pursuit would have passed us 
 without once calling on the scent if it had not chanced 
 that on a Wednesday, when it was raining hard, as we 
 were out and coming back across the town, we came 
 upon a man set in the stocks, who took his punishment 
 in most unhappy wise. 
 
 The little roof above his head, which should have 
 made a shelter for him from the rain, had gone askew 
 by the help of some one s hand, and the drip of it, just 
 missing his face as he leaned back, poured down in a 
 steady stream upon his stomach and his legs. He was 
 a slender fellow, and sickly at the best, and as he sat 
 there wet and draggled in his forced inactivity, his face 
 was blue and pinched and he shivered in the keen sea 
 air as if in his desire to be free he would shake out his 
 very life. 
 
 He was so dismal in his sodden misery, that involun 
 tarily I stopped to look at him. It was the physician s 
 instinct rather than an impulse of the heart that made 
 me search in my pocket for a flask. The fellow 
 watched me eagerly as I drew out the cork and he held 
 up his mouth like a fledgeling bird for me to pour the 
 liquor in. 
 
 He gasped a little as it burned its way, but, when it 
 was down, he settled back with a great sigh of com 
 fort and relief and looked the thanks he had not power 
 to speak. The pope pulled up his roof till it stood
 
 The Way of the North 31 1 
 
 square again on its supports, and the water once more 
 drained away from him beyond his feet. 
 
 "What have you done, man?" I said in sympathetic 
 question. "Your lapse must have been great that it 
 required setting out in a rain like this to soften your 
 heart." He made a grateful attempt to smile in 
 answer, but the result was too watery for a full success. 
 
 "It was my love for animals," he said when he could 
 hold himself so he could speak. "They tried to take 
 my dog to kill him and I struck the officer, and so they 
 set me here. They got the dog," he added gloomily. 
 
 "But* what had the beast done that they should take 
 him ? " I asked in some surprise. 
 
 "They said that he had killed the calf. It was the 
 general order. I could not prove he had not, so they 
 took him like the rest." I turned quickly to the pope 
 and found him looking at the man with an agitation 
 he could not conceal. 
 
 "You say you are here because they thought your 
 dog had killed the calf ? " he demanded hurriedly. 
 
 "Yes," assented the man. "There was no other 
 fault." 
 
 "It is a mistake," said Joassaf Petrovitch, eagerly. 
 "I did not know there was a search. I will go to 
 Alexander Andreievitch at once." The prisoner did 
 not understand the reason for his agitation but he 
 gathered clearly that we were about to intercede with 
 Baranof in his behalf. He mustered courage to ask 
 for further drink and I poured the brandy into him in 
 a long, gurgling stream. Thus fortified, he watched 
 our going with growing interest and peace, and sent 
 after us an avalanche of fervent prayers for our success. 
 
 Baranof, as was usual with him at the hour, was busy
 
 312 The Way of the North 
 
 at his desk, but the rain or lack of business for the day 
 had worked successfully to clear the place, and, the 
 audience room being empty, we were not obliged to 
 wait. The pope did not stop for recognition, but began 
 to speak at once. 
 
 "Alexander Andreievitch," he began excitedly, "I 
 have done a wrong and I have come to you to set the 
 matter right." Baranof laid down his pen and looked 
 up at him with a smile. In the intimate association 
 of the days just passed he had come to understand the 
 old man and to look with more indulgence on his 
 impulses and whims. He did not speak at once, but, 
 stretching his ringers like one who has just discovered 
 it is cold, got up and walked as if for exercise, around 
 the desk. 
 
 "I am glad to find that you recognise that there is 
 authority in me," he said good-humouredly. "Some 
 times I think you priests believe there is no power above 
 you except God." Joassaf Petrovitch was too much 
 troubled to take notice, even, of the lightness of the 
 speech. 
 
 "There is a man out yonder in the rain," he said 
 earnestly. "His punishment is wrong, and I come to 
 you to have you let him go and put me in his place." 
 Baranof did not even question this astonishing demand, 
 putting it down to some delusion of the priest. He 
 thought gravely for a moment and then said: 
 
 "If we were in China now, I have no doubt the sub 
 stitution would be an eminently proper thing. But here, 
 the man who does the crime must take the punishment." 
 
 "That is it," cried the pope hastily. "It was my 
 crime, not his!" Baranof looked at him searchingly 
 from under his heavy brows.
 
 The Way of the North 313 
 
 " What was the crime ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 "The killing of the calf. It was my dog, not his, 
 that did it." Baranof plainly looked relieved. 
 
 "Oh! That!" he said with some contempt. "I 
 thought it must be murder at the least." 
 
 "But the man in the stocks," went on the pope 
 aggrievedly. 
 
 "We will have him out," said Baranof, and turned 
 and rang his bell. The order was soon given, and the 
 commander turned again to us. 
 
 "Why did you not tell me before it was your dog?" 
 he said reprovingly. 
 
 "The thing happened on the day Alexei Yegorovitch 
 was killed and the weightier matters drove it from my 
 mind. We did not know there was an inquiry until 
 to-day." Baranof s eyes twinkled and he held his lips 
 together to avoid a grin. 
 
 "I am not so sorry as I might be," he said slowly. 
 "The delay has served to wipe out almost every worth 
 less cur about the post. I have not had such a clear 
 ance in two years." 
 
 "But the punishment for me?" suggested the pope 
 meekly. "I was more guilty even than the rest." 
 Baranof nodded vigorously his understanding of the 
 case and then laughed aloud. 
 
 "You are the first culprit that ever came to me to 
 ask for his own punishment," he answered, "and 
 that alone entitles you to mercy at my hands. Kill 
 the dog and we will let it go at that." The pope s 
 hands came convulsively together and he fairly 
 gasped. 
 
 "I would like to keep him," he said tremulously. 
 "If I should take the punishment, could it be arranged
 
 314 The Way of the North 
 
 that way?" Baranofs face grew grave and he medi 
 tatively pursed up his lips. 
 
 "Are you so fond of him as that?" he asked. "I 
 remember now, you brought him from the North." 
 He considered the matter in silence, while the pope 
 waited breathlessly what he would decide. 
 
 "I do not see how it can be done," he said at last. 
 "Once a killer, a dog is always one, and at the best it 
 would be only a little time till you would have to give 
 him up." The tears stood in the pope s eyes, but it 
 was not his way to stand against authority and he 
 accepted the decision without the protest of a word. 
 
 "When will they come for him ?" he asked faintly. 
 
 "Oh, this afternoon, I suppose," said Baranof. "I 
 am sorry for you, man," he added sympathetically. "I 
 would allow it if I could. Let the beast go and if you 
 like you shall have any other decent animal about the 
 post." 
 
 The pope shook his head, but would not trust him 
 self to speak, and we went out again, leaving Baranof 
 with sufficient interest in the affair to keep him gazing 
 ruefully after us till we reached the door, before return 
 ing to his work. Joassaf Petrovitch kept a pace ahead 
 of me upon the road and, when we reached the house, 
 closeted himself at once in the room where the dog was 
 hid. He would not come out to eat and I made no 
 effort to disturb him till the men came to take away the 
 beast. Then I went to the door and called to him 
 inside. 
 
 "Joassaf," I said, "the men are here." There was 
 no answer and I tried the door. It was fastened on the 
 inside and I had no recourse but to call again. 
 
 "Joassaf," I repeated, "you must bring out the dog."
 
 The Way of the North 315 
 
 "I hear," came out the stifled answer. "In a 
 moment I will come." I stopped my knocking and 
 went back to the men, who had remained outside. It 
 was full five minutes before he ventured out; but at last 
 he came, with the dog hugged tightly to his breast and 
 on his face the look of renunciation Abraham must 
 have had when for sacrifice he first laid hands upon 
 his child. 
 
 The time of waiting had evidently been given to the 
 last farewells, for, without a change of feature or a 
 word, the pope went to the nearest man and put the 
 creature in his arms. The dog, with his eye obediently 
 on his master, made no struggle and remained quietly 
 in the fellow s grasp. 
 
 The men moved off and the pope turned aside and 
 stood with his head bent and fingers on his lips to wait 
 till they were wholly out of sight. But the dog, re 
 leased from the binding magic of the pope s control, 
 registered a strong disclaimer to the manner of his car 
 rying off and promptly bit his captor on the arm. The 
 man dropped him, and the animal, once upon his feet, 
 took to his heels and fled swiftly toward the house. 
 
 But it was not to accomplish its escape, for the other 
 man, raising his gun, took hurried aim and fired, and 
 the dog, struck in a vital part, stumbled and went 
 down almost at Joassaf Petrovitch s feet. He was 
 upon it almost as it fell and with hysteric abandon 
 petted it and talked to it as if it still could understand. 
 I motioned to the men to go away, and, after a moment, 
 the pope gathered up the dead body in his arms and 
 without a thought for me or the blood that smeared his 
 clothes, carried it inside and out of sight into his own 
 room.
 
 316 The Way of the North 
 
 Some time between that and the next night he gave It 
 burial in the yard behind the house, but he chose a 
 time for doing it when he was all alone. Either his 
 grief was too sacred to admit of being shared, or the 
 bitterness within him prompted him to hold the memory 
 entirely to himself, for with this last expression of his 
 love he brought the matter to an end. From that time 
 there was no mention of it between us, either by act or 
 word. I did not question him and he vouchsafed to 
 me no exposition of his thought. 
 
 But the sting of his grievance stayed with him and 
 rankled in his heart. He grew visibly older and more 
 stooped and was infirm in his temper at unexpected 
 times. So strongly did this spirit grow upon him that 
 in the end I found it hard to meet him with the old 
 frankness in our daily life and, as a result, the lack 
 and its accompanying need to round out elsewhere my 
 uneven store of peace, did much to take me away from 
 him and his affairs and turn me to the thought of 
 Anna Gregorovna and what I might expect of future 
 happiness at her hands. 
 
 Not that she was not already in my mind. There 
 was no minute passed that did not find her as an under 
 current in my thought. But I had wisely settled with 
 myself that it was best to withhold advances till the 
 shock of Alexei Yegorovitch s death had worn away, 
 and so I had been little in her company. 
 
 From the date of my home coming to the time 
 the accident occurred I had had no speech with 
 her at all. The lieutenant s unhappy end wiped 
 out for the moment the record of his lapse, and she 
 stood as mourner for him at the burial with all the 
 proper form. But afterwards I had held the hope that
 
 The Way of the North 317 
 
 when I met her she would give to me some word in 
 recognition of my claim. On the contrary, when the 
 meeting came, it went again and left no sign for me 
 beyond the smart that told that I at least had felt. 
 She let me come to her and was cheerful and demure, 
 and for a moment s space I held her hand. But at no 
 time in her manner was there the old heartiness and 
 warmth, and she let me go away with the bitter feeling 
 in my heart that she held me wholly outside her reserve. 
 So disturbed was I by these things which had occurred 
 that I could not keep the matter to myself and went to 
 Peter Nicolaievitch for advice. 
 
 "Let her alone," he said, "and she will be all right. 
 She knows she can have you any time she wants, and 
 she does not know you heard the quarrel with Alexei 
 Yegorovitch on that last night. What she is doing is 
 saving her reputation for constancy at the expense of 
 her love, and when she has allowed a proper margin for 
 propriety, I ll stake my head that she will let you know. 
 But in the meantime, take her strictly at her word." 
 
 The advice was good, and though at times it strained 
 me almost to the breaking point, I have followed it 
 religiously until this time. I have met her frankly and 
 without constraint and have been properly assiduous 
 in her care, but never by word or look have I come 
 across the line of ordinary fellowship, and have made 
 no sign that I was holding her as needful in my life. 
 
 It has been a long wait I have had for the word to 
 come from her and I have spent much time in speculation 
 as to in what way I might reasonably look for it to 
 come. At first there was that in her observation of 
 my conduct which was very near surprise, but I think 
 she was grateful that I saw and stood aside. Later the
 
 318 The Way of the North 
 
 surprise gave way to a look of puzzled inquiry and 1 
 think she wondered that I thus remained aloof. 
 
 With my mind once set upon this plan I would not 
 speak until I felt she gave to me some glimpse of her own 
 heart; and so I have stood stoutly out and let her see no 
 spark of all the fire that has been consuming me within. 
 Yet more than once I have been perilously near to speech, 
 and it was finally because within the week she has 
 drooped with some little sickness that I forswore myself 
 and made an end of my resolve. Seeing her pale dis 
 turbed me, so that my heart smote me that I had 
 thrown on her the burden of the choice, and I suddenly 
 determined to wait no longer, but do my speaking and 
 throw myself at once upon the fortune of the chance. 
 
 It was this morning, therefore, with intention, that I 
 stood outside the stockade and waited till she came out 
 for her daily morning walk. She did not see me and 
 I did not speak, but lagging behind, I followed her as 
 she went out across the village and took the path that 
 led to the great hill behind the post. It was a favourite 
 walk of hers and I knew where I should find her at the 
 end, so I curbed my haste and contented myself with 
 the occasional glimpse of her that came to me as she 
 passed some sunny spot between the trees. 
 
 When I did come upon her, she was standing at the 
 lookout station at the top and gazing westward out 
 across the sea. The fog was low and lay like a fleecy 
 blanket as far as the eye could reach; and beyond the 
 mouth of the inlet, where the hills on the northern 
 point stood out like green islands above the sea of mist, 
 I saw, distinct and clear, the three masts of a ship. 
 
 It was this she was watching and so intent was she 
 upon the view, that she did not hear me until I was
 
 The Way of the North 319 
 
 fairly at her side. Then she caught the sound of my 
 footsteps and looked hastily around and as she faced 
 me I saw that her eyes were full of tears. She put out 
 her hand to me without surprise and almost as if she 
 had expected me to come. 
 
 "See the ship, Fedor Kirilovitch," she said with her 
 emotion trembling in her voice. "It is the Ekaterina 
 that brought us here six months ago. They told me 
 below that I could see it from this point. It is the first 
 time since our bringing that she has come back." I 
 took the hand she offered and held it as we stood to 
 look. It seemed so natural a thing to stand there with 
 her that it did not come to me to be even astonished 
 or afraid. 
 
 " Is the ship, then, so bitter a memory that the thought 
 of it still brings the tears?" I said, keeping my eyes 
 from her and looking out across the sea. She shook her 
 head sharply as if to rid herself of the troubles that lay 
 behind her gaze and turned her face wistfully up to mine. 
 
 "It is a bit of homesickness, I suppose," she said 
 tremulously. " I w r as thinking of the things I had then 
 that have vanished for me now, and such memories are 
 always sorry things." 
 
 "You have lost much," I assented and took tighter 
 hold upon her hand. 
 
 "But it is not all bad," she added earnestly. "This 
 at least has come to me out of my trouble, that I shall 
 always have you as a friend." 
 
 "And only as a friend?" I asked, my courage 
 rising with her kindly words. She did not immediately 
 answer but looked again steadily out across the sea. 
 When she did turn back to me, her eyes were once more 
 brimming with her tears.
 
 320 The Way of the North 
 
 "Why should you want me, Fedor," she said humbly, 
 "knowing what I have been to Alexei Yegorovitch and 
 having between us the shadow of his love ? " 
 
 "Alexei Yegorovitch is dead," I answered stoutly, 
 "and there is no dishonour in standing in his shoes. I 
 do want you with my whole heart and if I find no bar 
 in what has passed, it seems to me the matter should not 
 count with you. When it all happened you were very 
 young, and, besides, from the time we were on the ship, 
 I do not believe you have loved anyone but me." 
 
 "Perhaps," she answered softly. "I know for a long 
 time my conscience never gave me any peace." I drew 
 her round so she faced me and took her other hand. 
 
 "Anna," I said, "do you remember that of your own 
 free will you gave to me the promise that whatever 
 came to you in life, I should always have a place upon 
 your hearth?" She listened passively with her eyes 
 bent down. 
 
 "Yes," she said. 
 
 "And would you break that promise now, simply 
 because the providing of the hearth must fall to me? 
 There is no other way the promise can be kept." She 
 hesitated just a moment in some last struggle with her 
 self, but when she looked up at me there was a full 
 surrender in her eyes. 
 
 "You know I would not, Fedor," she said, lifting 
 up her face, and in another moment I had her in my 
 arms.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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