By Francis Sullivan 
 
 Children of Banishment 
 Star of the North
 
 ' Just as when he had met her first she seemed to embody the spirit of 
 
 the green, wild places, so now she symbolized the soul of the 
 
 frozen wilderness." 
 
 Drawn by D. C. Hutchison. 
 
 (Puge //y)
 
 Star of the North 
 
 By 
 
 Francis William Sullivan 
 
 Author of "Alloy of Gold" "Children of Banishment," etc. 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
 New York and London 
 fmfcfcerbocfcer press 
 1916
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1916 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS WILLIAM SULLIVAN 
 Second Impression 
 
 Ube ftnicfterbocfeer press, mew gorft
 
 SO 
 ROBERT H. DAVIS 
 
 FIELD MARSHAL OF FICTION 
 FROM A SUBALTERN 
 
 22290S7
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. LOST AND FOUND i 
 
 II. A DAUGHTER OF THE WILD . . n 
 
 III. TEMPLE GETS A LETTER . . 20 
 
 IV. A CLASH . 35 
 
 V. BAILLIE SETS TO WORK . .46 
 
 VI. A REVELATION .... 60 
 
 VII. A "CUT-BACK" TO MANHATTAN . 79 
 
 VIII. BETWEEN Two FIRES ... 89 
 
 IX. A TEST 98 
 
 X. BAILLIE PLAYS His TRUMPS . 112 
 
 XI. THE RECKONING . . . 128 
 
 XII. TRANSITION 143 
 
 XIII. BAILLIE MAKES A DISCOVERY . 158 
 
 XIV. BAD NEWS 172 
 
 XV. REALIZATION . . . .188 
 
 XVI. ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM . 198
 
 vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 XVII. CONFLICT 212 
 
 XVIII. REPRISAL 228 
 
 XIX. COMPENSATION .... 242 
 
 XX. THE WORM TURNS . . .254 
 
 XXI. AN UNWELCOME GUEST . . 272 
 
 XXII. THE FIRST STOP . . . .286 
 
 XXIII. LOVE WATCHES .... 295 
 
 XXIV. THE BITTER TRAIL . .308 
 
 XXV. TRAILS CROSS . . . ." 323 
 
 XXVI. SEVERED BONDS .... 338 
 
 XXVII. REQUIESCAT .... 353 
 
 XXVIII. FACING FORWARD . . . 361
 
 Star of the North
 
 Star of the North 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LOST AND FOUND 
 
 A T the director's sharp bark of disapproval, 
 Paul Temple, who commanded more 
 film footage and salary than any young man 
 in the movie business, stepped back from the 
 clutch of the leading lady. It was the second 
 time Tom Briscoe had barked at this scene, 
 and it was plain that the field marshal of the 
 Graphic forces was annoyed. He sat down in 
 despair on a fallen tree, and the whole com- 
 pany waited in expectant silence. 
 
 The scene was redolent of the north country 
 it was set in. Two buckskin tepees, a smoking 
 fire, and the usual details of a small Indian 
 encampment, stood out vividly in the sunlight 
 against a dark-green background of virgin
 
 2 Star of the North 
 
 forest. And it was virgin forest. The Graphic 
 Company was filming this multiple-reeler a 
 hundred miles from the northern terminus of 
 the railroad, and not so far south of the oft- 
 quoted "53." 
 
 Briscoe raised a face of martyr-like patience 
 and addressed Marguerite French, the leading 
 lady who, garbed as an Indian maiden, stood 
 in the camera's eye. 
 
 "No, French, that won't do," he explained, 
 with the sweetness of despair. "This isn't 
 Fifth Avenue, and you're not welcoming your 
 long-lost lover in a drawing-room. That 
 1 Oh, Gawge! ' you pulled would have registered 
 in a blind asylum. You're an Indian girl and 
 you're bang up against the fact that the man 
 you love has just come North after a long 
 absence with a beautiful white wife. " 
 
 He bounded up off the log and went forward 
 with quick, short steps. Temple, a big, 
 virile-looking man of thirty, with a kindly and 
 rugged rather than handsome face, had drawn 
 aside and was chatting with good-tempered 
 Elsie Tanner, his picture "wife. "
 
 Lost and Found 3 
 
 The leading woman pouted and stamped her 
 foot furiously, to a clicking accompaniment 
 of porcupine quills on her buckskin Indian 
 dress. She was of medium height with a good 
 ''taking" face of conventional prettiness, and 
 a decided temperament. Now her popular 
 blonde tresses were covered with a coarse 
 wig of black hair bound with a beaded fillet. 
 
 "Good heavens, Mr. Briscoe, how am I to 
 know what you want!" she exclaimed angrily, 
 "I can't dream it." 
 
 Briscoe, in whose side she was a continual 
 thorn, restrained himself. He had to. The 
 outlay for this picture, for the support of the 
 great camp a mile away in the heart of the 
 Canadian wilderness, and the scenes already 
 filmed, made a row with the leading woman 
 at this juncture impossible. 
 
 Temple sensed the highly charged state of 
 the atmosphere and interposed. He turned 
 to Miss French with an almost boyish smile 
 that belied somewhat the faint look of care 
 across his eyes and the lines about his mouth. 
 
 "Suppose we have Tom go through the
 
 4 Star of the North 
 
 action for us, " he suggested. "I wasn't quite 
 sure of it myself. " 
 
 The young woman agreed ungraciously, and 
 Briscoe burst into new life. 
 
 "Right-O!" he shouted, and jumped for- 
 ward, taking a stand in the doorway of the 
 middle tepee. "I'm Na-shi-go the princess, 
 and you've just come back North with your 
 white wife, Paul. Now Elsie " to the " wife " 
 " I want you to register a little more disgust 
 at the apparent dirt and squalor of the 
 Indian camp. This is the first time you've 
 ever been in the woods, you know; your new 
 sporting store clothes show that. All right, 
 come ahead. " 
 
 Tom Briscoe was not a director by chance. 
 Before he had finished with the princess 
 and her emotions the entire company was 
 watching him fascinated, forgetful of his 
 chunky body, big round head, and short 
 legs. 
 
 "Got me, French?" he asked, bounding 
 away to his place behind Gene Perkins at the 
 camera, a lanky man who ground miles of
 
 film with consistent melancholy. "Now go 
 through it." 
 
 Somewhat humbled, the young woman 
 rehearsed the scene creditably. 
 
 ' ' All right, ' ' snapped Briscoe. ' ' Now again, 
 and this time for blood. Camera, Gene. " 
 
 The minor character men and women 
 commenced their business, the camera clicked, 
 and the scene proceeded without a hitch. 
 
 ' ' Fine ! Now next scene. ' ' Briscoe whipped 
 over the pages of his script. "French and 
 Tanner. Temple, I'm through with you for 
 this morning, and you, Walsh, and you and 
 you," pointing out minor people. "Re- 
 member, water stuff this afternoon." 
 
 Paul Temple filled his pipe slowly as for 
 a few moments he watched the preparations. 
 Then he turned away and strolled back along 
 the plainly marked trail towards camp. The 
 forest was first growth timber of black spruce, 
 balsam, birch, and tamarack, with a fairly 
 thick undergrowth of hazel and blackberry, 
 and now under the hot August sun it was 
 sweet with piny odours.
 
 6 Star of the North 
 
 There was in the peace of the untrammelled 
 wild a sense of brooding immensity that awed 
 him, for he was still new to it all. Crows cawed 
 and fought among the tree-tops, and red 
 squirrels chattered at him as he passed. A 
 porcupine scuttled across the trail. 
 
 But now, alone, a change had come over 
 Temple. The cheery exuberance that had 
 characterized him among the others was gone, 
 and his face had settled into lines of weariness, 
 almost of pain. He had the look of one from 
 whom a mask is removed. 
 
 For a few moments he walked in heavy 
 thought. Then he brushed his hand across his 
 eyes as if dispelling an ugly vision, and forced 
 his thoughts back to his work. 
 
 Not since his first part three years ago had 
 he enjoyed anything as he enjoyed the making 
 of this picture, "Wilderness Idyl. " Here was 
 realism with a vengeance. The word had gone 
 forth to "get the stuff, " and the stuff was be- 
 ing got. It was a fortnight since the Graphics 
 had left the last outpost of the railroad, and 
 snow would fly before they saw it again.
 
 Lost and Found 7 
 
 As Temple walked softly along in his high, 
 oil-tanned shoepacks, he saw off to the right 
 of the trail a low, bare-topped hill which 
 immediately suggested itself as a "location." 
 There was to be an Indian council scene in the 
 picture, he knew, and it occurred to him that 
 this might do to stage it. 
 
 Turning off the trail he pushed his way 
 through the screen of hazel bushes towards the 
 hill. Sharp outcroppings of grey rock and 
 wind-fallen trees forced him to take a devious 
 course, and it was half an hour before he 
 reached the wind-swept summit. 
 
 It was all he had desired, however, and as he 
 plunged down into the forest again, he thought 
 of Briscoe's satisfaction. For a long while 
 he walked, and then, puzzled at not having 
 struck the trail again, halted. To get his 
 bearings he looked back towards the hill 
 from which he had started, but this was now 
 blocked from view by a lesser height he had 
 circled. 
 
 For a moment he was at a loss. Then he 
 recalled the historic advice to green woodsmen.
 
 8 Star of the North 
 
 "I must keep to the left," he thought. 
 "I've probably been making a circle. " 
 
 He plunged on again, bearing always to the 
 left, but after half an hour of rough going he 
 again halted. He had not crossed the trail 
 nor seen any sign of it. An unpleasant con- 
 viction that he was lost forced itself on him. 
 
 "Steady now," he told himself, "don't get 
 excited, " and tried to think what to do. 
 
 But nothing suggested itself. All about the 
 inscrutable forest seemed silent as if watching 
 him. The romance was gone from it now. It 
 seemed a grim, relentless thing, a great web 
 in which he was entangled. 
 
 Because motion was a relief, he plunged on. 
 His felt hat was in his hand, and his flannel 
 shirt was torn where thorns had plucked at it. 
 He was ravenously hungry, and from the 
 length of his wanderings he knew that it must 
 be past noon. He tried to get his bearings 
 from the sun, but doubted his own judgment. 
 He was thoroughly bewildered. 
 
 Then the constantly recurring belief that 
 the camp must be just a little farther, drove
 
 Lost and Found 9 
 
 him on, in a last effort. But the fastnesses 
 seemed only to draw more bafflingly close 
 about him. 
 
 He was fingering the revolver in his holster 
 with the idea of firing it to attract attention, 
 when he heard the rushing of water and went 
 towards it. The camp was on a river, and he 
 thought that this might be the stream. 
 
 Parting the bushes on the steep bank, he 
 looked down and stood riveted with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 In the stony shallows at the edge of the 
 rushing brook stood a girl, fishing. Her skirts 
 were pinned up well above her knees and 
 revealed black hip boots. Beside her on the 
 rocks lay a felt hat in which was stuck a little 
 strawberry-coloured feather from a pine gros- 
 beak's plumage, and next it, a wicker ham- 
 per. Now as he watched she whipped her line 
 back and forth with swift, lithe motions, 
 and cast deftly into a pool on the opposite 
 side. 
 
 Temple stood breathing heavily for a 
 moment, the overwhelming surge of his relief
 
 io Star of the North 
 
 measuring the fear he had not dared admit 
 before. Then weary, dripping, scratched, and 
 torn, he started down the bank towards 
 her.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE WILD 
 
 OO loud was the chatter of the stream that 
 she did not hear him until the stones at 
 the water's edge crunched beneath his feet. 
 She was reeling in her line, but at the sound 
 she whirled to face him as by one swift 
 movement. 
 
 "I beg your pardon for startling you," said 
 Temple, a sorry-looking object, "but I never 
 was so glad to see anybody in my life. " 
 
 She examined him fearlessly with clear, 
 dark eyes heavily fringed with long lashes, 
 apparently blissfully unaware of the state of 
 her unconventional nether garments. Her 
 blue flannel shirt was open at the throat, and 
 her sleeves rolled up. 
 
 "I thought you were a bear," she said 
 slowly, "but you're a man !" Her curiosity 
 
 XI
 
 12 Star of the North 
 
 was childlike. "I didn't know there were any 
 strangers in this country. Are you packing 
 through?" 
 
 He laughed a little sheepishly. 
 
 "Well, not exactly. I'm I'm lost and I'm 
 terribly hungry." 
 
 "Oh!" Her small, red mouth seemed, in 
 the forming of the exclamation, as inquisitive 
 as her eyes. "I wondered where your duffle 
 was. Do you mean you're a tourist up for the 
 fishing? It isn't much good now. " 
 
 Her voice was clear and cool like the water 
 of the stream at her feet. Temple struggled 
 vainly to accustom himself to her heaven-sent 
 presence in this howling wilderness. 
 
 "No, " he admitted again, "not that, either. 
 I'm with a moving-picture company and we're 
 taking a big feature film up here so as to have 
 the atmosphere correct. I left the trail to 
 examine a location and got lost in the 'at- 
 mosphere,' ' 
 
 Her big eyes studied him gravely as she 
 finished reeling her line. 
 
 "I don't understand a thing you're talking
 
 A Daughter of the Wild 13 
 
 about," she said coolly, "but " with a keen 
 appraising glance at his condition "you're 
 in bad shape and you said you were hungry, 
 so I guess we'd better go home. " 
 
 ' ' Home ! Do you live here, Miss ? " 
 
 "June Magregor is my name, and of course 
 I live here. I've lived here all my life. I'm 
 so sorry father is away he's the factor at the 
 Post, you know because he always likes to 
 talk with strangers. We haven't seen a real 
 stranger like you for almost two years. " 
 
 Temple couldn't resist the opportunity. 
 
 "I hope I shan't always be as much of a 
 stranger as I am now." His quick smile 
 revealed teeth even and very white against his 
 deep tan. 
 
 "Oh, so do I! You're so different from 
 anybody I've met. And now will you turn 
 around, please? I must get my boots off. " 
 
 Delighted by an ingenuousness as fresh as 
 the air he breathed, Temple smiled and 
 presented his back. There was a minute or 
 two of scuffling among the stones. 
 
 "Now I'm ready," she announced serenely,
 
 14 Star of the North 
 
 and he turned to find her in high-laced 
 moccasins, her skirt let down. She glanced 
 at the sun swiftly. "It's late quarter of two 
 at least and we must hurry. " 
 
 Temple pulled out his watch. It was 
 seventeen minutes of the hour. 
 
 With swift, deft hands the girl packed her 
 boots and paraphernalia into the hamper on 
 the ground, and with one strong motion of her 
 body swung it up to her shoulder. 
 
 "Oh, please " he sprang forward. "I'll 
 take that. " 
 
 "Why?" she asked, frankly curious. "I 
 always carry it. Besides "' with another 
 appraisal of his condition "I don't think 
 you're up to it. You'd better let me go ahead. 
 There isn't any trail." She turned up the 
 bank. 
 
 Stung in every inch of his six feet of man- 
 hood, Temple followed in chagrined silence. 
 But he had not gone two hundred yards before 
 his mood changed to one of thankfulness. 
 Stumbling over stones and roots with the 
 clumsy feet of inexperience, he found himself
 
 A Daughter of the Wild 15 
 
 hard pressed to keep up with her. She walked 
 with the springy, sure-footed stride of an 
 Indian, and a free undulating motion that 
 covered an amazing amount of ground. 
 
 There was no semblance of a trail, and yet 
 she went on confidently only now and then 
 glancing at the sun over her shoulder. 
 
 Temple was humble and "exhausted, and 
 ready to cry quits when at last she broke 
 through the underbrush into a clearing and 
 turned to wait for him. 
 
 "This is the Post, Fort McLeod of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company," she told him 
 proudly. 
 
 Temple saw a group of five or six log build- 
 ings in a sheltered, untimbered hollow several 
 acres in extent. Two of them were large, 
 apparently a dwelling and storehouse, and 
 were flanked by the others. Acrid yellow 
 wood smoke was drifting from the chimney of 
 the dwelling. 
 
 On the opposite side of the clearing stood 
 three large Indian tepees, their dirty-looking 
 occupants squatted about fires. At sight of the
 
 16 Star of the North 
 
 newcomers a number of half-starved husky 
 dogs lifted their pointed noses into the air and 
 howled. 
 
 "These people are the last of the summer 
 encampment," explained the girl. "The 
 rest have gone back to their hunting and 
 trapping grounds. " 
 
 She led the way towards the house. 
 
 "And this is where you live all the time?" 
 Temple asked incredulously. " Don't you get 
 horribly lonely?" 
 
 She laughed a gay, silvery laugh. 
 
 "Lonely? Why, how can I be, with the 
 sewing and housekeeping for father, and hunt- 
 ing and fishing and trapping? Why, I got a 
 hundred fox skins from my own trap line last 
 winter. " 
 
 Temple's ingrained Gotham superiority 
 dwindled to the vanishing point as his wonder 
 grew. Put her anywhere in the world, he 
 thought, and she could take care of herself. 
 Put him ten yards off the trail and he would 
 starve to death. 
 
 In front of the house he noticed for the first
 
 A Daughter of the Wild 17 
 
 time that the clearing ran down and ended at 
 the bluff-like bank of a broad river. 
 
 "Is that the Onipee?" he asked excitedly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then I'm lost no longer," he cheered. 
 "Our camp is on that river. " 
 
 "Up or down stream." 
 
 He had boggled his approach but he re- 
 covered quickly. 
 
 "The direction is a mere trifle, " he grinned 
 amiably. ' ' The important thing is that I have 
 found the river." 
 
 She sniffed at his evasion. "You're up- 
 stream. That explains the extraordinary 
 things I've seen floating by for the last week. 
 After lunch I'll paddle you up," Temple 
 squirmed "but now won't you come in 
 Mr. " 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Temple, Paul Temple 
 is my name. " 
 
 "Won't you come in, Mr. Temple? I know 
 you're starving. " 
 
 He obeyed with alacrity, and as he removed 
 the stains of his hard morning in the factor's
 
 i8 Star of the North 
 
 own bedroom a place of thick beams, rifles, 
 and huge account books he thought of her 
 with wonder, so like a great breath of the 
 piny air was she, wholesome, sweet, and clean. 
 
 Something strong and vital in him stirred 
 as if from long sleep in response to her primi- 
 tive appeal. After the stifling atmosphere 
 surrounding the women he had known, her 
 wind-swept freshness was bracing, and her 
 virginal innocence of men a delight. 
 
 Fear seemed not to be in her. Not even at 
 the moment of his surprising her by the brook 
 had he detected it in her eyes. 
 
 A man's woman! he thought, and then, at 
 the thought, another thought came, and 
 suddenly the exhilaration died out of his face 
 and left it set in the lines of pain that had 
 marked it in the morning. 
 
 But again, as he had done then, he brushed 
 the thing that haunted him aside, and with a 
 last rueful inspection of himself in the glass, 
 summoned the gaiety of spirits that all the 
 world knew and loved, and went out to meet 
 his strange hostess. Remembering his posi-
 
 A Daughter of the Wild 19 
 
 tion in his own world, he laughed inwardly 
 at this new r61e of the greenest, humblest, 
 and most helpless tenderfoot that had ever 
 blundered off a trail. 
 
 But he had to admit that he had earned it.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TEMPLE GETS A LETTER 
 
 TUNE, who had changed to a becoming 
 blue woollen dress that admirably sug- 
 gested her lithe, young figure, was waiting 
 for him in the trophy-hung living room, 
 and at once led the way to luncheon. 
 
 Temple's impressions were brief but satisfy- 
 ing. Everywhere were such comfort and 
 luxury as environment and circumstances 
 permitted, all heightened by unerring taste; 
 heavy, handmade furniture, many rugs of 
 wild animal skins, rows of books along the 
 wall. All made clear to Temple the girl's 
 previously inexplicable refinement. 
 
 At the table she seemed a different creature 
 from the unconcernedly booted fisherwoman 
 who had rescued him. Without losing any of 
 her naive simplicity and charm, she yet filled 
 
 20
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 21 
 
 this more difficult office with easy skill. And 
 pondering on this, Temple glimpsed vaguely 
 the centuries of good breeding and hospitality 
 that distinguish even the loneliest posts of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company. 
 
 "Please let's eat first and talk afterwards," 
 she said tactfully, "I'm simply famished." 
 
 He looked whimsical gratitude and put his 
 finger on his lips as the golden glory of broiled 
 brook trout was set before him. It was a 
 moment for feeling rather than speech. A 
 stout, wrinkled Indian squaw dressed in bright 
 calico served them. 
 
 For a time they ate in silence, and finally 
 sighed blissfully together. Then they laughed. 
 
 "May I speak? " he begged. " If I go on this 
 way I'll be past the point." 
 
 "Yes." She pushed back in her father's 
 massive arm-chair, seeming half lost in its 
 masculine width. 
 
 "I'm frightfully curious, but when you 
 spoke to that squaw did you talk to her in her 
 own language?" 
 
 "Yes, Ojibway. Old Maria was my nurse
 
 22 Star of the North 
 
 after my mother died, so you see I grew up 
 speaking it. We used to be at Fort McKinnon 
 on Hudson's Bay, but after I had finished 
 mission school there father came inland to get 
 away from the salt water, and Maria came 
 with us." 
 
 "And you're not uneasy here alone when 
 your father is gone?" he asked, thinking of 
 the women he knew. 
 
 "No. Why should I be?" She was hon- 
 estly curious. "I camp all over the place 
 alone winter and summer. But," with the 
 eager inquisitiveness of a child "let's not 
 talk about me; let's talk about you. Tell me 
 again what you are doing up here. I didn't 
 understand you at all. What is a moving 
 picture?" 
 
 Temple's gay laugh rang out in the low, 
 beamed room. 
 
 "A moving picture is a punishment in- 
 flicted on theatrical managers " he began, 
 and then stopped, shaking his head. "But 
 no, I'll be serious. This is what it is," and, 
 with the combined enthusiasm of a missionary
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 23 
 
 and an artist, he explained the wonderful 
 thing, watching with enjoyment her half- 
 bewildered interest. 
 
 And gradually as he talked, their positions 
 of the morning were reversed. She was as 
 much at a loss in the environment he created 
 for her as he had been in her forests. 
 
 "You shall see a movie, " he declared at the 
 end, "if I have to send to New York for one." 
 
 She clapped her hands. 
 
 "Oh, really? How good you are!" 
 
 "Didn't you save my life?" his white teeth 
 flashed. 
 
 "Did I? Anyway I'd have made you come 
 with me. When we see a stranger we bag him 
 and bring him home. " 
 
 "And you said you weren't lonely!" 
 
 "Well, one gets tired of half-breeds and 
 trappers, sometimes." 
 
 "Don't you ever see any white men?" 
 
 "Oh, once in a long while when tourists or 
 hunters go through. And in the spring when 
 the brigade is ready to start for the Bay with 
 the furs our Indians have trapped during the
 
 24 Star of the North 
 
 winter. But they're usually men as old as 
 father." 
 
 "I see. In the spring a young girl's fancy 
 eh?" 
 
 She wrinkled her nose disrespectfully. 
 
 "What on earth did Tennyson mean by 
 that? Poets never seem to think of anything 
 else much but love, do they? In the spring 
 my thoughts turn to early fishing and the 
 vegetable garden and the departure of the 
 brigade." 
 
 "Oh ... I see." Her words by some 
 strange twist, touched a deep well of emotion 
 in him. Somehow at that moment she made 
 him think of dawn across a meadow or little 
 children singing. 
 
 "Love," he said with a half -wry smile, "is 
 something that explains itself, but which no 
 one else can explain." 
 
 "Have you been in love?" It was the 
 curious child again. 
 
 She saw a swift shadow cross his face, but 
 the sun followed it. 
 
 "A moving picture actor has been every-
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 25 
 
 where," he said; and then as if a sudden 
 thought had occurred to him: "And by Jove, 
 that reminds me! I'll bet they've got search 
 parties out from the camp trying to find me. 
 I never thought of it before. And oh, Mama! 
 I've broken up the water stuff we were going 
 to take this afternoon, and with this good 
 shooting light Tom Briscoe will tear out his 
 hair in handfuls!" 
 
 A look of puzzlement had crossed her face, 
 but now it cleared. 
 
 "Oh, you can't go shooting now," she 
 warned him gravely. "Nothing is really very 
 good to eat yet, you know. " 
 
 He laughed out. 
 
 "Of course, I forgot. By 'shoot' I meant 
 take pictures. " 
 
 "O oh!" A moment of silent thought. 
 "And does fishing mean something else, too?" 
 
 "It does since I have seen you do it. " 
 
 "Oh, how nice!" Her vivid face coloured 
 with pleasure. They had finished some time 
 since, and now she rose. "I suppose we had 
 better go if your people will be anxious."
 
 26 Star of the North 
 
 Getting their hats they started at once for 
 the river. The bank at this point was steep 
 and some thirty feet high, and bore near its 
 top the marks left by the ice of the spring 
 freshets. The two followed a narrow precipi- 
 tous path to the water's edge, a little crescent 
 of beach where several canoes were drawn up. 
 
 The girl indicated her choice, and together 
 they hauled it to the water. 
 
 "Can you paddle?" she asked with a frank 
 distrust of his accomplishments that amused 
 him. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he said truthfully, and held the 
 canoe steady. She leaped in sure-footedly and 
 ran to her place in the bow. 
 
 "Keep inshore," she warned him as he 
 pushed off; "it's much easier in the eddies 
 between the points of land." And he felt 
 again her mastery over him in this mysterious, 
 outdoor world of hers. 
 
 But now his dependence seemed no longer 
 a humiliation but an inexplicably sweet thing. 
 
 It was a two-mile paddle before, rounding a 
 stony point, they came upon the first view of
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 27 
 
 the Graphic camp a cluster of white tents in 
 a green hollow between two hills on the left 
 bank. 
 
 June gave a little exclamation of surprise 
 and stopped paddling. 
 
 "Oh, it's a big camp ! You didn't tell me it 
 was so big!" 
 
 "Fifty people counting guides and cooks. " 
 
 "But what about supplies?" she asked, a 
 little bewildered. It was her first experience 
 with the dare-all, do-all, of the film world, 
 and reason told her that, by all the laws of 
 nature and experience this was a foolhardy 
 expedition. 
 
 "Oh, that's done up at the other end," he 
 told her. "They haul the stuff by team from 
 the railroad to the headwaters of the Onipee, 
 and send it the rest of the way by river. See, 
 there are two scows at the wharf now that 
 weren't there this morning." 
 
 They were within a few hundred yards now 
 and the activity of unloading was very plain. 
 Also a number of completed shacks detached 
 themselves from among the tent colony, and
 
 28 Star of the North 
 
 the sound of hammering told of others under 
 construction. June asked him about these. 
 
 "They say it will be cold for the women 
 our women," he added hastily "to live in 
 tents in another month, so we're getting up 
 the shacks. We're going to wait for winter, 
 you know, to get snow pictures." 
 
 Suddenly there was a white puff of smoke 
 against the green background ashore followed 
 by the report of a revolver, and in a moment 
 men and women appeared as if by magic, 
 their white dots of faces turned in Temple's 
 direction. 
 
 "By George, they are hunting for me," he 
 said, and snatching off his felt hat waved it in 
 great circles about his head. An instant later 
 a howl of joy floated to him across the water, 
 and the crowd commenced streaming down 
 to the pier. 
 
 But now that he was safe, the remarks that 
 reached him, as he drew close in, were far from 
 sad or sentimental. 
 
 "Hey, Paul, Tom was askin' about you. " 
 
 "Yeah, with a gun in each hand. "
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 29 
 
 "You will waste daylight, eh? Fifty dollars 
 fine for yours." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you not to go anywhere 
 without me, infant?" 
 
 "Potted plant 'atmosphere' for you after 
 this." 
 
 Paul grinned cheerfully. Beneath the chaff 
 he felt the relief and real pleasure at his return. 
 
 As he stepped out on the pier he was over- 
 whelmed, and for a minute was busy with his 
 tormentors. Then another gun on one of the 
 hills was fired, 
 
 "Calling back the search parties to make up 
 your firing squad, Temp, " drawled a languid- 
 looking, handsome youth who wore a bright- 
 patterned mackinaw and high yellow boots, 
 and was smoking a cigarette. "But say," 
 with an interested glance at June, "how do 
 you do it, Paul? I think I'll get lost myself. " 
 
 "Quite useless now," Temple returned 
 blandly, but without warmth. He had been 
 anticipating this development ever since sight- 
 ing Jack Baillie, the Graphic's favourite 
 "juvenile" on the pier. Then he turned to
 
 30 Star of the North 
 
 June whom he had purposely left in the back- 
 ground for a moment, and held out his hand 
 to her. 
 
 Her fingers barely brushed his as she sprang 
 lightly ashore. She gravely acknowledged the 
 introductions, and presently the whole group 
 moved slowly from the wharf to the bank and 
 up towards the tent colony while Temple 
 narrated his adventures. 
 
 But his audience was small. June was the 
 centre of attraction. Elsie Tanner, with char- 
 acteristic warm-heartedness, had promptly 
 attached herself to the girl, and Jack Baillie 
 had usurped her other side, and was talking to 
 her in a low voice with a cool assumption of 
 intimacy that annoyed Temple. 
 
 As the crowd reached the strip of grass 
 which bisected the camp, and which a painted 
 board proclaimed as "Broadway," there was 
 a whoop from the nearby woods, and Tom 
 Briscoe bounced out through the underbrush 
 holding in each hand a large black revolver 
 with which he had been signalling through 
 the forest.
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 31 
 
 At sight of Temple he stopped abruptly and 
 rested his fists on his hips, the artillery jutting 
 out behind him. Then he nodded his head 
 slowly. 
 
 "Did hims little Paul run away from hims 
 nurse and get lost in the woods?" he inquired 
 withenngly. " You poor boob ! You're fined 
 a hundred thousand dollars! That's what 
 you've cost me mentally today. " 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry, really, Tom. But I 
 brought home two of the grandest locations 
 you ever heard of. " 
 
 " Locations !" babbled Briscoe. "Ha, ha! 
 I suppose you want to take me out to look at 
 them! Ha, ha! Suicide! Not much. The 
 company can spare you but not me. Ass!" 
 And he went off to his tent. 
 
 But Temple was not cast down. He had 
 felt the relief and forgiveness beneath the rasp 
 of the little man's tongue. And he did have 
 the locations! 
 
 At this juncture a youth who was employed 
 in the administrative department of the camp 
 (already housed in a large log shack), ap-
 
 32 Star of the North 
 
 preached Temple with a bundle of letters and 
 papers in his hand. 
 
 "Mail arrived today, sir," he said respect- 
 fully, and handed over the bundle. A ten-day 
 mail service from the railroad terminus was 
 the first thing Briscoe had instituted. 
 
 "Oh, fine! I'd forgotten. And thanks." 
 Temple turned to June. 
 
 "You'll forgive me if I read my mail?" he 
 said. " I know I'm leaving you in good hands." 
 
 The girl did not hear him, so attentively 
 was she listening to Baillie, and Temple 
 accepted her absorption in lieu of dismissal, 
 and walked away, his brow clouded. He 
 would not have chosen Baillie as her com- 
 panion, but there was nothing to be done 
 about it. Moreover, another matter of im- 
 portance claimed his mind. 
 
 Had this mail brought a letter the letter? 
 
 Turning off Broadway to the left, he made 
 his way to the little tent he had the distinction 
 of occupying alone, and sat down on a camp- 
 stool. 
 
 It was a simple interior; a cot-bed on one
 
 Temple Gets a Letter 33 
 
 side, two trunks on the other, a packing box 
 with a wash bowl on it at the far end, and, 
 suspended above, a shaving glass. Worn 
 earth was underfoot. 
 
 Throwing the newspapers aside Temple 
 looked through the letters. 
 
 There were at least fifty of them, the 
 majority addressed in round feminine hand- 
 writing the effusions of callow girls and 
 romantically inclined women who had seen 
 him on the screen. He did not despise these. 
 Through them he was able to keep a finger on 
 the pulse of his public, and this alone made 
 worth while to him the enormous labour of 
 answering them. 
 
 He would read them all carefully, but not 
 now. He put them aside and looked through 
 the remainder, which comprised the usual 
 miscellany. And then he found what he 
 sought, a thick, scented lavender envelope 
 addressed sprawlingly in blue ink. 
 
 For a minute before opening it he sat silent, 
 brooding, his nostrils a little pinched. Then 
 he slit it and opened the pages. The letter
 
 34 Star of the North 
 
 was dated from his apartment on Riverside 
 Drive, New York City, and began: 
 
 "Paul: No, I shall not divorce you. You 
 can't fool me for a minute with your talk 
 about my ' happiness. ' Everybody knows that 
 French is crazy about you, and I suppose you 
 want to get rid of me so you can have her. 
 Well, there's nothing doing. I have suspected 
 you would try something like this for a long 
 while, but I won't stand for it. I am starting 
 for your camp as soon as I can get ready. 
 Perhaps you will like that, you and French ! 
 "Your wife, 
 
 "GERTRUDE."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A CLASH 
 
 T^EMPLE read the brief, brutal letter twice, 
 * letting each venomous word sink into 
 his brain. Then, silent, hurt, bitterly disap- 
 pointed, he sat staring straight before him, the 
 single sheet dangling from his fingers. 
 
 She would give him no divorce; she sus- 
 pected him of an infatuation for Marguerite 
 French ; was coming here to the camp. 
 
 It was a characteristic letter, selfish, jealous, 
 hateful. And it was Gertrude's answer to his 
 plea for freedom, his effort to end the miserable 
 mistake of their marriage, and rid himself of 
 a burden that, during these last months, had 
 grown almost intolerable. 
 
 He might have expected the refusal, he 
 thought, and the abuse, but this threatened 
 visit He glanced at the letter again. "I 
 
 35
 
 36 Star of the North 
 
 am starting for your camp as soon as I can 
 get ready. " The blood slowly mounted to his 
 face and his jaw set. No, she should not do 
 that ! He would telegraph her that 
 
 A moment's thought and he realized the 
 futility of that. Long before a message could 
 reach her from this isolated wilderness, she 
 would probably be on her way to him, and, 
 once she had started, protests would only 
 hurry her. 
 
 A feeling of utter hopelessness settled over 
 Paul. Always during the five years of their 
 married life it had been the same. She had 
 thwarted or resisted his every hope and 
 ambition. 
 
 Five years of it! He recalled as if it had 
 been yesterday their marriage in the Middle 
 West while members of the same theatrical 
 road company, and the struggle that had 
 begun upon their return to New York. Tem- 
 ple had wanted a home, but Gertrude's prefer- 
 ences lying in the opposite direction, she had 
 plunged into the gay night -life of the metropolis 
 leaving him to follow or not as he chose.
 
 A Clash 37 
 
 The next year she had refused to go with 
 him when he left for his season's work on the 
 road, and then when stories commenced to 
 follow him to the one-night stands in the 
 country he knew that the beginning of the 
 end had come. What the exact situation was 
 concerning certain men he never knew and 
 never tried to find out. But gradually as his 
 position grew more and more unendurable, his 
 feelings changed from love to dislike and then 
 to repugnance. 
 
 The following year witnessed his first ap- 
 pearance as a film actor and Gertrude's final 
 separation from him. Since then she had 
 remained immovably in New York, living on 
 the liberal allowance he made her, and appear- 
 ing in several small "legitimate" parts under 
 the stage name of Gertrude Mackay, by which 
 she was known. To further her freedom and 
 amusement she carefully concealed her mar- 
 riage, and Paul made no effort to reveal that 
 tragic chapter of his life. As a result the fact 
 was almost unsuspected. 
 
 Yet despite this status quo, what Paul had
 
 38 Star of the North 
 
 learned of his wife's behaviour during the last 
 six months had driven him to action, and in the 
 hope that she wished to marry again, he had 
 suggested that she take up residence in the 
 West and get a divorce. Her present letter 
 had been the reply, bewildering, contrary, and 
 savage. 
 
 Most brutal of all was her attack on Mar- 
 guerite French. He read the charge again: 
 "Everybody knows that French is crazy about 
 you, and I suppose you want to get rid of me 
 so you can have her. " 
 
 Poor, vain, misguided, spiteful creature! 
 Paul's anger gave way to a sort of pitying 
 contempt. He knew that public and studio 
 gossip linked his name with that of his leading 
 lady as always when two people worked 
 together for a year. But he also knew that 
 there was no truth in it. He neither loved 
 Miss French nor she him. 
 
 A feeling of rebellion at his fate began to stir 
 in Temple. Was he never to be free of this 
 incubus ? Was it to cling to him forever ? Five 
 years of it now and no hope of freedom in
 
 A Clash 39 
 
 sight. He couldn't endure much more. He 
 was young, vital, brimming with youth and 
 success, entering upon his best and most 
 productive years, and this thing dragged him 
 down like a millstone about his neck. Was 
 he never to have another chance? Was the 
 best and truest happiness to be denied him? 
 
 He had dreamed for years that somewhere, 
 sometime, he should meet the one girl in 
 the world who would embody everything for 
 which his starved being yearned, and to whom 
 he, too, would bring the greatest gift, and 
 sitting in his tent, the murmurous voice of the 
 great forest about him, he wondered if he had 
 found her today? 
 
 At the thought of June his heavy heart 
 thrilled with momentary gladness. He had 
 only just met her, yet some intangible quality 
 of hers had gone straight down to the very 
 centre of his soul, soothing and healing him 
 like the balm of her deep forests. Motherliness 
 was hers beneath the fresh girlhood ; comrade- 
 ship, innocence; the undestroyed illusion and 
 the unawakened response to love. After
 
 40 Star of the North 
 
 years of the sordid tragedy of Gertrude he 
 yearned for the wind-blown purity of June as 
 a thirsting man longs for water. 
 
 Suddenly he was roused from his long ab- 
 sorption by quick footsteps outside the tent, 
 and without as much as "by your leave," 
 the flap was thrown back and Jack Baillie 
 shouldered in. Startled by the unexpected 
 entrance, Temple's hand jerked and the letter 
 flew from it almost under Baillie's feet. 
 
 The latter stooped at once to pick it up. 
 
 "More gush from the dippy dames, eh," 
 he said, with a twinge of envy. His own mail 
 was very light. " Let's have a look at it. " 
 
 He dropped his eyes to the sheet but on the 
 instant Temple had leaped from the camp- 
 stool and crushed it in his hand. "Forget 
 that, Jack," he said, sharply, as he took the 
 letter. 
 
 "Oho!" cried Baillie, half angrily, "a little 
 touchy on that one, eh? A dark secret in the 
 idol's past! Always thought so, but now I'm 
 sure of it." With a forced laugh he brushed 
 a pile of opened envelopes off one of the trunks
 
 A Clash 41 
 
 and sat down. " But say ! that little wildflower 
 you dug up today is some pippin, Paul. 
 Pretty! Whew! And innocent! Say, she's 
 got about all there is to learn!" 
 
 Paul stared at him with sudden intense 
 dislike. Then he became conscious of 
 how very long it was that he had left June 
 alone. 
 
 "By George, I'd forgotten! I must go out 
 and " 
 
 "Never mind," Baillie assured him, cheer- 
 fully, "it's too late now. She's gone. I 
 wanted to take her home, but she wouldn't let 
 me, confound it." 
 
 "Gone!" 
 
 "Yes, fifteen minutes ago. Asked after 
 you, too. But say! Do they grow many of 
 'em like that around here? I'll have to see 
 more of her, as the fellow said of the girl in 
 the bathing suit." 
 
 With bland familiarity he rambled on, 
 while Paul, a slow anger gathering in him, 
 listened, controlling himself with difficulty. 
 Baillie was a new addition to the Graphic
 
 42 Star of the North 
 
 forces, having joined the company just before 
 it left New York. 
 
 From the first his manner and a certain 
 weakness in his handsome, dark face had 
 repelled Temple, and now as he poured forth 
 his Tenderloin rhapsodies of June, Paul felt 
 that this impression had been well-founded. 
 
 "It's been slower than mud in this prison, " 
 confided Baillie, easily, "but now I guess I'll 
 be able to worry along, what?" 
 
 Paul looked the other squarely in the eye. 
 
 "If I were you," he said coolly, "I'd be a 
 little careful with Miss Magregor. " 
 
 The younger man's eyes opened with as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Well, of all the swank! What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "Just what I say. I don't like the way 
 you've been talking for the last ten minutes, 
 and I thought I'd tell you. " 
 
 Baillie got up from the trunk and glowered 
 down upon the other. 
 
 "You did, eh? Well, let me tell you some- 
 thing. You may be the star of this company
 
 A Clash 43 
 
 and have something to say about my work, 
 though I doubt it, but outside of that you've 
 nothing to say, and I'll thank you to remember 
 the fact. I don't need your advice. I can 
 look out for myself. " 
 
 "And I'll look out for Miss Magregor since 
 I don't think she's able to do it herself." 
 Temple leaned back, one knee clasped in his 
 hands, and looked up at the other with steady 
 blue eyes in which a spark burned which had a 
 strange tendency to curb the ardour of youth. 
 "I'm telling you this, first, because I brought 
 her here and feel in a way responsible, and 
 second, because she's so different from the 
 women that you or I are accustomed to. 
 You seem to think that fact is something to 
 take advantage of, and I happen to think the 
 opposite. That's all." 
 
 Baillie's face flushed at the cool contempt of 
 the other, and his thin-lipped cruel mouth set 
 tightly. 
 
 "Suppose I give a damn what you think?" 
 he flashed. "You think too much. You're 
 not that girl's guardian and you can't dictate
 
 44 Star of the North 
 
 to me. Now, you mind your business and I'll 
 mind mine. " 
 
 "Thanks, I will, " Temple told him, quietly, 
 "until your business becomes mine. Then 
 I'll take a hand. And if I ever do, " his voice 
 raised slightly, "don't forget that I told you 
 this today." 
 
 Baillie choked. He shook his fist in Paul's 
 face. 
 
 "Don't you interfere with me," he threat- 
 ened thickly, "or you'll get yours. I give you 
 fair warning. If you butt into what's none of 
 your business I'll break your head. And don't 
 you forget it." 
 
 For a moment, with congested face and 
 flashing eyes he stood over Paul. Then he 
 stormed out of the tent, swearing incoher- 
 ently. 
 
 When he had gone Temple sat for a little 
 while, his face grave and thoughtful. It was 
 not of the crumpled letter in his hand nor of 
 the past he thought now, but of the fact that 
 he had made an enemy. And the knowledge 
 disturbed him, for he realized that now less
 
 A Clash 45 
 
 than at any time in his life could he afford 
 any man's hatred. 
 
 But behind that fact lay another even more 
 important, the root cause of that enmity, his 
 swift and eager response to June. It is the 
 righting, protecting male that love arouses, 
 and here not five hours after their first meeting 
 he was championing her against the world. 
 
 With Gertrude coming (that thought never 
 left him) could he have done two more unwise, 
 not to say dangerous, things in one day? he 
 asked himself.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BAILLIE SETS TO WORK 
 
 TT was several days before Temple saw June 
 again. In that time the Graphics had 
 filmed the delayed water "stuff" on the river 
 near the camp, and done a pursuit by Indians 
 through the nearby forest. It was characteris- 
 tic of Briscoe that amid all this he found time 
 to dress one of the guides as an English nurse- 
 maid and assign him to Paul as a delicate 
 suggestion not to go plunging recklessly again 
 through the province of Ontario. 
 
 Almost one entire day was spent by the 
 chunky director in extracting real tears from 
 Marguerite French. No vaseline or other fake 
 evidences of grief would do for him. The 
 Graphic had invested $200,000 in realism, 
 and realism it would have even at French's 
 expense. 
 
 *
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 47 
 
 "Set for a close-up, Gene," he directed the 
 camera man, and Perkins dragged his artillery 
 to within a yard of the leading lady's face, a 
 process she relished since there was neither 
 wrinkle nor blemish on its smooth fair surface. 
 What fear of the bench is to a baseball player 
 the fear of the close-up is to a film beauty. 
 
 Then with a cap on the back of his head 
 and a cigar in his mouth Briscoe wrestled 
 with the pump handle after this fashion : 
 
 "Good God, princess, how sorry you feel 
 for yourself ! Think ! That white woman has 
 stolen your husband!" (French was still 
 Na-shi-go.) "Every wrong that men commit 
 has been committed against you, and you have 
 no redress. You are an outcast among your 
 own people. Young and beautiful, your life is 
 ruined, and now they are going to take the 
 baby away from you. ..." Briscoe was 
 walking up and down, excited and much 
 moved. "The child is so patient and gentle. 
 ... It has only one pitiful little stick with a 
 rag about it for a doll to play with, and at 
 night its little arms steal about your neck so
 
 48 Star of the North 
 
 warm and soft and trusting!" He turned to 
 her, tears in his eyes. "And they're going to 
 take it away from you, the only thing you 
 have, your one last pitiful possession. My 
 God, will they leave you nothing! " 
 
 He was directly in front of French now and 
 he suddenly thrust his head forward and 
 looked in her eyes. 
 
 "Hell ! Dry as a bone!" he snorted and, 
 drawing a handkerchief to wipe his own tears 
 away, prepared to put on more agony. 
 
 He succeeded at last, not through tenderness 
 but by a lengthy disquisition on French's 
 defects as an actress. They were tears of rage 
 he evoked, but they were tears. 
 
 "Snatch it!" he told Gene Perkins, wearily, 
 and the precious pearls were ground into the 
 black box to be preserved forever. . . . 
 
 Then came a day when it was too dark to 
 "shoot," and Paul dragged Briscoe to Fort 
 McLeod in the interest of the "location. " 
 
 ' ' Fort, me eye ! What do I want with a fort ? 
 Scenario doesn't call for it, " growled the 
 director, as they walked down to the river.
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 49 
 
 > 
 
 Paul's answer was unintelligible. His eye 
 was roving among the craft tied to the pier. 
 
 "Wonder where that red canoe is, " he said. 
 "These others leak. That's the third time 
 this has happened." 
 
 "Someone else out probably." 
 
 Temple did not answer but as he took his 
 place his face grew stern. During the recent 
 busy time in camp, fortune had favoured 
 Baillie in that he had not been needed for the 
 scenes taken, and Paul had noted his almost 
 continuous absence. Since their interview 
 in Temple's tent, the two men had tacitly 
 avoided each other, but neither had receded 
 from his position. 
 
 This morning when the crescent of beach 
 before the fort came in view the red canoe was 
 plainly visible drawn up on the sand. Paul's 
 jaw tightened. Baillie had a perfect right to 
 come here of course, but he, Paul, would find 
 out the results of his coming ! 
 
 When they had climbed the steep path up 
 the bluff and stood on the clearing before the 
 fort, Briscoe stopped short in his tracks, his
 
 50 Star of the North 
 
 bright eyes glancing delightedly from one 
 detail to another of the picturesque scene. 
 
 "Great!" he exclaimed. "It's a find, Paul! 
 Why didn't you drag me down here by the 
 scruff of the neck? We've got to have this! 
 That stockade, those Indians, and dogs. Oh, 
 Mommer!" 
 
 "But you said a fort wasn't called for in the 
 scenario." 
 
 "It isn't, but great guns, man, we'll put one 
 in. Let me see, there's a dozen scenes that call 
 for a trapper's cabin. We'll change 'em to this 
 fort, and I'll work up three or four more to go 
 with 'em. Hullo, there's Baillie. And a girl. " 
 
 The couple had just emerged from the door 
 and stood on the low veranda unconscious of 
 the visitors. Baillie leaning carelessly against 
 a post inclined towards June who was looking 
 up at him as if listening intently to what he 
 said. 
 
 "Yes, I brought her to the camp the other 
 day, but you didn't wait to see her," said 
 Temple, grimly. "Let's go up. " 
 
 They advanced, beating off an attack of the
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 51 
 
 savage Indian dogs and June, turning at the 
 uproar, saw them. Temple thought she gave 
 a start, but the next instant she was coming 
 toward them with her long, undulating stride. 
 Baillie, scowling, followed slowly. 
 
 "You said you were coming to see me again, 
 but you didn't," the girl said frankly to 
 Temple when the introductions were over. 
 
 " This is the first chance I've had to pay my 
 party call," he returned, smiling. "Will you 
 forgive me for not seeing you before you left 
 the camp the other day?" He wondered 
 whether it was imagination that made him 
 think her cheeks were flushed more than he 
 remembered them, and her eyes brighter. 
 
 "Of course . . . but do come up to the 
 house. Father is back, and he's so anxious 
 to meet you." They went forward together, 
 Paul and Baillie nodding to each other per- 
 functorily. 
 
 Briscoe who, oblivious of the girl after the 
 first moment, had been examining his sur- 
 roundings, broke in sharply: 
 
 "Those Indians want to earn some money?"
 
 52 Star of the North 
 
 June laughed. 
 
 "They couldn't use it if they did earn it! 
 Food and guns and traps are their money. 
 Besides, they leave for their hunting grounds 
 tomorrow." 
 
 "Humph! Don't let 'em go. How much of 
 their time is a side of bacon and a bag of flour 
 worth?" 
 
 She laughed again, the clear, silvery laugh 
 that had seemed to Paul like the tinkle of one 
 of her trout streams. 
 
 "I don't know, but I'll ask them. But 
 come up to the house first. " 
 
 As they reached the veranda there appeared 
 in the open doorway a lean and wiry-looking 
 man of middle height, with grizzled hair and 
 moustache, who examined his visitors with a 
 pair of piercing grey eyes. He was dressed 
 comfortably in shoepacks, corduroys, and 
 faded jacket. He welcomed his guests with 
 the reserve of good breeding, even in offering 
 the generous hospitality of the Northland, and 
 spoke with a racy echo of his native Aberdeen. 
 
 "'Tis a gr-reat thing you're doin', Mr.
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 53 
 
 Briscoe, the lassie tells me, " he said, instantly 
 selecting the fountain head of the group. 
 "Play-actin* I conseeder a work of the devil, 
 but this, she tells me, is somethin' different. 
 Is there money in it?" 
 
 Briscoe, who knew when patience and much 
 talk were as good an investment as whirlwind 
 activity, drifted with lamblike docility towards 
 the chair the other indicated. This man was 
 the possessor of props and scenery that the 
 Graphic Company needed, and Briscoe in- 
 tended to get them. 
 
 Paul, June, and Baillie were left together 
 and the situation grew difficult. The relations 
 between the men were strained, and the con- 
 versation steadily became more trite and 
 perfunctory. Paul noticed that June seemed 
 conscious of this; or, if not that, he thought, 
 some influence was working in her. Her 
 vivacity was not the ingenuous outpouring of 
 delight and surprise that had so charmed him 
 during their first meeting. It seemed a little 
 forced, and a feeling grew in him that she was 
 extremely conscious of Baillie 's presence.
 
 54 Star of the North 
 
 The symptom was as plain as day to Temple. 
 It was the embarrassed unnaturalness of a 
 fifteen-year-old girl experiencing her first 
 romance. Except, he thought, grimly, June, 
 for all her innocence and unsophistication, was 
 a woman grown, with correspondingly deep 
 and intense feelings. 
 
 Temple felt instinctively that he was ex- 
 pected to join the two on the veranda, but he 
 sat firm as a rock where he was. This was the 
 thing he had feared, and he determined to 
 counteract it if he had to stay all night. 
 Underneath his pleasant, whimsical banter a 
 chill, sick feeling grew in him. 
 
 At last Baillie, who since the arrival of the 
 others had been morose and sullen, made an 
 excuse for going and disappeared towards the 
 river. Then Temple and the girl as if by 
 common consent drifted to the far edge of 
 the clearing and sat down on a wind-fallen 
 log. 
 
 "It's good to see you again," he said, 
 simply. "Somehow you make one forget 
 that there is such an ant-hill as New York,
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 55 
 
 and such things as struggle and hatred and 
 disappointment. " 
 
 She turned big, wondering eyes upon him. 
 
 "Do you think that! Oh, but think of 
 living in New York! It must be wonderful. 
 Is it true that there are buildings taller than 
 that big tree? " She pointed. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "you could put two trees 
 as tall on top of that one, and leave enough of 
 the building for a thousand suffocating people 
 to live in." 
 
 ' ' Oh-h ! " It was the exclamation of a child. 
 "And is Broadway so bright at night that it's 
 just like day?" 
 
 He turned to her with a kind of pity. 
 Baillie's track was plain. 
 
 "Yes, but it doesn't prevent people shooting 
 each other down when they want to. Why 
 are you curious about all these things? What 
 do you care about New York when you have 
 this glorious, clean, free life to live?" His 
 heart was sick within him. His predecessor 
 had worked with the subtlest poison at his 
 command.
 
 56 Star of the North 
 
 "Freedom!" She said the word musingly, 
 not passionately. " How is this freedom, when 
 I never go anywhere, and never see anyone. 
 There's so much to do, and know, and see, and 
 I've had none of it. Isn't it wasting my life to 
 stay here?" 
 
 Her gaze was troubled, and all the dreams 
 and ideals that she had newly awakened in 
 him cried out against that first shadow of 
 discontent. 
 
 "No life is wasted that is happy, wherever 
 it is," he replied earnestly. "A hundred 
 years in New York or anywhere else could 
 never give you the things you have now, the 
 different things that make you seem so wonder- 
 ful to me. ' ' He checked himself. ' ' And as for 
 the other things, the cheap and flashy things, 
 they never bring anybody happiness. Believe 
 me, Miss Magregor, I know." 
 
 She gazed straight before her across the 
 clearing, her eyes vague with the awakened 
 longings and dreams of youth. As he studied 
 her profile it seemed as delicately chiselled as 
 a cameo. Her hair was a soft, dark mass,
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 57 
 
 and the skin of bare throat and hands finely 
 textured beneath its tan. 
 
 Briscoe and Fleming Magregor had left the 
 porch now and were talking to one of the 
 Indians near the discoloured tepee. A damp, 
 cold wind that seemed to presage the early 
 winter roared through the great pines and 
 made Temple shiver despite his mackinaw. 
 But June was oblivious of it. She spoke finally 
 without turning to him. 
 
 "I believe you I can't help it. But that 
 doesn't satisfy me. Because you've known all 
 these wonderful things, you can choose, but 
 I haven't known them. I want to be able to 
 choose, but I never can if I stay here. I'll be 
 like a log that gets in a backwater in the spring ; 
 the river goes on rushing by all the time, 
 and the log simply drifts in a circle or gets 
 stranded. I'm stranded here, and life goes by. " 
 
 Temple was silent for a moment. The flash 
 of uncannily mature logic was unanswerable; 
 it was the logic of youth which has burst its 
 shell and glimpsed for the first time the possi- 
 bilities that life holds.
 
 58 Star of the North 
 
 " See here ! " He made his words light with 
 a laugh. "The day you rescued me you 
 weren't like this. You were proud to live here 
 and utterly happy. New York and you 
 shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath! 
 The blight of it has touched you now, and 
 everything you learn about it will take away 
 something more that you can never get back. 
 You have lost something already." 
 
 She looked at him now, seriously, stirred 
 by the sincerity of his feeling. 
 
 "I've lost something?" 
 
 "Yes, without knowing it; as a butterfly 
 loses the down on its wings." 
 
 "Oh !" The comparison was of her own 
 woods and she grasped it. She sat for a long 
 time silent, her brow knotted, her underlip 
 indrawn by her teeth. Then she seemed 
 to come to some decision and her brow 
 cleared. 
 
 "Yes, but think of all I'm gaining," she 
 said, naively. "And now let's not be serious 
 any longer. . . . Tell me more about New 
 York!"
 
 Baillie Sets to Work 59 
 
 He knew then he was beaten and studied 
 the ground before him for a little. 
 
 "Well," he smiled, at last, "where shall we 
 begin?" 
 
 Inside him was a gone, hopeless feeling; a 
 feeling of futility; of beating vainly against 
 a wall. Baillie had scored first, and with 
 weapons more deadly than steel. Not only 
 had he filled June's mind with the pictures 
 most likely to impress it, but he had fired her 
 imagination regarding himself. 
 
 Temple could see this as plainly as if she had 
 told him, and he thought grimly that the time 
 when the other's business should become his 
 own was almost at hand. And beneath the 
 mingled pity, regret, and jealousy that con- 
 sumed him, every fibre of his being longed for 
 the physical encounter between them that 
 he knew now was inevitable.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A REVELATION 
 
 JACK BAILLIE studied the fresh young 
 
 face of the girl opposite him in the canoe. 
 
 Floating idly in the still backwater in the lee 
 
 of a little island, they had been fishing, but 
 
 now their rods lay disused across the gunwales. 
 
 "Won't you believe I love you, June," he 
 asked, softly, a spark kindling in his daring 
 black eyes. 
 
 She sat looking down at her hands that 
 were folded in her lap, grave, half -troubled, as 
 if she were coping with a new and difficult 
 situation. 
 
 "Yes," she hesitated, "I believe you. If 
 you say you love me you must mean it. " 
 
 "And don't you love me a little in return?" 
 he pleaded. "I don't ask much, only a little. " 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Jack. I like you, but 
 60
 
 A Revelation 61 
 
 Oh, it's all so strange. Why should you love 
 me when you've known all the beautiful 
 women in New York!" This was not ques- 
 tion, it was amazement. 
 
 "Beautiful!" His tone conveyed utter 
 scorn. "Why, little girl, compared with you 
 they're the poultry in an old chorus girls' 
 Home. I tell you you're the prettiest thing 
 God ever made! And you're wasting your 
 life here." His voice softened and he leaned 
 forward a little. "I'm crazy about you, 
 dear, and I'm simply going to make you love 
 me." 
 
 Something masterful in his voice caused her 
 to lift her eyes and she met his with a little 
 catch of the breath. With his sleek black 
 hair, and handsome, imperious face he seemed 
 to her a hero of romance, compelling and 
 determined. She dropped her gaze again, 
 flushed, flattered, confused. 
 
 "I don't think you ought to talk to me 
 that way. It isn't right, is it?" 
 
 "Right! Of course it's right! Isn't it 
 right for a man to tell a woman he loves her?
 
 62 Star of the North 
 
 And if it was wrong I'd tell you just the same. 
 Do you suppose I could help it? And now 
 that I've told you I'm not going to let you 
 forget it. When my work is finished here I'm 
 going to take you away with me to New York 
 where you belong. Why, you'd be the queen 
 there in a week!" 
 
 "Oh, do you really think so?" Her ques- 
 tion was eager, and her vivid face alive with 
 the anticipation of wonders. 
 
 "Do I think so! I know it! Why, little 
 girl," he put his hand out and took hers 
 "together there's nothing we couldn't get 
 away with in that glory hole! " 
 
 Under his touch she sat quite still for a 
 moment. Then, as if with an effort, she with- 
 drew her hand from his. Was it intuitive 
 fear or the race-old virginal recoil? 
 
 "Please, you mustn't do that," she said, 
 very low. 
 
 A black look of chagrin passed over his face 
 and he glanced at her keenly. 
 
 "Oh, won't anything stir you? " he asked, in 
 a hopeless voice. "Are you made of ice? But
 
 A Revelation 63 
 
 then I might have known you didn't love me 
 don't even like me." His voice trailed off 
 tragically. 
 
 It was the old familiar flank attack of 
 Byronic desolation and self-pity. Her quick 
 sympathy responded with a flash of that 
 mothering contrition that has flattered men 
 for ages. 
 
 " Oh, I do, I do like you, better than anyone 
 I've ever known! You must be patient with 
 me, Jack. I never met anyone like you be- 
 fore." Then her maiden reserve took com- 
 mand again. "And I do so want to go to 
 New York! But of course I'd have to talk 
 it all over with father. I don't know how I 
 could leave him." 
 
 Baillie's face for a fleeting fraction of a 
 second mirrored an expression that would 
 have puzzled her had she seen it. Then he 
 smiled tenderly. 
 
 "I'm sorry I was cross," he said. "My 
 confounded temperament, I suppose. But " 
 his voice dropped to a confidential tone 
 "let's keep our little plan about New York
 
 64 Star of the North 
 
 a secret for a while, shall we? It'll be just 
 between ourselves, eh? Even your father 
 shan't know. Will you do it?" 
 
 Happy once more in the sun of his good 
 humour, she answered his smile with one 
 equally bright. 
 
 "Oh, that will be fun. Yes, of course. 
 And now shall we go back? " 
 
 When they had landed and climbed up to the 
 fort, a "take" was under way in the clearing. 
 Every day now the Graphics came down to 
 Fort McLeod and "shot" the scenes that Bris- 
 coe's genius had devised. Now the director, 
 with the amused factor to interpret, was 
 instructing the Ojibways whom he had suc- 
 ceeded in hiring, in the "business" for the 
 scene. 
 
 Temple saw June and Baillie arrive and his 
 face darkened. During the days since his first 
 talk with her he had felt that he was steadily 
 losing ground. Though he had been with her 
 as often as he could, the consciousness of some- 
 thing forcing its way between them had 
 grown upon him.
 
 A Revelation 65 
 
 He had not been so foolish as to argue or 
 criticize or disparage the influence of Baillie; 
 he had only sought by maintaining his normal 
 gay camaraderie with June to offset the atten- 
 tions of the other. He thought to save her 
 not only from the man but from herself. 
 
 So far he did not believe that she really 
 loved Baillie, but rather that her quick, un- 
 tried fancy had been snared by his superficial 
 charm. That she thought of him as a ro- 
 mantic figure inhabiting a desirable world and 
 moving among great people, was evident ; but 
 this was fascination not love, Temple reasoned. 
 A single step and the hair-line between this 
 and infatuation would be crossed. Could he 
 prevent it? 
 
 Paul found his position growing more and 
 more difficult. He dared not take an aggres- 
 sive part against Baillie, for he had not forgot- 
 ten the event that drew nearer and nearer 
 each day his wife's arrival. The event was 
 imminent now. Paul had reckoned carefully 
 and knew that, granting her time to prepare 
 for the trip, she must be on the next boat due
 
 66 Star of the North 
 
 down river from the railroad terminus. Suc- 
 cessive mails had brought no further word 
 from her, and he took this to mean that she 
 was on the way. 
 
 In that knowledge he shaped his conduct. 
 He fought stubbornly to put from his mind 
 any consideration of June except that of her 
 welfare. All thought of loving her he crushed, 
 but with a sensation of beating into stunned 
 silence the quickest, vividest part of him. 
 
 This was possible so long as he believed that 
 June's interest in Baillie was no more than 
 friendly. Then, one afternoon some days 
 later, came a revelation, a crisis, and a change. 
 
 Briscoe was in his element. The "Wilder- 
 ness Idyl" was shaping up well, and the new 
 scenes were adding just that touch of convic- 
 tion his instinct told him the film had formerly 
 lacked. 
 
 The entire company was at Fort McLeod 
 as it had been almost daily of late. The set- 
 up was in the clearing before the fort, and the 
 focus lines included the front of the dwelling, 
 half of the big trading storehouse to the right,
 
 A Revelation 67 
 
 the Indian "village," and the inevitable 
 background of pointed and spurred spruces. 
 
 Gene Perkins had his "still" camera (a 
 regular plate affair for snapping the most 
 exciting scenes) beside his big Powers, and was 
 gauging his "shooting" distance. His large 
 cap was turned with the visor to the back and 
 he looked like an aviator. 
 
 "Nine-foot firing line?" he inquired of 
 Briscoe to find out his distance from the 
 principal action. 
 
 "Nope, twenty-five." The director ran 
 outside one of the white tape-lines a property 
 man had laid down, and dropped his hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 " Camera pick up anything here? " he asked. 
 
 Gene sighted. 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 "All right." Briscoe turned to three or 
 four men in trapper's costume, and beckoned 
 them. "You fellows make your entrance 
 from here. You come on talking together 
 quiet enough, but when you see Baillie and 
 Tanner come staggering in from the other side
 
 68 Star of the North 
 
 of the clearing they're starving, you know, 
 and there'll be a close-up of that you get all 
 interest and excitement." 
 
 The native O jib ways revised their tribal 
 ideas of war paint when they saw the Gra- 
 phic feminine contingent. The women were 
 ghastly, their faces covered with a powder, 
 phosphorus yellow in hue. Their eyes and 
 eyebrows were heavily blacked and their 
 lashes "beaded." That is, by means of a 
 toothpick with hot black wax, each lash had 
 been gummed thick and tipped with a tiny 
 drop of the stuff. 
 
 It was a process which lent an enlarged and 
 starry look to the eyes, and was necessary for 
 distance "takes." In these masks of yellow 
 and black the women's scarlet mouths looked 
 like fresh razor gashes. 
 
 In the midst of Briscoe's liveliest man- 
 oeuvres, June Magregor appeared in the door- 
 way of the low, solidly -built dwelling and 
 stood watching the preparations. One bare 
 arm rested against the door- jamb above her 
 head, and her slim, lithe body fell into lines
 
 A Revelation 69 
 
 of easy grace as instinctive as those of some 
 unwatched wild thing. The director, looking 
 up, saw her, and his eyes lighted. 
 
 "Perfect type!" he grunted. "Half the 
 atmosphere of the scene." Then, forgetful 
 of half -posed groups, he hurled his chunky 
 body in her direction. 
 
 "Morning, Miss Magregor. We're going 
 to 'shoot' a scene with this doorway in it, and 
 I wish you would stay right where you are and 
 hold that pose. Will you?" 
 
 " Oh, you want me in a picture? " She was 
 animated at once. "Shall I stay just like 
 this?" 
 
 "Yes. Two people supposed to be starving 
 come in from the opposite side of the clearing 
 and I want you to stand here and watch 
 them." 
 
 "Why, that very thing happened here 
 winter before last!" she exclaimed, but he did 
 not hear her. He had turned away and was 
 beckoning Elsie Tanner. 
 
 "Make Miss Magregor up," he directed. 
 "She'll be in the picture this morning."
 
 70 Star of the North 
 
 Half an hour later, with a last look around, 
 he went to a table just outside the camera lines 
 on which were numerous scripts, weighted 
 down against the breeze with stones. One of 
 these was the typewritten scenario, and an- 
 other a paper ruled in several columns which 
 contained a tabulated summary by number of 
 all the characters, costumes, and scenes. 
 Checking briefly by this latter, he verified the 
 layout before him. 
 
 "All ready, children!" he bawled. "Now 
 listen. This is the story. Temple has sent 
 his 'wife,' Tanner, south to a certain lake in 
 care of a trapper (that's Baillie). The prin- 
 cess Na-shi-go's tribe, in revenge for the fact 
 that Temple has deserted her and married the 
 white woman, have followed these two and 
 stolen their camp outfit and guns. For days 
 they have been without food, and they reach 
 this fort in a starving condition. Got it?" 
 
 There was a general assent and he threw 
 down the script. 
 
 "All right, then. Places!" 
 
 
 The two score minor people, including the
 
 A Revelation 7 1 
 
 Ojibways, went through actions intended to 
 portray the life of the post in the busy time of 
 early summer. June, made up by this time, 
 was in her station in the doorway. 
 
 "Is it all right?" Briscoe asked Fleming 
 Magregor and Temple who stood back of the 
 camera, and were judging the effect. 
 
 "Very good," both pronounced, one from 
 the realistic and the other from the technical 
 point of view. 
 
 "Thanks. Places again. Now Baillie and 
 Tanner." 
 
 The two principals who were out of sight in 
 a thicket to the extreme right, emerged waver- 
 ing in their tracks and exhibiting what were 
 meant to be signs of starvation. But Briscoe 
 roared : 
 
 "Baillie, Baillie, you're asleep! You're dy- 
 ing on your feet! Remember you're starving! 
 You've got the biggest belly-ache in the world. 
 And drag Tanner." 
 
 The two laughed and returned to their 
 starting place. 
 
 "All right. Come ahead."
 
 72 Star of the North 
 
 Temple, who was not in the picture, looked 
 at June. But he did not see in her graceful, 
 un-self-conscious pose only a bit of atmos- 
 phere. He saw in it the expression of some- 
 thing as rare and beautiful as the opening of a 
 flower the free spirit of the wilderness before 
 man has found and despoiled it. 
 
 She was oblivious of him and stood with 
 her attention fixed on the action of the two 
 principals, who were now crossing the clearing. 
 Baillie who, despite his personal character, 
 was a juvenile actor of exceptional talent, 
 had caught Briscoe's idea and was acting up 
 to his part. Ragged, gaunt-looking, weak, he 
 staggered on, half -dragging Tanner. 
 
 June straightened up and Temple saw her 
 face change unconsciously from curiosity to 
 concern. The dire distress of the two seemed 
 actually to have stirred her. 
 
 "By gad," muttered Briscoe to Paul, "the 
 girl's got imagination. She's acting, she can't 
 help it." 
 
 Temple nodded. Meanwhile the minor 
 characters were playing their parts. Indians
 
 A Revelation 73 
 
 and trappers registered surprise, then interest, 
 then excitement. They moved towards the 
 starving pair. 
 
 Then Temple who was still watching June, 
 saw another look come into her face, a look of 
 naked anguish and pity that startled him. 
 And suddenly her emotions expressed them- 
 selves in action. Totally forgetful of Briscoe's 
 directions, she left her place in the doorway, 
 and with swift strides went towards the cen- 
 tral group. 
 
 Others had already gathered about the 
 principals, but the girl pushed her way through 
 and went straight to Baillie. So naturally did 
 she do it, and so surely, that in a moment she 
 was in charge, giving directions and dominat- 
 ing the scene. She clung to Baillie, supporting 
 him, and as he leaned on her, simulating weak- 
 ness, she bent over him with a swift look of 
 compassion and tenderness that to Temple 
 was like the tearing of a veil before sacred 
 things. 
 
 ' ' Holy cat ! The girl's great ! ' ' cried Briscoe, 
 and then bounding forward, shouted, "Whoa!
 
 74 Star of the North 
 
 That'll do. Now we'll 'shoot' it. And Miss 
 Magregor, I want you to repeat exactly what 
 you did this time see?" 
 
 At the first sound of the director's voice, 
 June had started with the violence of her 
 wrench back to reality. Now drawing away 
 from Baillie who was grinning at his success, 
 she looked confused and embarrassed. 
 
 "Never mind about disobeying orders," 
 Briscoe comforted her. "You got away with 
 it, and I'll forgive you. " 
 
 At one side Fleming Magregor watched his 
 daughter's debut in silence, his pride in her 
 achievement wrestling with his Scotch con- 
 science. 
 
 As June went back to her station, Temple 
 turned away from the scene and walked down 
 towards the river. He wanted to be alone. 
 He felt as if his whole being were afire. That 
 look, that moment of tenderness, had re- 
 vealed to him the existence of the thing he had 
 dreaded above all others that June was be- 
 ginning to love Baillie. 
 
 That she had betrayed the fact uncon-
 
 A Revelation 75 
 
 sciously, was to him the surest proof of its 
 truth ; it revealed an inner state of mind which 
 she probably did not as yet realize herself. 
 Baillie's gradual furtive campaign had swept 
 her unknowing beyond her depth. 
 
 And with this realization of June's love for 
 the other, came a second: namely, that, fight 
 and deny as he would, he loved June. Her act 
 had been the tiny flame to set off the train long 
 laid in his heart. His thought, that first day 
 of their meeting, that perhaps she of all the 
 women in the world was to awaken the great 
 love of his life, he knew now to have been 
 divination. 
 
 His long years of waiting had reached their 
 inevitable culmination here, and he was as 
 powerless to stay the sweep of forces within 
 him, as he was to push back the flow of the 
 river along which he walked towards camp. 
 
 And what now would be the effect upon his 
 life of these revelations with their concomi- 
 tant struggles and readjustments? 
 
 The first was to effect a swift and complete 
 reversal of his attitude towards Baillie. He
 
 76 Star of the North 
 
 shook himself free from the passive course he 
 had felt obliged to maintain, and determined 
 to master not only the man but his influence. 
 
 He felt with absolute conviction that June's 
 infatuation for the other (he admitted its 
 existence now) was not love, though she might 
 think it was, and he longed to show her, by 
 the glory of the thing that burned in his heart, 
 the contrast between the two emotions. 
 
 But here he came face to face with his second 
 and greater problem. He himself was not free. 
 Yet, after long thought, frankly admitting 
 this, he still claimed June. 
 
 "Because I made one mistake, must I pay 
 for it all my life?" he asked himself. "Have 
 I no right to happiness?" 
 
 His head was bent and his face lined with 
 pain as he walked, fighting this bitterest 
 battle. Then, because love, to those natures 
 which ring truest, is a medium for giving, not 
 getting, he pushed his own desires aside. 
 
 To save June! That was the first thing. 
 After that, perhaps, the knotted problem of 
 his own desires. It would require time, that
 
 A Revelation 77 
 
 rescue, and it would require more: an ardent 
 courtship which he had not the right to pay. 
 
 A gust of anger shook him. Right or not, 
 he should pay it. The end justified the means. 
 The hopeless pain such a course might cause 
 him he did not reckon, for, thinking of her, 
 his desired of the world, pain and longing 
 became as nought. Just a little time, he 
 pleaded, just a little time! 
 
 The trail debouched into the camp clearing, 
 practically deserted now except for the cooks 
 who were rattling about the big range under 
 the cook tent in the first preparations for 
 dinner. Acrid wood smoke from the stove- 
 pipe stung his nostrils. 
 
 Paul walked to the edge of the bank that 
 shelved down to the little natural cove where 
 was the camp landing and pier, and looked 
 across the river. The afternoon was drawing 
 down, and the dense green of the trees on the 
 opposite bank looked almost black. The sun 
 and a tingling breeze were in his face. 
 
 Then, as he stood, one of two men who were 
 working about an empty barge at the water's
 
 78 Star of the North 
 
 edge, suddenly stood erect and shaded his 
 eyes up-river. Then he bellowed joyously, 
 "Boat ahoy!" and pointed. 
 
 Paul looked, and in the weltering gold of a 
 far bend made out an inch-long black speck 
 which familiarity had taught him was one of 
 the great camp flatboats. 
 
 Instantly his whole world crashed about 
 him. In the intense depth of thought and 
 feeling the realization of his love had brought, 
 he had forgotten it. Now the meaning of its 
 approach came home with terrific force. 
 
 On that boat was Gertrude. By evening 
 the whole camp would know of his marriage, 
 and, the next day, June. Who would there 
 be then to oppose Baillie? And who to save 
 the girl who could not save herself? What 
 too, of all his new-sprung hopes and dreams?
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 A "CUT- BACK" TO MANHATTAN 
 
 TEMPLE watched dumbly as 
 the boat bearing his wife drew steadily 
 nearer. Now he could make out the helms- 
 man by the big steering sweep in the stern, 
 and two other men running back and forth 
 along the gunwales, long poles balanced in 
 their hands. Then, at two hundred yards 
 distance, a fourth figure rose and detached 
 itself from the high-piled cargo, and Paul saw 
 that it was a woman. 
 
 Then whatever last faint hope had flickered 
 in him died. Plans and dreams went out with 
 it, and a grim resignation took their place. 
 He shrugged. Since she had come, he would 
 play the game. He had always played it, 
 and he would play it now. But she should 
 
 79
 
 8o Star of the North 
 
 play it too, he told himself; from now on there 
 should be a better and a final understanding. 
 
 The boat was drawing close, and Temple 
 turned slowly to go down and meet it. To do 
 this it was necessary for him to circle back 
 through a little tongue of woods before he 
 could reach the path leading down the bank. 
 When he emerged the scow was just warped 
 alongside the pier, and as he watched he saw 
 the woman leap ashore. Even at this distance 
 her Broadway clothes were unmistakable 
 a travelling dress and hat of the latest cut and 
 material, both of which seemed strangely 
 out of place here where dress had been modi- 
 fied to the primitive requirement of usefulness. 
 
 The woman turned back to talk to the boat- 
 men for a moment, and was lost to sight. 
 Then when Paul had stepped on the pier and 
 was quite close, she reappeared and they were 
 face to face. 
 
 He stopped short in amazement. The 
 woman was not Gertrude. 
 
 "My Gawd!" shouted the lady, joyfully, 
 and ran towards him. "If it ain't Paul
 
 A "Cut-Back" to Manhattan 81 
 
 Temple! Kid, I'm that far away from home 
 an' mother I could bawl!" 
 
 "Goldie Burke!" He could hardly speak. 
 To find this old friend, a member of the New 
 York Graphic Company, when he had ex- 
 pected Gertrude, struck him aghast. "What 
 are you doing here!" he managed to say amid 
 the whirl of his emotions. 
 
 " Tryin' to keep from kissin' you, old dear ! " 
 She seized his out-stretched hands effusively. 
 "Briscoe wired for me to come an' do mother 
 parts in some small stuff he's goin' to take, 
 and I'm here. But Lord, I'm homesick!" 
 
 As they turned up the hill she rattled on, 
 shaking her hat straight on her tousled yellow 
 hair with a flirt of her head, and vigorously 
 chewing gum. 
 
 ' And were you the only passenger the only 
 woman to come down on the boat?" Paul 
 asked incredulously, when he had some- 
 what recovered himself. 
 
 "Was I! You said it. Wasn't it just like 
 Briscoe to make me travel out here alone with 
 three men? What does he care for a woman's 
 
 6
 
 82 Star of the North 
 
 reppitation and virtue? But I've got a gun 
 an' I slept with it every night." 
 
 With growing joy and a sense of exultant 
 freedom from a horrible oppression, Temple 
 guided the voluble Goldie up the new and 
 dismal Broadway. Gertrude had not come. 
 He was just commencing to realize it now. 
 The reason he did not know nor care. But it 
 was typical, he thought, of her treatment of 
 him, and it gave him hope that perhaps she 
 was not coming at all. 
 
 Granting her time for preparation, today's 
 boat was the logical one for her to have caught. 
 The arrival of the next was problematical, as 
 this cargo comprised the last shipment of 
 camp supplies expected for some time. 
 
 And now the battle for June! 
 
 At the moment when Paul recognized Goldie 
 Burke, Gertrude Temple, or Gertrude Mackay 
 as she was called, was as far away from him 
 in thought as she was in body. Seated at a 
 table next the brass railing of a Broadway 
 "tango palace," she was laughing gaily at
 
 A " Cut-Back" to Manhattan 83 
 
 the rather heavy jest of the man opposite her. 
 
 She was a pretty woman of the "stagey" 
 type which has made such heavy inroads on 
 the younger English nobility. Beautifully 
 dressed in the filmiest of summer gowns, and 
 with every feminine art to aid, she looked 
 young and blooming almost girlish. But 
 the close observer would have noted a look of 
 hardness about the corners of her turquoise 
 blue eyes, and the faintest suggestion of 
 weariness in their mirth. Her painted lips 
 were scarlet, her teeth small, even, and white. 
 
 "Honest, Al, " she confided, "it's a treat to 
 come here with you. Every girl on the floor 
 is trying to catch your eye. It ain't every day 
 they get a chance to show before the president 
 of the Stellar Films. " 
 
 Al Bergman grinned amiably and puffed at 
 his fat black cigar. He himself was fat and 
 black. He was conscious of the attention 
 paid him and liked it. 
 
 "Well, it ain't I'm so rotten at pickin' 'em, 
 is it?" he asked. "I picked you, an' you're 
 comin' along good."
 
 84 Star of the North 
 
 The woman twirled her highball glass be- 
 tween her fingers until the ice clinked against 
 the sides. 
 
 "Do you mean that, Al?" 
 
 "Sure I mean it. I saw the second reel of 
 'Which Path?' in the projection room this 
 morning, and you done great. If that thing 
 goes like I think it will, you'll be made. " 
 
 "Ah!" She dropped her eyes and the smile 
 left her face. In its place came a look of 
 triumph that was not joy, but almost bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 "That's what I want, Al," she said. "He 
 always was jealous of me; that's why he 
 wanted to keep me in a glass case all my life. 
 But I'll show him there's somebody in the 
 movies besides him/" 
 
 Suddenly a uniformed band in a balcony 
 at the other end of the hall crashed into a 
 throbbing, thumping strain, and couples rose 
 from about the tables and commenced to 
 crowd towards the dance floor. 
 
 It was a golden September day, but the heat 
 was that of midsummer. The whirring elec-
 
 A " Cut-Back" to Manhattan 85 
 
 trie fans merely puddled the sickly, close 
 atmosphere without refreshing it, and the 
 people, mostly habitues with a sprinkling of 
 sightseers, looked pale and wilted. There was 
 an air of forced gaiety and false enjoyment 
 about the whole thing. 
 
 Gertrude and Bergman did not dance; the 
 former watched her companion, and the latter 
 was content to sit and feast with sleepy, half- 
 shut eyes upon the feminine procession that 
 swirled by him. 
 
 After the encore, when the dancers were 
 returning to their places, he leaned forward 
 and picked up the thread of their conversa- 
 tion where she had dropped it. 
 
 "I guess making good with the Stellar is 
 better than chasing Mr. X. all over' Canada, 
 ain't it, Gertie?" he asked. 
 
 "You spilled a chinful then, Al. But I've 
 told you before I never meant to go up there. 
 That letter of his about a divorce kind of 
 peeved me, so I shot the hottest one I could 
 think of back at him. That's all. There's 
 nothing he hates worse than to have me around
 
 86 Star of the North 
 
 where he's working, so I wrote him I was 
 coming. I hope it gave him a fit. " 
 
 "Well, keep it down to threats, dearie." 
 He ogled her and grinned. 
 
 "Don't you worry. I'd never go. If I was 
 to show up there he'd probably stop my al- 
 lowance before I got within shooting distance, 
 and that would make a fine, enjoyable outing, 
 wouldn't it?" 
 
 Bergman grunted comfortably and shifted 
 his cigar to the other corner of his mouth. 
 
 "Well, dearie," he said, modestly, "you 
 know you needn't ever let a little thing like 
 that worry you. But say, what's Graphic 
 doin' up there in the backwoods anyway?" 
 
 "Shooting a big North country feature, far 
 as I can learn," she told him. "Goin' to 
 wait for snow and pull a lot of realistic stuff. 
 Say!" Her face lighted with a sudden 
 thought, but after a brief moment she dis- 
 missed it. "That ain't such a bad idea of 
 theirs either!" she finished indifferently. 
 
 Real interest showed for a moment on 
 Bergman's placid face.
 
 A "Cut-Back" to Manhattan 87 
 
 "It ain't, at that," he admitted. Then he 
 leaned over and patted her hand. "But we 
 should worry when we got a star comin' along 
 that'll put all their eyes out, eh, Gert?" 
 
 She lowered her gaze to conceal a flicker 
 of satisfaction. Then she flashed him a 
 grateful look. 
 
 "Sometimes I think you're too generous, 
 Al." 
 
 Suddenly he leaned forward, planting his 
 elbows on the table and looking at her squarely 
 with his black, bright little eyes. 
 
 "So do I, Gertie. Look here, how long are 
 you going to keep this up? Ain't you got any 
 heart? Ain't I anything to you?" 
 
 She drew back cool, smiling, self-possessed. 
 
 "I'm not a star with my own company yet, 
 am I?" she asked sweetly. 
 
 Bergman groaned and sank back in his 
 chair. 
 
 "I'm makin' you a star as quick as I can, 
 ain't I?" he complained. "My God, it 
 seems to take forever. " 
 
 And then, because he was scowling, she
 
 88 Star of the North 
 
 leaned forward and smiled and played upon 
 him until his look of pleased proprietorship 
 returned. In the midst of it the music blared 
 out again, and the jaded couples rose mechan- 
 ically from their tables to dance.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES 
 
 JUNE MAGREGOR found life bewildering. 
 The multitudinous impressions and sen- 
 sations of the last weeks overwhelmed her, and 
 sometimes at night when undressing in her 
 raftered bedroom, she asked herself wonder- 
 ingly, like the girl in the nursery rhymes 
 "Can this be I?" 
 
 Sophistication had begun, though she would 
 not have called it that. She was different; 
 there was gone a certain first evanescent glory 
 of innocence, even as Temple had prophesied. 
 But there was, too, an awakening, a perception 
 of things deeper and finer than she had ever 
 dreamed. 
 
 No longer at the mention of love would she 
 have asked what the poet meant. She had 
 learned of it by observing her lovers. Whether 
 
 89
 
 90 Star of the North 
 
 she herself loved she could not have said, but 
 she knew poignant gladnesses and longings 
 and pain interspersed like sun and rain on an 
 April day. 
 
 Jack Baillie saw to that. He made love 
 tumultuously, his eyes flashing and his voice 
 thrilling. By turns he was stormy and serene, 
 humble and exalted, intense or cold as his 
 moods dictated. He even dressed the part, 
 his Byronic shirts with wide soft collars setting 
 off splendidly his shapely dark head with its 
 thick, curly hair. 
 
 He made June romantically unhappy and 
 she liked it. He kept her in a continual fer- 
 ment of uncertainty, sweeping her to the stars 
 one night by a flight of passion, frightening her 
 the next with a threat of suicide. Her heart 
 changed its beat strangely when she heard his 
 voice. 
 
 And he swayed her in still another way; he 
 awakened her sex consciousness. Like the 
 healthy, vital young animal she was, sleeping 
 instincts awoke at their destined call and 
 whispered of undreamed things.
 
 Between Two Fires 91 
 
 This was Baillie's love, a love of hours alone, 
 of "secrets, " of sentimentality, and tremu- 
 lousness. 
 
 Set against it was the clean, fresh whole- 
 someness of Temple's, an inspired compan- 
 ionship that spoke love as plainly in its way as 
 did Baillie's passion. Quietly, unobtrusively, 
 since that day of the picture at the fort, he 
 had assumed a larger and larger part in her 
 life. 
 
 They talked books, read together, delved 
 deep into the mysteries of worlds here and 
 hereafter; the How of the stars, which we 
 know something of, and the Why of which we 
 know nothing. 
 
 And with him, too,though they were happy 
 together like children, June felt that under- 
 neath his quietness lay a fierce intensity held 
 in strong leash. It seemed to run like a 
 mighty current beneath the dancing waves of 
 their intercourse, sweeping her with it. 
 
 And yet it was Baillie who oftenest filled her 
 mind and imagination; the fire, the elan of his 
 love ignited a tinder of the senses that burned
 
 92 Star of the North 
 
 very bright. But Temple, to whom passion 
 was the crown rather than the body of love, 
 shielded the flame from her even as she 
 shielded her own awakening from both her 
 lovers. 
 
 At the beginning Paul had met and settled 
 a problem seriously involving his conscience. 
 This was whether he could with honour pay 
 attention to June without telling her of his 
 marriage. Every natural instinct resented 
 this, and yet he knew that by no other course 
 could he hope to win in what he had set out to 
 do. To tell her the truth would be to remove 
 himself from the field and leave Baillie un- 
 opposed. 
 
 But he intended, of course, when the time 
 came, if come it did, to make a clean breast 
 of the whole affair. . . . 
 
 One still cold evening, as he and June paced 
 up and down the fort clearing in the twilight 
 that was growing shorter and shorter as the 
 fall advanced, he told her of his love. The air 
 was still and crystal clear, and the hard blue 
 light of the sky, still tinged with a lemon-
 
 Between Two Fires 93 
 
 coloured sunset, brought out with the distinct- 
 ness of an etching the straight banded trunks 
 of the birches at the edge of the forest. 
 
 His words were deep with conviction and 
 passion. 
 
 She moved beside him, anxious, finding her 
 burden heavy. The transition from the pas- 
 sionless, almost sexless girl supremely careless 
 of love that she had been, to the woman 
 plunged into the crucible of life by two men 
 of a new and magic world, frightened her. 
 
 "Oh, Paul, what can I say!" she cried, 
 "except that I I don't love you!" She 
 looked up at him a little fearfully, dreading a 
 mercurial outburst of despair. But his face 
 only went white with pain, and he looked 
 unseeingly off above the enclosing trees. 
 Then in a moment his jaw set and he turned 
 to her eyes as steady and hard as flint. 
 
 "June, you're going to love me," he told 
 her quietly. "I'm going to make you." 
 
 Again she felt the pull of that strong current 
 that underran their relations, and after a 
 moment he asked :
 
 94 Star of the North 
 
 "Is there anyone else?" 
 
 She hesitated long, for her bewilderment 
 and perplexity were very great, and she was 
 alone and inexperienced. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know!" she said. He was 
 strong, masterful, and yet there was the echo 
 of another delicious music that he did not 
 sound. "I don't know!" 
 
 He felt a little recompensing satisfaction. 
 At least he had accomplished something. He 
 had checked before she realized it, the con- 
 flagration whose first flame he had detected 
 that day of the picture. She did not know! 
 Then he and Baillie were on even ground. 
 
 " I don't want a final answer now, " he said. 
 "I'll wait." (How different, she thought, from 
 Baillie's passionate claiming of her !) "I want 
 you to know as I know, and you will. And 
 when you do, time or distance, or anything 
 that may happen, can never make any differ- 
 ence. But you're going to love me, June, 
 sometime, and when that time comes, you'll 
 find love wonderfully different from anything 
 you have ever known."
 
 Between Two Fires 95 
 
 She looked up at him again. The pain had 
 gone from his face and now it seemed strong 
 and rugged, glowing with an intense inner 
 light. She had studied it often, trying to read 
 what life had written there, but tonight it 
 revealed much : sensitiveness and feeling, and 
 perhaps mystery and tragedy. Tragedy most 
 of all? 
 
 They talked little after that except for 
 cheerful generalities. Silences fell, silences 
 characteristic of their intimacy, and June felt 
 a deep and abiding peace. Temple always 
 brought her that. 
 
 Then through the dusk there sounded a 
 clear cadenced whistle and the girl stopped, 
 her face quickening. 
 
 "Shall we go back now?" she asked, and 
 he turned without a word. But the pain had 
 come back. Temple knew that whistle. 
 Baillie had come. 
 
 By the loom of the dwelling with its yellow, 
 lamp-lit windows, they met him. He seized 
 the girl's hand eagerly and then nodded 
 curtly to Paul. The three sat down on the
 
 96 Star of the North 
 
 edge of the low veranda and exchanged per- 
 functory commonplaces. 
 
 Then when Paul was about to go, the door 
 opened and Fleming Magregor came out. 
 
 "Is Mr. Temple there?" he inquired, peer- 
 ing at the dim figures. 
 
 Paul rose. 
 
 "Wull ye have a pipe?" the factor invited, 
 after responding shortly to Baillie's greeting, 
 and waved towards the heavy chairs in a 
 corner of the veranda. 
 
 Paul accepted gratefully. They seated 
 themselves, the factor methodically shaving 
 his hard plug of tobacco in silence. His 
 contempt for Paul's fine-cut weed was monu- 
 mental. 
 
 "Wad ye like to go huntin', say Thursday? " 
 he began abruptly when the fire was bright 
 in the briar bowl. "The deer should be 
 driftin' back towards Skull Lake for the lily- 
 pads the noo, and I thought ye might like to 
 try it." 
 
 Would he like to try it? Would Bryan like 
 to make a speech or Carnegie be interviewed?
 
 Between Two Fires 97 
 
 Paul could have stood on his head for the 
 solemn grey man. But he had no proper 
 gun, he mourned. 
 
 "I've plenty. . . . I'm a bit of a sports- 
 man, as we all have to be up here. " 
 
 They talked on, planning the details. In 
 the midst of it Baillie and June, who had been 
 murmuring together at the edge of the ver- 
 anda, rose and strolled away in the darkness. 
 
 A mad jealousy burned all of life to ashes 
 for Paul. But worse than that, as he watched 
 them go, was the Fear. How little she knew ! 
 How determined Baillie was! 
 
 Paul shivered, though not with the cold. 
 How much longer, he asked himself, must he 
 wait for the opportunity he sought? A fierce 
 impulse to rise and follow them, to triumph 
 with the strength of his hands over that sub- 
 tle villainy, surged through him. But he fought 
 it down. The time was not yet, and he must 
 bide the time. A false move and he would 
 throw June irrevocably into Baillie' s arms. 
 
 He apprehended little that he heard of deer 
 hunting that night.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A TEST 
 
 TT was a wild scene. The river at this place, 
 twenty miles below Fort McLeod, had 
 narrowed to a swift, foam-flecked stream. 
 The bank where the half-dozen of the Graphic 
 party sat was low and rocky ; the green forest 
 was in the background. Two canoes loaded 
 with camping paraphernalia were beached up- 
 stream, and two others strained and knocked 
 in the current before them. 
 
 Over everything hung a mantle of noise, a 
 loud monotonous roar, the senseless brawl of 
 fast water. Down-stream the river banks 
 closed in to form the high black walls of a 
 gorge amid which the tossing waves of a rapid 
 showed like white teeth. And in a patch of 
 sunlight against one of those walls swung a 
 
 thread, and at the end of it a man with a tiny 
 
 9 8
 
 A Test 99 
 
 machine Gene Perkins getting ready for the 
 "shot." 
 
 The group on the bank, which included 
 Paul, June, Elsie Tanner, Baillie, and others, 
 watched a colloquy between a man and a 
 woman at the water's edge. The latter, 
 garbed in Indian dress, was speaking fast and 
 passionately and the other, with battered hat 
 pushed back on his square head and arms 
 akimbo, replied sharply at intervals. 
 
 Then suddenly the girl buried her face in 
 her hands and sank down on the stones weep- 
 ing. Briscoe looked at her a moment, shrugged, 
 and turned up towards the waiting group. He 
 came slowly and dejectedly. For the first 
 time in his life he looked beaten. 
 
 "French has funked it cold, " he announced. 
 "She says I've no right to ask her to go 
 through that gorge in a canoe. " He made a 
 motion with one hand. "Even a thousand- 
 dollar bonus didn't get her. Guess we'll have 
 to fake it at some nice little mill-race in New 
 Jersey." His scorn equalled his disappoint- 
 ment.
 
 ioo Star of the North 
 
 Silence fell on the little group. Paul, 
 Elsie Tanner, and Baillie had also been des- 
 tined to make that whirlwind trip between 
 black walls, and French's vacillation and 
 delay had been trying. For a week rain 
 and cloudy weather had held them up, and 
 now after an all-day trip to this location, 
 the leading lady had finally knifed the 
 "take." 
 
 Baillie moistened his lips and a little colour 
 came back into his face. Elsie Tanner who, 
 in her cheerful, unobtrusive way had faced 
 every peril known to man without a qualm, 
 smiled, and Paul frowned. He looked up at 
 Briscoe and spoke soberly: 
 
 "I'm not dying to go through there" he 
 nodded towards the rapids "but if we don't 
 get that thrill, the film's a failure. We must 
 get it somehow, Tom. " 
 
 "Perhaps we could find a less dangerous 
 rapid that French would go through, "sug- 
 gested Baillie. 
 
 "There ain't one within a hundred miles," 
 growled Briscoe. "And what do I care for
 
 A Test 101 
 
 a less dangerous rapid? I want guts in this 
 picture!" 
 
 A perplexed and hopeless pause fell. Then 
 suddenly June who had been listening, spoke: 
 
 "Perhaps I could go through, Mr. Briscoe. 
 I'd like to try." 
 
 Everyone turned to her, staring, unbeliev- 
 ing. Baillie started to speak but checked 
 himself. 
 
 "You would?" A look combined of daz- 
 zling joy, admiration, and amazement, lighted 
 Briscoe 's face. 
 
 "Yes, if Miss French would let me have her 
 costume. I think it would fit me." She 
 spoke a little eagerly now. The colour of 
 excitement was in her cheeks. 
 
 Briscoe bounced to his feet as if he had been 
 made of rubber. 
 
 "Great!" he cried. "Miss Magregor, 
 you've saved us. That bonus is yours, and 
 anything else the Graphic Company's got. 
 By thunder, you're my star of the North!" 
 
 The girl flushed with pleasure. She was in 
 awe of this live-wire genius, but she knew
 
 102 Star of the North 
 
 the value of his praise. She turned from him 
 to Baillie who was mumbling in her ear. 
 
 "Don't do it, June," he was pleading 
 thickly, "don't take that risk. If anything 
 happened to you " 
 
 " It would happen to you, too, Jack. " Her 
 eyes rested on him a little surprised. 
 
 "But are you sure you can do it?" 
 
 "No, I'm not, but I want to try. It will 
 be wonderful sport!" She quivered with the 
 nervous courage of the thoroughbred at the 
 barrier. He said no more. 
 
 It was characteristic of French that though 
 she refused to chance the white water herself, 
 she resented June's taking her place. Her 
 eyes snapped with jealousy as June donned her 
 Indian costume. She had heard, as Briscoe 
 intended her to, that phrase "star of the 
 North." 
 
 The director was now arranging the final 
 mechanical details, casting a glance now and 
 then up the canyon where the sun was grad- 
 ually lighting it as noon approached. At its 
 height it would flood the gorge for half an
 
 A Test 103 
 
 hour, and it was then the hazardous trip must 
 be made. 
 
 Three cameras were to be used, one at the 
 entrance to the rapid, a second suspended in 
 midair half-way through, and a third at the 
 lower end to catch the final leap of the canoes 
 into still water. Two assistants were helping 
 with the artillery. 
 
 The "stunt " itself was a canoe race through 
 the rapid, this being a climactic scene in the 
 "Wilderness Idyl," and the most difficult 
 of the troubles Briscoe's fiendish ingenuity 
 had devised for the long-suffering Princess 
 Na-shi-go. 
 
 Temple and Elsie Tanner, as man and wife, 
 were supposed to be fleeing from the mysteri- 
 ous vengeance that had pursued them ever 
 since they had married and come into the 
 Northland, and hot on their heels followed the 
 Princess and the trapper (Baillie) who was in 
 love with her. 
 
 At the water's edge the men were examining 
 the canoes. They were stout, tried craft, 
 ballasted evenly with what for the sake of the
 
 104 Star of the North 
 
 picture represented duffle, but was really stone. 
 They would ride steadily and yet present 
 plenty of freeboard. 
 
 " Elsie, " said Paul, as his companion calmly 
 took her place in front of him, "I like to work 
 with you. You're a brick. There isn't a 
 speck of yellow in you. " 
 
 The quiet young woman who was neither 
 beautiful nor brilliant, and who probably 
 would never be great, coloured swiftly and 
 laughed with a sudden catch in her voice. 
 
 "I'd be all yellow if I didn't know you were 
 behind me, " she said, and almost revealed her 
 long secret romance. 
 
 For a moment Paul pondered her unusual 
 emotion. With man-like obtuseness he hoped 
 after all she wasn't going to funk it. 
 
 June had finished dressing now and came 
 down to the water's edge. She and Baillie 
 took their places. Then several revolver 
 shots from far up the gorge attracted their 
 attention, and they turned to see Perkins's 
 tiny white handkerchief waving. 
 
 "He's all ready up there," said Briscoe,
 
 A Test 105 
 
 "and the sun's right." The canyon stood 
 revealed in the yellow glow, a forbidding place 
 at best with its black, wet walls. "Now, 
 children," he added, his eye on Baillie, "if 
 any of you don't want to go through with this, 
 say so now. Once you go in there's no stop- 
 ping till you come out . If you turn over in the 
 middle, good-bye. I've got men waiting at 
 the other end to take care of you, but they'll 
 be no good in the rapid. " 
 
 "Let's get it over," growled Temple, and 
 switched his canoe around. The rest re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 "All right. Go ahead. But Baillie, you 
 let Temple get through before you start." 
 The preliminary stages of the race leading up 
 to the plunge into the white water would be 
 filmed later if the big "stunt" was successful. 
 The two craft struggled a short distance up- 
 stream and turned. Paul glanced anxiously 
 at Baillie. Was June facing two dangers in 
 this daring trip? 
 
 "Ready, Elsie?" They were kneeling, 
 firm-set.
 
 106 Star of the North 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then, go!" 
 
 The two paddles dug the water and the 
 canoe leaped forward. 
 
 Swiftly they passed the camera that was 
 taking the "approach, " and as swiftly the spot 
 where Briscoe stood, his face drawn and tense. 
 Then the rocky banks commenced to rise and 
 close in, there was an icy breath of dank air, 
 and the clamour of the many-tongued water 
 rose louder and louder. Then before them a 
 wave, the grandfather of all waves, rose up 
 and shook its hoary head and shouted. The 
 next instant it had mysteriously disappeared 
 beneath them, and chaos had begun. 
 
 The bow slewed sidewise as a wave slapped 
 it and the crest shot into the boat. Paul 
 recovered and swung her back. Already he 
 was drenched and half-blinded with spray. 
 Then, the first shock past, the exhilaration of 
 the struggle thrilled him. His brain cleared 
 and he felt himself possessed by an exultant, 
 savage joy of power the power of man con- 
 quering blind, destructive nature.
 
 A Test 107 
 
 Now the clamour was deafening and the 
 water one mass of leaping white interspersed 
 with smooth black patches. Then, suddenly, 
 something suspended in the air rushed towards 
 the canoe, loomed large, seemed about to 
 strike it, and flashed by. It was Perkins 
 filming the wild flight. 
 
 At last when Paul had commenced to feel 
 that the world was all noise and motion and 
 drenching icy water, there was a final toss and 
 leap, and they shot out upon a wide, green pool 
 that was strangely still. The third camera, 
 stationed on a jutting rock, caught them as 
 they did so, and the waiting men from the 
 camp cheered. 
 
 The impetus of their flight sent them across 
 to the rocky edge of the pool and, as Paul 
 steadied the canoe with his hand, he looked 
 back. The others were not in sight, appar- 
 ently had not yet started. 
 
 Elsie Tanner climbed out and then sat down 
 suddenly, trembling with the weakness of 
 reaction. Paul, when he landed, also found 
 himself affected, and to recover walked slowly
 
 io8 Star of the North 
 
 around the pool to the point where the camera 
 man stood. 
 
 ' ' Here they come ! ' ' 
 
 Far up the wild perspective, now glimpsed, 
 now smothered from sight, tossing like a chip, 
 came the canoe. Sherman at Temple's side 
 was grinding steadily. 
 
 Paul's heart beat fast. What of Baillie? 
 Would he come through? Would he crack? 
 
 On they rushed, swerving and leaping in a 
 boil of foam. They swept past Perkins; they 
 shaved a jagged tooth of rock, and were in the 
 last descent. Then, in the final riffle, at the 
 lip of the pool, the canoe slewed dangerously. 
 Temple shouted an impotent warning, Baillie 
 tried to recover, failed, and the next instant 
 they had struck a submerged boulder. There 
 was a sharp crack as the canoe broke in two, 
 and the paddlers were flung bodily down into 
 the pool, the debris rushing after them. Both 
 disappeared. 
 
 It had all happened so swiftly, just on the 
 verge of success, that Temple stood for a 
 moment stunned and paralysed. Sherman,
 
 A Test 109 
 
 cursing in a monotone, methodically turned 
 his camera and continued to grind. 
 
 Then as Paul jerked himself to life, Baillie 
 appeared above the surface. He gasped for 
 breath and flung the water from his eyes. 
 Then recollection seemed to come to him, and 
 he looked about as if searching for June. Not 
 seeing her, he hesitated, and then with a 
 strange moaning cry of terror, struck out 
 madly for shore. 
 
 As Temple leaped he saw June reappear and, 
 as he swam for her, he suddenly realized the 
 danger of that still pool. All the force of the 
 tumbling water expended itself in swirling, 
 powerful currents that sucked down every- 
 thing that floated. 
 
 Five yards from the struggling girl she 
 disappeared again, and gulping a mouthful 
 of fresh air Paul dove after her. Already he 
 ached in every limb from the icy water, and 
 his soaked clothing seemed leaden. 
 
 Then opening his eyes in that sinister green 
 light, he saw her dimly and clutched her as 
 she went by. Luckily he caught her by the
 
 no Star of the North 
 
 collar of her deerskin dress, and had a little 
 advantage in the desperate fight up to the 
 blessed air. 
 
 The struggle became a nightmare horror, a 
 confused chaos of roaring noises and of vast 
 weights that sought to crush him. Then at 
 last he felt someone clutch him from above, 
 and heard a man's voice say indistinctly: 
 
 "Good for him, he's got her. Now haul 
 'em aboard. " 
 
 He felt the warm sun on his face, and releas- 
 ing his bursting lungs drank deep of the sweet, 
 life-giving air. 
 
 Five minutes later, somewhat recovered, he 
 helped the two men who had put out in the 
 canoe to lift June ashore. She had been un- 
 conscious when rescued, but already was com- 
 mencing to gasp and moan as her senses 
 returned. 
 
 They laid her on the rocks, and while Paul 
 tried to revive her the others ran for blankets. 
 At Paul's command those who had crowded 
 around stood back to give the girl air. 
 
 Then, gradually, June's breath came more
 
 A Test in 
 
 easily, her eyelids fluttered and at last opened. 
 For a moment she stared up blankly into the 
 face of the man above her. 
 
 "Thank God!" said Paul, with fervent 
 tenderness. 
 
 The voice seemed to rouse her, and with 
 clearer and clearer vision she stared up at him, 
 taking in one by one his wet face, matted hair, 
 and dripping clothes. 
 
 "Jack . . . " she said faintly, and stopped 
 all at once. Then in a voice of wonder: 
 " You Paul ! I saw you on the bank. 
 I " There was a longer pause as the truth 
 filtered into her stunned brain. "Then it 
 was you who saved me. ... Where is 
 he?" 
 
 "Safe. And now you mustn't talk any 
 more. Just rest. "
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BAILLIE PLAYS HIS TRUMPS 
 
 \ \ 7HEN Paul awoke that dawn under the 
 vigorous shaking of the cook, it was 
 to a feeling of delicious anticipation. Pushing 
 back the tent-flap, he saw the grey light and 
 felt the chill wind that precedes sunup of an 
 early autumn day. The pines about the camp 
 clearing were wreathed in a bluish mist, and 
 the river was obscured, but already the cur- 
 tains of haze were stirring. 
 
 He dressed for once without his plunge in 
 the rock-lined pool the men had constructed, 
 for this was the day of the deer hunt and he 
 must be at the fort at half -past five. After 
 the strenuous time in the rapid (of which 
 Fleming Magregor was still ignorant) Briscoe 
 had given the principals a few days' rest and 
 
 112
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 113 
 
 was filling in the time with some short stuff 
 he had on hand. 
 
 At the cook tent Paul shocked himself into 
 consciousness with two cups of scalding coffee, 
 and alight collation consisting of ham and eggs, 
 bread and butter, and pie. Then he went 
 down to the pier. On the way he passed 
 through the sleeping camp. The log shacks, 
 ten altogether, were completed now, and 
 occupied by some of the female contingent. 
 The weather had sharpened warningly as fall 
 advanced, and the nights were very cold. 
 Only the hardier women braved them under 
 canvas, though all of the men were still in the 
 open. 
 
 At Baillie's tent he heard sounds which 
 indicated the other's complete oblivion to the 
 world. But had he looked behind him as he 
 went down the hill to the river he would have 
 noticed a strange thing. The snoring sud- 
 denly ceased, the tent-flap was pushed back 
 furtively, and Baillie's bright eyes watched 
 his departure. 
 
 But a suspicion of such significant things
 
 ii4 Star of the North 
 
 never crossed Paul's mind. He was too happy 
 in the anticipation of the day to come. Step- 
 ping into his canoe, he pushed off into the 
 swift current and swept away between the 
 blue misty banks, an adventurer in the wilder- 
 ness. His blood tingled with the elixir of the 
 air, and putting aside all that life had been to 
 him, and all that it still might bring, he felt 
 the primitive, animal joy of mere being surge 
 through him. Today was his and he should 
 take it and be happy. 
 
 In token whereof he startled the birds in 
 the trees by bursting into a melodious bellow 
 of song. 
 
 "In smiling Bacchus' joys I'll roll, 
 Deny no pleasure to my soul, 
 Let Bacchus' health round briskly move, 
 For Bacchus is the friend to love. 
 And he who will this health deny, 
 Down among the dead men let him lie!" 
 
 As he neared the fort he was suddenly sur- 
 prised to see June awaiting him on the beach. 
 She listened to his musical efforts judicially. 
 
 "There won't be much use going hunting if
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 115 
 
 you keep that up, " she told him as he landed. 
 "Everything old enough to walk will be in 
 Alberta." 
 
 He waved her aspersion lightly aside. 
 
 "You should hear me sing while I accom- 
 pany myself on the mouth-organ. You're 
 not going with us!" 
 
 "Oh, no," she spoke a little hastily, he 
 thought "I'm just up to see you off." 
 
 "I feel properly honoured." 
 
 She laughed a little constrainedly and turned 
 up the bluff. 
 
 Paul found the factor waiting tor him in 
 front of the fort, granulating plug tobacco 
 with a clasp knife, and cocking an eye at the 
 weather. He welcomed his guest dryly and 
 handed him his rifle. In Magregor's handling 
 of the weapon, and his abstracted manner and 
 speech Paul recognized the characteristics of 
 the devotee, the zealot of the chase, a direct 
 descendant of Nimrod the mighty hunter. 
 
 "We'll strike eastward in the direction of 
 Skull Lake," said the factor, presently, and 
 swinging up the light pack he started at once.
 
 ii6 Star of the North 
 
 From the edge of the clearing Paul waved 
 June good-bye. She replied, but his half- 
 presentiment of other things afoot, of which 
 he knew nothing, increased. 
 
 Once the hunters had gone, June turned 
 quickly back to the fort and went inside. 
 An hour later she reappeared laden with a 
 variety of utensils and packages, and went 
 down to the beach at the river. By this time 
 the brisk northwest wind had licked up the 
 mists and the sun shone brightly. 
 
 Shortly after seven a red spot appeared on 
 the river up-stream and grew rapidly larger. 
 It developed into a canoe paddled by a man, 
 and presently Jack Baillie grounded the craft 
 at her feet, and leaped out on the sand. 
 
 He impulsively seized both her hands in 
 his. 
 
 "Have they gone?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, an hour ago." 
 
 "Great! And now for our wonderful day 
 together!" He laughed gaily, throwing back 
 his head, his eyes sparkling. 
 
 She wished to release her hands which he
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 117 
 
 still held, and employed some of her newly 
 acquired aplomb. 
 
 "Jack, do help with the duffle. I was going 
 to wait for you to carry it down the bluff, 
 but " 
 
 "Well, you poor little snow-bird!" he 
 sprang towards the offending provisions 
 "You shan't do another thing today. You 
 shall sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam " 
 
 "And help Mr. Baillie to paddle the 
 stream," she finished for him archly, and he 
 gave a whoop of appreciation. 
 
 At the canoe she noticed that there was 
 already considerable stuff aboard. 
 
 "Did you bring things, too?" she asked, 
 puzzled. "We can't begin to use all this in 
 one day. Don't you remember I said you 
 needn't bring anything?" 
 
 He laughed easily, and swept his mane of 
 dark hair back with one hand. 
 
 "Yes, June, dear, but you know how it is. 
 I thought perhaps there mightn't be enough, 
 and then perhaps I've got a surprise you 
 don't know!"
 
 ii8 Star of the North 
 
 "Oh, um! A surprise? What is it?" 
 
 They talked surprises until the canoe was 
 ready. Then, taking their places in bow and 
 stern, they pushed off down-stream. 
 
 And all at once the similarity of their 
 positions to those of the disastrous day at 
 the rapid, struck them both, and the sudden 
 chill of unexplained things crept between 
 them. 
 
 Baillie felt it at once, and talked on with 
 almost desperate gaiety. In their single 
 meeting since the catastrophe he had con- 
 tinually sensed June's unanswered question; 
 realized that he had lost ground with her. 
 His excuse for his failure (loudly proclaimed 
 from the moment the Graphics had started 
 back to camp after the accident) was that 
 the wrecked canoe had struck him on the head 
 and dazed him in the final plunge. 
 
 But this received little credit at camp. 
 For one thing he never offered to show the 
 mark of the injury. He faced a courteous and 
 careful, but none the less absolute, doubt. 
 
 He and June had spoken of the affair but
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 119 
 
 once, and then Baillie had pleaded his case 
 with a sincerity born of strenuous self -convic- 
 tion. He had convinced himself that he was 
 helpless at the time, and he did his best to 
 convince her. But he had felt when he fin- 
 ished, just as he felt now, that her attitude 
 towards him had lost some of its responsive- 
 ness. It was detached, withdrawn, as if she 
 were sitting in judgment. 
 
 Appreciating this, Baillie's eyes flashed 
 with sudden anger and his cruel mouth set into 
 a line of determination. Today he would 
 counteract this failure ; he would sweep her off 
 her feet. He had planned this expedition the 
 night he had heard Fleming Magregor invite 
 Temple to go deer-hunting, and he was going 
 to make the most of it. 
 
 They left the fort behind them and rounded 
 a magnificent curve of the steel-blue river. 
 The breeze was cool, but the warmth of the 
 sun tempered it and made the sparkling air 
 like wine. June loved the touch of the wind 
 in her face, and presently took off her jaunty 
 little knockabout hat with its red grosbeak's
 
 120 Star of the North 
 
 feather, and thrust it into the narrow bow of 
 the canoe before her. 
 
 And as the green and yellow banks glided 
 by, she tried occasionally to reply in kind to 
 Baillie's banter. But without spontaneity. 
 Her thoughts and feelings upon this crisis in 
 their relationship were too earnest ; her remem- 
 brance of the occurrence too vivid. 
 
 Her point of view was characteristic. It 
 was incomprehensible to her that he could 
 have funked that rescue, for with his impetu- 
 ous, passionate love-making, he had come to 
 embody her girlish dream of a romantic lover. 
 According to the world-old formula her 
 knight's virtues must be noble; his vices 
 splendidly melancholy and mysterious. He 
 may even have been wicked (how eagerly she 
 would forgive the penitent!) dashing, de- 
 bonair, reckless, temperamental, tender! All 
 these. But a coward! Never! 
 
 And most damming of all was the fact that 
 Jack had excused himself. In her ideal of him 
 there was no place for excuse. He accom- 
 plished, or, if he failed, his own death was his
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 121 
 
 one and unanswerable defence. . . . Dur- 
 ing these days she had pondered long and 
 deeply, and try as she might to excuse him 
 to herself, somehow she could not. 
 
 They paddled easily down-stream, sweeping 
 along almost without effort. Occasionally a 
 banded and crested kingfisher would drop 
 like a plummet into the shallows, or a fish- 
 hawk flap heavily along before them. Crows 
 scolded invisibly in the forest, and once there 
 was a great crashing of underbrush that June 
 said was the frightened progress of deer or 
 moose. 
 
 Five miles below the fort they came at last 
 to two islands, One was of good size, some 
 quarter of a mile long: the other, lower down, 
 was smaller, circular in shape, and thickly 
 wooded. With its outcroppings of grey rock 
 it looked like an impregnable fortress. 
 
 June turned the prow of the canoe toward 
 the larger, but Baillie veered it away. 
 
 " I thought we were going to Mink Island, " 
 the girl said, turning in surprise. 
 
 He laughed.
 
 122 : Star of the North 
 
 "Oh, I like the little one so much better. 
 You told me the other day it hadn't any 
 name" (they had passed these islands on their 
 way to the "take" at the canyon), "so I 
 thought we'd go there and seize it for ourselves 
 and name it." 
 
 "Oh, that will be fun!" She fell into his 
 mood. "What shall we call it?" 
 
 " Our Island. Do you like that? " 
 
 "Oh, yes! How do you think of such 
 nice things?" 
 
 They approached the tufted rock cautiously 
 for it showed no beach. The white birches, 
 their feet embedded in moss, grew to the very 
 water's edge, and it was by catching hold of 
 one of these that they finally landed. 
 
 Then they worked together unloading the 
 canoe, laughing with the zest of adventure. 
 
 "We're explorers," she said, "and we've 
 come down this river for the first time. No 
 one but the Indians have ever been here before. 
 Oh, I wish it were true. I've always so wanted 
 to be an explorer. " 
 
 "So do I wish it were true," he replied,
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 123 
 
 with a different intonation, "just we alone, 
 and no one else forever!" 
 
 When the duffle was unloaded Baillie tied 
 the painter of the canoe to a tree trunk* and 
 they "portaged their supplies inland," as 
 June's fancy described it. "Inland " on their 
 six-acre domain proved to be a little natural 
 clearing which both greeted with shouts of 
 delight. Immediately they made camp. 
 
 Then as the hours flew they fished from the 
 rocks in sublime disregard of risk, the tackle 
 for this being Baillie's surprise. And after 
 that came the divine hour of razor-keen 
 appetite, the incense of cooking things, and 
 the merry meal .... 
 
 When they had finished eating a more sub- 
 dued mood came upon them. June sat 
 leaning against a tree, and Baillie reclined 
 beside her resting on one elbow. 
 
 " If it were only true, " he said, softly, "that 
 we were here together, just you and I, to 
 stay away from the world as long as we wanted. 
 What a place for a honeymoon!" 
 
 She could not meet his ardent gaze, and her
 
 124 Star of the North 
 
 eyes dropped. His hand went out and took 
 hers, and this time she did not draw it away. 
 And while he held it he talked on, telling her 
 of his love, and all the while watching her 
 closely for signs of returning subjection to 
 him. 
 
 And she because that day together had 
 been so perfect, their companionship fraught 
 with such delightful untrammelled joy she 
 felt again his strongest appeal, an appeal that 
 at once lulled her feelings and stimulated her 
 emotions. So perfectly did he fulfil in every 
 regard what her imagination demanded of 
 him, that she forgot the one stigma he still 
 bore. 
 
 Wearied like children who have played 
 long, they sat there while the hours of the sun- 
 lit afternoon drifted away. And stronger and 
 stronger in the man grew the conviction that 
 he had triumphed at last. She seemed wholly 
 beneath his spell. And this was what he had 
 waited for. 
 
 At last with a little shock, she noted the
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 125 
 
 lengthening shadows and obliqueness of the 
 sun's rays as they slanted through the pine 
 branches, and roused herself .... 
 
 " Goodness, I had no idea it was so late!" 
 she said, astonished. "I suppose we must 
 start back now. It's a long paddle up- 
 stream." 
 
 The man glanced at her swiftly and a look 
 of cunning resolution hardened his face. 
 Then with a sudden laugh he sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Then you must sit here," he commanded, 
 "and let me carry the things down to the 
 canoe. The paddle up will be enough, without 
 your doing any of this. " 
 
 Ordinarily she would have laughed him to 
 scorn, but now she relaxed, finding a sweet 
 thrill in obedience. 
 
 "You see," she said, lazily, "we had too 
 much. You shouldn't have brought any- 
 thing." 
 
 "You're right, " he admitted. He gathered 
 an armful of supplies and started briskly 
 towards the landing place leaving her sitting
 
 126 Star of the North 
 
 against the tree. Half-way to the river he 
 glanced swiftly around and suddenly dropped 
 his burden in a nearby thicket. "We'll need 
 you yet, " he muttered as he hurried on. 
 
 He found the red canoe tied to the tree as 
 he had left it, and with another furtive look 
 behind him, commenced to work swiftly at 
 the knot. But the rope had been dragging in 
 the water that morning and now the constant 
 tugging of the current had drawn it hard and 
 tight. 
 
 Desperately he worked, cursing under his 
 breath, but before he could loosen it he heard 
 a stirring in the brush in the direction of the 
 camp, and the next moment, June's clear, 
 happy voice: 
 
 "I've disobeyed you, Jack! I just couldn't 
 sit there and do nothing, so I'm bringing things 
 too." 
 
 With an oath he stopped, and for the 
 fraction of a second stood stock still. This 
 was the critical instant. She was not yet in 
 sight, so, with a swift movement he whipped 
 out his knife, cut the straining painter, and
 
 Baillie Plays His Trumps 127 
 
 giving the canoe a strong shove, saw it veer 
 into the current. The trees, he knew, would 
 screen its passage from her. 
 
 Then he cut the painter that still remained 
 about the tree and threw it into a thicket. 
 The next instant he had sprung back along 
 the trail to intercept her. And as he did so 
 he thought with grim satisfaction of the deep, 
 flowing water that hemmed the island in. 
 
 Night would come soon and there was no 
 way of escape.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE RECKONING 
 
 "\ 71 J HEN after several hours' hunting Paul 
 Temple and Fleming Magregor had 
 failed to find as much as a week-old deer-track 
 in the wilderness, the factor could not conceal 
 his disappointment. 
 
 "'Tis na hospeetable, this," he complained 
 as the two rested by the sedge-bordered shore 
 of Skull Lake. "At the least ye might have 
 a shot." 
 
 But the "beasties" were apparently "fey" 
 that day, and when noon arrived the hunters 
 had found no game. After boiling tea and 
 eating, the Scot suggested a change of plan in 
 their campaign. He led the way across coun- 
 try half a mile to a plainly marked trail. 
 
 "This will take ye to a ford at the river," 
 he said. "You follow it slowly and I'll circle 
 
 128
 
 The Reckoning 129 
 
 north and try to drive something across the 
 trail. If ye get nothing, come out at the ford 
 at half -past four and I'll join ye there. Then 
 we can go home up the river trail together. 
 But" and his steel-grey eyes twinkled "if 
 I strike a fresh track " He paused. "I'm 
 only human, ye ken. " 
 
 Paul laughed out. 
 
 "I understand perfectly," he said. "If 
 you find anything, go to it." 
 
 The other looked his gratitude. 
 
 "That I will. If I don't come at half -past 
 four then, you start on up. I'll follow in 
 when I can." 
 
 With this understanding they separated, 
 and Paul took his leisurely way to the river. 
 He arrived there shortly before the designated 
 time, having neither seen any sign of game 
 nor heard a distant shot. Ho waited until 
 five o'clock and then concluding that the 
 factor had found his fresh track started 
 homeward. 
 
 By this time there was only an hour of 
 daylight left. The sun hung cool and yellow
 
 130 Star of the North 
 
 above the trees on the opposite bank, and with 
 its descent the evening chill grew noticeable. 
 Temple walked briskly. 
 
 After travelling a mile, the trail left the 
 water and cut across a neck of land made by a 
 loop in the river's course. Paul had traversed 
 this and had come out on the bank again when, 
 through the brush at the water's edge, he 
 caught a flash of some red object. Parting 
 the bushes he saw a canoe stranded against 
 the sand bank which the piled-up silt of the 
 river had formed here at the bend. 
 
 Surprised, he went towards it, and his 
 astonishment increased when he recognized 
 by the lettering on the bow that it was the 
 familiar red canoe from the Graphic camp. 
 He looked about him, wondering if anyone 
 could have landed here, but rejected this 
 thought when a search up and down the little 
 beach revealed no tracks but his own. More- 
 over, there was no evidence that an attempt 
 had been made to beach the craft. It lay 
 grounded broadside on, bumping gently with 
 the ripples.
 
 The Reckoning 131 
 
 Returning to the canoe he found the paddles 
 laid along the bottom in the usual position 
 of disuse, and thought for a moment that 
 the craft might have drifted down from the 
 Graphic camp. Then a flash of colour in the 
 bow caught his eye, and he saw the felt hat 
 with its feather which June had discarded. 
 Recognizing this, he divined at once who had 
 been using the boat. None of the Graphics 
 except himself and Baillie had ever taken 
 June on the river. 
 
 This much established, a sudden fear took 
 possession of him. Could some accident have 
 happened? But again reason told him no. 
 The fact of the orderliness of the paddles, and 
 that there was no water in the boat or any 
 other sign of mishap, made the eventuality 
 improbable. 
 
 How then had it come here? Through 
 carelessness when the others left it? This 
 was hardly credible either, since Baillie knew 
 enough to drag a canoe well out of the reach 
 of the current when landing, and June would 
 have seen to this detail instinctively.
 
 132 Star of the North 
 
 For many minutes Temple stood ponder- 
 ing. The very elusiveness of an explanation 
 made a mystery. Then there flashed into his 
 mind the recollection of his feelings that morn- 
 ing when starting on the hunt. He divined 
 now that it was not only to speed her father 
 and himself that June had been up so early. 
 The touch of constraint in her attitude had 
 indicated this. 
 
 He surmised that it was Baillie she had been 
 waiting for and that they had planned some 
 expedition together on what was also his 
 holiday. Paul's lips closed tight at the 
 thought. Even after the revelation at the 
 gorge and the deep gratitude she had expressed 
 to him, was Baillie still so highly in her favour? 
 Couldn't she see, didn't she know yet, the 
 sort of creature he was? 
 
 He shook off his half -angry thoughts and 
 faced the problem before him. How had the 
 canoe come here, and what should he do with 
 it? He settled the latter question by prepar- 
 ing to paddle the craft back, at least to the fort. 
 As he was about to get in, he noticed the
 
 The Reckoning 133 
 
 painter dragging in the water and walked 
 forward to take it up. 
 
 The rope ran through his hand quickly and 
 its shortness attracted his attention. Exam- 
 ining it, he saw at once that it had been cut, 
 and the strangeness of the fact made him pause. 
 The means of the canoe's having come here 
 was plain now, but the reason behind it needed 
 explanation. Why had it been deliberately 
 cut loose? Where? When? 
 
 The uneasiness that had been gathering in 
 him became distrust and then suspicion. 
 With both the factor and himself absent, had 
 Baillie sought to accomplish some end? 
 
 Without an instant's further delay Temple 
 knelt in the middle of the canoe and pushed 
 off. He knew that by keeping in the shallows 
 along shore he could make fair progress, and 
 at the same time look and listen for some sign 
 of those he sought. But the magnitude of the 
 task appalled him. 
 
 The vast wilderness stretching away on 
 every side seemed to have leagued its fast- 
 nesses against him. He had only one clue
 
 134 Star of the North 
 
 that June and Baillie had started on the river. 
 His chance was that they were still somewhere 
 near it. 
 
 As he worked his way up-stream the sun 
 sank behind the western bluffs and the swift 
 northern twilight closed down. A chill breath 
 rose from the water, and the forest at his left 
 roared deeply as the gusts of rising wind rushed 
 through it. Temple glanced at the sky. It 
 was clear. He would have the benefit of 
 starlight, and later, he knew, a moon. 
 
 But though he searched the river bank 
 closely for some signs of a camp or landing 
 place, and listened for sounds of human prox- 
 imity, he saw and heard nothing. That Baillie 
 and June might have landed on the opposite 
 shore he did not consider probable, as the 
 navigable channel below Mink Island ran to 
 the east side, and the western arm was com- 
 posed of shallow, stony rapids. Had the 
 canoe drifted down through these it must have 
 overturned. 
 
 It was long after six and quite dark when 
 Paul became aware of the black bulk of the
 
 The Reckoning 135 
 
 round, wooded island which lay down-stream 
 from Mink. The loom of it was ahead and to 
 the right, and he bent to his work. He had 
 been making good progress, but now he knew 
 the faster current in the seventy-five yard 
 channel would retard him. 
 
 Gradually the island came towards him, he 
 gained it ; he drew abreast. The brawl of the 
 rapids on the opposite side was so loud in the 
 night air that he gave up any attempt to hear 
 a human voice. 
 
 Then, just as he was about to leave 
 the island behind, the tail of his eye caught 
 a red glow of light from it. The next in- 
 stant this had disappeared as he surged 
 ahead. 
 
 He stopped paddling and drifted back. 
 There it was again, the uneven flicker of a fire. 
 Temple's jaws set. If the two he sought were 
 there, Baillie's plan was obvious. He would 
 try to use the fact of having stayed a night in 
 the open together as a bludgeon to force June 
 into marriage with him. Feeling that he had 
 lost ground after the episode at the rapid, he
 
 136 Star of the North 
 
 had taken this means to defeat Temple, 
 unless 
 
 Paul went suddenly hot and cold by turns. 
 If he knew his man, Baillie didn't want that. 
 Men in honest search of a priest don't cut 
 canoe painters on islands from which there is 
 no escape. Not for a moment in the past 
 had Temple been able to credit Baillie with 
 honourable intentions, and he saw no reason 
 to do so now. 
 
 With a dig of his paddle he swung the canoe 
 around and obliquely across the current. 
 
 Then as he drew near the island, above the 
 noise of the water he heard human voices, 
 mingled but indistinguishable. Still closer in, 
 they came again, and his heart leaped as he 
 recognized that one was a woman's. The 
 next moment he forced his craft into the over- 
 hanging growth along the rocks, and panting 
 from his exertions, listened. 
 
 Again the woman's voice rang out this 
 time clear and unmistakable, high-pitched 
 with a note of terror that made him half rise 
 from his knees.
 
 The Reckoning 137 
 
 "Jack! Please! You're spoiling every- 
 thing! Oh, let me go! You frighten me! 
 You never acted like this before." 
 
 It was June; frigtened, bewildered, de- 
 fenceless! With an incoherent sound Temple 
 leaped ashore, and tied the canoe to a tree by 
 its shortened painter. Then, carefully, be- 
 cause it was pitch dark in the undergrowth, 
 and because Baillie must not know of his 
 coming, he commenced crawling on his hands 
 and knees towards the sound. 
 
 He knew now that the girl must be discover- 
 ing the real Baillie at last that she had been 
 no party to this contretemps. The fear in her 
 voice told him that. The outcroppings of 
 Baillie 's true character in this unconventional 
 situation were revealing him. Aware that 
 circumstances often forced the people of the 
 north into unavoidably delicate situations, 
 Temple divined that June's acceptance of this 
 one had been frank and innocent, disturbed 
 only by the thought of her father's anxiety. 
 She had expected, of course, the same chival- 
 rous and honourable treatment that were
 
 138 Star of the North 
 
 accorded her on many a winter journey alone 
 with Indian or trapper; a fact which alone 
 showed how wrongly she had guessed at Baillie's 
 true nature, and how she had accepted his 
 self -gilding as gold. 
 
 Temple, dripping with perspiration, struggled 
 on through the undergrowth, his hands and 
 clothes torn, and his face scratched. The 
 earth was cold and had a dank, water-soaked 
 smell. Nearer and nearer he drew to the 
 murmur of voices. 
 
 Then, suddenly, par ting the bushes, hesaw the 
 clearing. The fire was not large, but it sufficed 
 to reveal the two figures standing facing each 
 other in silhouette, the utensils and supplies 
 on the ground, and the sombre encircling trees. 
 
 What the two had been saying Paul did not 
 know, but now he heard Baillie's voice, half- 
 indistinguishable, as it poured out passionate 
 words in a murmur of tenderness. He stepped 
 towards June, but she shrank back. Then, 
 as if goaded, the man seemed to lose all con- 
 trol, and springing towards her caught her in 
 a fierce embrace.
 
 The Reckoning 139 
 
 Then Temple saw red. As he leaped from 
 his cover a low, guttural snarl purred in his 
 throat, and his long, powerful fingers curved 
 prehensilely. But for the convention of dress 
 he had been flung back a hundred thousand 
 years. It was a Stone Age scene of savage 
 love and hate in the primeval wilderness. 
 
 Upon the struggling pair before they knew 
 it, he wrenched back one of Baillie's arms, at 
 the same time seizing him by the throat. 
 Then with a great thrust he hurled him reeling 
 back among the shadows. 
 
 June, after one cry of terror, recognized 
 Paul and called his name. Then, in the grip 
 of reaction, she broke into hysterical weeping. 
 But he did not hear her. Crouched, walking 
 on the balls of his feet, his hands half -stretched 
 before him, he waited for Baillie. 
 
 The other came, his face a white flame of 
 fury. He, too, had recognized his assailant, 
 and the thought that his rival, who had 
 shamed him once before, should have found 
 his way here and interfered as he had promised 
 to do long since, lashed him almost to mad-
 
 140 Star of the North 
 
 ness. With contorted faces and narrowed 
 eyes they circled slowly, silently, their breath- 
 ing hoarse above the merry chatter of the 
 little rapid. They faced each other almost of 
 a size and weight, and hardened by weeks in 
 the north. Suddenly Baillie leaped, and they 
 had closed. Baillie's hands found Temple's 
 head, and his bent thumbs felt for the eyes in 
 the old gouger's hold. Temple, blinded, 
 hooked a lucky right with all his strength close 
 behind the other's ear, and the torturing grip 
 relaxed an instant. Temple broke the hands 
 apart and got away. 
 
 June, her hands clasped to her breast, 
 watched, silent, wide-eyed, white-faced. 
 
 Shaking his head as if to clear it from the 
 fog of Temple's blow, Baillie leaped in again, 
 feinting for the head. The next instant he 
 had Temple by the waist and had thrown him 
 crashing to the ground ; and then with a savage 
 snarl he leaped for him, his feet drawn up for 
 the deadly lumber-jack's kick. But Temple 
 rolled over and over, and the other missed. 
 On his feet again with a spring, Temple met
 
 The Reckoning 141 
 
 Baillie coming in, and the circling commenced 
 once more. 
 
 They were panting now and their faces 
 glistened with sweat. But Temple had learned 
 the man and the game he had to beat, and was 
 ready. As he manoeuvred Baillie so that he 
 faced the fire, Paul leaped. He caught the 
 other off his guard and, with a left to the jaw, 
 felled him. Baillie was up in an instant, but 
 could not get set. A cold fury of determina- 
 tion to punish those two foul attacks sent 
 Temple after him, pounding, blocking parry- 
 ing, but always beating him down and back. 
 On they fought, panting hoarsely, battered, 
 tiring. 
 
 "Oh, don't, don't! Paul! Jack!" 
 
 It was June, appalled by their savagery. 
 
 Baillie turned towards her, half -whimpering; 
 but her great eyes were not upon him now. 
 They were fixed on Temple with a look of 
 awed wonder, almost timorous admiration; 
 the look of the Cave Maiden for her victorious 
 champion. 
 
 There was no sensational ending, no vie-
 
 142 Star of the North 
 
 torious, supreme effort. Crashing and batter- 
 ing, the fight went on with Baillie weakening 
 fast. He knew better than to beg for quarter, 
 and Temple offered none. 
 
 At last three final blows broke through his 
 futile guard, and he went down to stay. 
 
 1 ' Get up ! " Paul's swollen lips could scarce- 
 ly mumble the words. The other did not stir, 
 but Paul knew by his breathing he was con- 
 scious. He stirred him contemptuously with 
 his foot. 
 
 "Any more?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Paul turned away and went weakly towards 
 June. 
 
 "Now tell me about it," he said. 
 
 When the moon rose that night it looked 
 down upon a canoe in which a girl and a bat- 
 tered man paddled, and on the bottom of 
 which lay another man, groaning. The man 
 who paddled swayed in his seat, but the girl 
 behind splashed water on him and encouraged 
 him with cheerful, brisk words.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 TRANSITION 
 
 1WIOVIE work at the Graphic camp had 
 changed, but though the "Wilderness 
 Idyl" was delayed, and would be until snow 
 came, the people were not idle. A series of 
 one- and two-reel dramas, some in the sce- 
 nario, and some leaping Minerva-like from the 
 square dome of Tom Briscoe, kept all hands 
 busy. This was the short stuff that had torn 
 Goldie Burke from her beloved Manhattan. 
 And at Briscoe's order Temple directed some 
 of it. 
 
 Also as cold weather approached, a new 
 and important activity developed about the 
 Graphic general storehouse, a low, log build- 
 ing which sheltered both "prop" and commis- 
 sary departments. Two long, low, iron-shod 
 Arctic sledges, with gee-poles stuck out ahead 
 
 143
 
 144 Star of the North 
 
 for guiding, were hauled forth and examined 
 by the carpenter. Two score snow-shoes ap- 
 peared and underwent repairs. Rows of fur 
 and deerskin suits with capotes, leggings, 
 mittens, and shoepacks were hung out to air 
 and sent up a fearful odour of mothballs. 
 These, the costumes in which the characters 
 would traverse the snowy wilderness, had all 
 been brought from New York with the com- 
 pany, as Briscoe had refused to risk outfitting 
 his crowd on chance after reaching camp. 
 
 At the same time the country was being 
 scoured for bushy-tailed huskies or malamutes 
 to make the dog trains, and in the procuring 
 of these dogs Fleming Magregor was of great 
 assistance. He arranged with a young Indian 
 trapper to come and live at the camp in order 
 to care for and train the brutes so that they 
 would be in condition when needed. A pen 
 was constructed for them below the bluff on 
 the river bank, and as they were bought they 
 were confined there and fed into condition, it 
 being a habit of the Indians to starve their 
 dogs all summer.
 
 Transition 145 
 
 The first storm of winter was expected at 
 any time. Every night there was a heavy 
 frost, and the few hardy Graphics who still 
 braved the early morning plunge in the pool, 
 found a thin edging of ice in their bath tub. 
 All the women and nearly all the men had 
 abandoned tent-life by this time, and the 
 fires in the cabin stoves (sheet-iron affairs 
 freighted north by flatboat) were grateful 
 luxuries. 
 
 It was characteristic of Briscoe to realize 
 fully the situation existing between Paul and 
 Baillie and yet to say nothing. So long as 
 the work went well and his people did not 
 alter one another's beauty too much, he kept 
 himself aloof from their difficulties. But, 
 that he did not interfere after the fight was 
 only due to the fact that he had plans of his 
 own afoot which he wished to further. 
 
 With all regard for the romances of his prin- 
 cipals, he had his own ideas regarding June 
 and her future, and one day when the company 
 was out under Paul's direction, he tramped 
 down the river trail to Fort McLeod to lay
 
 146 Star of the North 
 
 them before her. After talking for an hour 
 with the factor, who spoke of a trip north 
 he would probably make shortly, June ap- 
 peared and Briscoe asked her to walk with 
 him. 
 
 "What are you going to do with yourself 
 for the rest of your life?" he asked bluntly by 
 way of introduction. 
 
 June smiled a little doubtfully at the large- 
 ness of the question. She seemed pale, Briscoe 
 thought, and he damned the lovers and the 
 romantic nonsense that had changed her from 
 the radiant girl she had been. 
 
 "Here's what I've come to say," he stated 
 abruptly. "You've got acting talent, Miss 
 Magregor, and looks, and nerve, and presence. 
 When you come on the screen, audiences will 
 know it. Best of all, you're new and different. 
 But you're raw and untrained; you need 
 seasoning and experience. Sign yourself to 
 work under my direction for five years, and 
 I'll make you the greatest motion picture 
 actress in the world." 
 
 The mistress of that lonely northern fur
 
 Transition 147 
 
 post stared at him, unable to reply. But with 
 a brisk gesture he went on: 
 
 "This is my gamble, but I've got faith in 
 you. There are ten thousand girls in America 
 right now who would sell their souls for this 
 chance. If you're what I think you are, it'll 
 make you. Fame, money, a chance to see 
 the world you'll have 'em all. But it'll be 
 hard work." He paused a moment. "And 
 as for the publicity material in you whew!" 
 
 When they had discussed the details June 
 was silent for a long time. Briscoe had de- 
 tected a change in her, but he had not fath- 
 omed its depth, and despite his half -angry as- 
 tonishment at her lack of enthusiasm she could 
 not tell him. 
 
 She could not tell him that two weeks ago 
 she would have jumped at the offer and con- 
 sidered herself the luckiest girl in the world; 
 nor could she tell him what had taken place 
 in that fortnight. She herself scarcely real- 
 ized. She only knew that she had been seared 
 by life, and that the glories of the greater 
 world he offered were turned to ashes and
 
 148 Star of the North 
 
 tinsel. They left her cold and unstirred. 
 Bruised and hurt, she clung now very close to 
 her father and the simple, familiar things. 
 
 But she did not refuse him. Profoundly 
 grateful, she told him she would consider the 
 offer from every point of view, and give him 
 her answer before the company returned to 
 New York. 
 
 Though Briscoe ignored the rivalry between 
 Baillie and Temple, the company was not so 
 considerate, and from the night of the fight 
 the camp buzzed with gossip. Difficulties 
 between principals are more or less open 
 secrets, but the climax to this one had come 
 like a thunderclap. 
 
 "They say," remarked Goldie Burke, "that 
 living in these here wildernesses full of animals 
 makes men go back till they're brutes them- 
 selves. Well, mebbe, but you got to show me. 
 I like my little ol' Gotham, but if there's any 
 bigger brutes than pads Times Square, day 
 an* night, I haven't seen 'em." Goldie, who 
 insisted on wearing her New York apparel in
 
 Transition 149 
 
 the face of the derision of the entire camp, 
 cracked her chewing gum loudly. "An* yet 
 I'm that lonesome, if anybody made a noise 
 like a taxicab I'd run away like a meter." 
 
 Though aware of the cloud of gossip through 
 which he moved, Paul cheerfully ignored it. 
 After the fight, he found absorption and relief 
 in the new work of direction Briscoe had given 
 him, and refrained from going to see June until 
 the first furore should have subsided. Baillie, 
 he was certain, after one look at the other's 
 features, would not go for some time. 
 
 Then one rainy morning about a week after 
 the trouble, when the poor light made it im- 
 possible to work, Paul paddled down to Mc- 
 Leod. He arrived in the midst of preparations 
 for the factor's journey. 
 
 "One of the Commissioners from Montreal 
 has arrived at Moose Factory on an inspec- 
 tion trip through the district, and father has 
 to report to him there, ' ' June explained. Then 
 she pointed to a tall, lithe young Indian. 
 " That's Jim Albert," she said, "one of our men 
 who has been at Moose all summer. He'll
 
 150 Star of the North 
 
 go up with father and probably come back 
 with him. They're going to chance making 
 it before snow comes. It will be close reck- 
 oning." 
 
 "And will you stay here alone?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." She spoke matter-of-factly. 
 "Someone must be factor and trader while 
 father's gone. I've done it often." 
 
 Despite the confusion at the fort June in- 
 vited Paul to stay to lunch. It was a hurried 
 meal, punctuated by the factor's orders and 
 the coming and going of his men. Imme- 
 diately afterwards Magregor and Jim Albert 
 started north down the Onipee by canoe, and 
 when they had gone, June with a sigh of relief 
 led the way back into the house to the low, 
 heavily beamed living room where a log-fire 
 crackled in the enormous fireplace. 
 
 As he sank into one of the massive, home- 
 made chairs and looked at the girl, Temple 
 felt, as Briscoe had done, the change that had 
 taken place in her since their last dramatic 
 meeting. She seemed graver, more thought- 
 ful, more mature.
 
 Transition 151 
 
 "Why haven't you come to see me before?" 
 she suddenly asked, looking at him with level, 
 dark eyes. "I have needed you." 
 
 ' ' Needed me ? ' ' Her direct piercing through 
 superficialities to the deeper, intimate thing 
 caught him a little unprepared. It was con- 
 firmation of the change he had noted in her; 
 it marked the difference in their relationship. 
 
 "Yes," she replied half -musingly, "it's 
 strange, isn't it, but I always seem to need 
 you, and you always seem to come when I 
 need you most. You see I'm trying to tell you 
 how grateful I am for the other night." 
 
 "Oh, please it was nothing," he depre- 
 cated. "I just happened to find the canoe 
 and " 
 
 "But you came just as you came the first 
 time at the rapid. And you were splendid." 
 Her voice thrilled with admiration, and for 
 an instant there shone in her eyes the same 
 look, almost of pride, with which she had 
 watched his conquering of Baillie. 
 
 "You must know" his voice was low 
 and vibrant with feeling "that I would al-
 
 152 Star of the North 
 
 ways come when you needed me, if it were 
 half around the world." His pulses were 
 beating fast and he found it difficult to breathe. 
 A swift, new wonder was taking possession of 
 him. Never had they talked like this before. 
 
 Her elbow was on her knee and her chin in 
 her hand as she stared into the leaping flames. 
 
 "I believe you," she said in the same half- 
 musing tone as if she were just becoming aware 
 of the fact. "You have never failed me yet. 
 That's the wonderful thing about you, Paul. 
 Whatever has happened, you haven't failed 
 me. Sometimes I have felt, oh, so alone and 
 helpless I can't ask father some things, you 
 know, and I've thought, 'Oh, if I could only 
 ask Paul ! He would tell me what to do. ' 
 
 "You trust and believe in me as much as 
 that ! ' ' He, too, was staring into the fire. He 
 dared not meet her eyes. Upon his senses 
 was stealing a delicious consciousness of her 
 nearness, and over and over, he asked himself 
 wonderingly: "What has happened to make 
 her speak to me like this?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' she answered his question. ' ' Some-
 
 Transition 153 
 
 times I think you're the only person or thing 
 in the world I do believe in." She paused a 
 moment. "I've been so in the dark lately. 
 I just couldn't see light anywhere. That's 
 why I've needed you to show it to me. But 
 when you didn't come I've thought of you, 
 strong and true and honest, and I've felt 
 that, after all, there must be good in the 
 world." 
 
 He sat silent a moment, fighting to keep 
 his head and see things clearly. All that she 
 had been passing through he could not fully 
 comprehend, but he realized that she had 
 turned to him for comfort instinctively, like a 
 child. And yet she was a child no longer. 
 Her look, her manner, her voice, all these re- 
 vealed the greatness of the change the week 
 had wrought in her. It was a woman who 
 talked with him today. She had told him 
 frankly that he was her only firm anchor in 
 the first storm of her life. Oh, to keep her 
 faith in him! 
 
 " There is good in the world," he replied, his 
 voice deep with conviction. "I know it. If
 
 154 Star of the North 
 
 one plays the game straight, and has faith, 
 things must come right in the end." 
 
 She looked at him with a little spark of the 
 earlier admiration in her eyes. "It's what I 
 thought you'd say. And it's what you'd do 
 play the game straight. You always have." 
 
 The words of unquestioning belief in him 
 brought him up sharply to face a relentless 
 question. Had he played the game straight, 
 knowing with every conscious breath that he 
 was not free? He pondered the point deeply, 
 as he had done over and over in the past. 
 And today again, as always before, his con- 
 viction was in the affirmative. To fight 
 Baillie for June he had done rightly. 
 
 But now? 
 
 Temple groaned inwardly. What did this 
 sudden change in June, her sudden need of 
 him imply? Certainly complete trust and 
 dependence, if not the dawning of love itself. 
 And that could mean but one thing: that the 
 Baillie myth had been exploded and the idol 
 lay crumbled at her feet. 
 
 And Temple faced this inexorable situation :
 
 Transition 155 
 
 The thing for which he had worked was 
 done; his mission accomplished. Then in 
 not telling her now all the truth about himself 
 he would be a cad ; he would be betraying her 
 faith in him. 
 
 In the grip of a temptation stronger than 
 any he had ever known, he suddenly left his 
 chair and walked to the window. His thin, 
 sensitive face seemed suddenly gaunt, almost 
 pinched, but from head to foot he was aflame 
 with passion, with the clamour of long-denied 
 yearning both of the soul and the senses. 
 
 With Baillie disposed of what was to prevent 
 his claiming June? Experience of life told 
 him that her instincts had pointed her at last 
 towards him. She did not realize it yet, else 
 she could not have talked to him as she had 
 just done, but he sensed that with the slight- 
 est touch the scales would swing in his favour. 
 
 Could he give that touch? To retell her 
 his love, but not his past, to see the dawn of 
 answering passion rise in her eyes, to claim 
 that swift, ecstatic moment of realization and 
 surrender; to live like two innocent children
 
 156 Star of the North 
 
 in their bliss for a little while this was what 
 he asked of life. 
 
 It seemed to him now that his whole exist- 
 ence had been ripening towards this consum- 
 mation ; he was convinced that a Plan stronger 
 than his own will had sent him north at this 
 time to meet June and to love her. Instincts 
 so subtle as to be unnameable whispered that 
 it was she for whom he had been searching 
 unconsciously all these years; she seemed 
 utterly to fulfil and complete his personality. 
 
 Clean, virile, honourable, he had served 
 five long years, and now must he risk his reward 
 by telling her of his hateful tie, and all the 
 wretched story of that sordid past? How 
 much that risk was, he realized fully, knowing 
 June. Direct as a beam of sunlight, pure as 
 one of her own streams, could she look upon 
 his life even his deceit to save her with 
 anything but repugnance? 
 
 So imperious was her unconscious call to 
 him, so eager his response, that his battle 
 changed its ground. It became a question 
 less whether he should tell of his earlier mar-
 
 Transition 157 
 
 riage, than whether he could get from that 
 room without pouring out his love and sweep- 
 ing her with him on an irresistible tide. 
 
 The walls and ceiling of the place seemed 
 to be pressing in and down upon him; he felt 
 as if he were suffocating. Somehow, on some 
 pretext, he never knew what, he found excuse 
 to leave. She followed him to the door a little 
 puzzled and bewildered. 
 
 "You will come again and often, now that 
 I am to be alone, won't you?" she asked from 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Yes, yes," he promised, "I'll see you 
 often." 
 
 But though the days passed in a fever of 
 work, the struggle within him went on without 
 decision. Because he was a man and human, 
 he could not risk the loss of her on a single 
 cast of the die. Because he was the anchor of 
 her faith and belief he could not bring himself 
 to transgress her ideal of him. So, torn 
 between the two, he waited, seeking con- 
 stantly for some ray of light to pierce the 
 gloom of his indecision.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BAILLIE MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 COR a week there had been the alertness 
 of expectancy at camp Graphic. The 
 guides to whose skill and management the 
 place owed its existence, once Briscoe had 
 created it, stared weather- wisely into the 
 sky and sniffed the wind. 
 
 "She's a-comin'," they avowed, "but she 
 ain't just set yet. A day or so and " 
 
 Then one night the sun went down in a 
 mass of sullen, heavy black clouds, and a high 
 northwest wind came sweeping through the 
 forest with the bellow of a howling beast 
 broken loose. 
 
 "She's sot," said the chief guide, "strike 
 them last tents quick!" 
 
 "Ah, ze snow, he come, I smell her!" 
 beamed Pierre, a vagrant lumber-jack who 
 
 158.
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 159 
 
 chopped wood for the camp. "Today ees 
 summer; demain ees wintear, by Gar!" 
 
 Supper was eaten that evening to the click- 
 ing accompaniment of hard snow particles 
 driven against the mess-house windows, and 
 when the party separated that night the men 
 could scarcely force their way against the gale 
 to their quarters. 
 
 All night the storm raged, and when morn- 
 ing came the Graphics looked out upon a dizzy 
 world of swirling white in which the figures of 
 the guides could be seen dimly as they struggled 
 to clear a few necessary paths. Not for an 
 instant was there a sign of abatement of the 
 storm, and all thought of work was abandoned. 
 
 The day of idleness was grateful. The men 
 lolled and smoked in their bunks, or worked 
 in relays helping the shovellers in their losing 
 fight against the drifts. 
 
 "My Gawd!" said Goldie Burke. "If I'd 
 a known I was goin' to be let in for this, I'd a 
 joined Peary and went to the North Pole." 
 
 "No, Goldie," replied Elsie Tanner the 
 women were sitting about the glowing stove
 
 160 Star of the North 
 
 in their bunkhouse "with your luck you'd 
 have picked Doc Cook, and had all your 
 trouble for nothing." 
 
 That night, isolated as they were from all 
 the world, made intimate by the close walls of 
 the storm, good feeling ran high. A vaude- 
 ville performance was quickly arranged; pop- 
 corn and other necessities appeared mysteri- 
 ously from somewhere, and the mess house 
 became the scene of gay hilarity: a warm, 
 bright picture against the desolation of the 
 raging storm outside. 
 
 Then during the second night the wind 
 stopped as mysteriously as it had begun, and 
 the Graphics went to breakfast next morning 
 through a dazzling white world overarched by 
 a blue sky. They walked between snow cliffs 
 as high as their heads. 
 
 Briscoe, who had spent the two days of rest 
 in his cabin finishing snow-scene and costume 
 charts, sounded the universal note when he 
 rose in his place at the head of the centre 
 table and said: 
 
 "Children, we've got just so much work
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 161 
 
 ahead of us here in this snowdrift. The 
 sooner we get it done right, the sooner we 
 get home. So let's go to it hard and clean it 
 up. This morning there will be a full costume 
 rehearsal to learn sledge-driving, trail making 
 and winter camping. The Indian tells me his 
 dogs are ready, so we can start at once. Now 
 on the jump everybody." 
 
 An hour later Peter, the young Ojibway, 
 drove up Broadway with his sledge and team, 
 bells tinkling, whip cracking, and dogs clam- 
 ouring a chorus of joy. Seven huskies, sharp- 
 eared and bushy-tailed, formed the team. 
 In the lead was a huge, brown animal, half- 
 wolf and half -dog. The long traces of moose- 
 hide extended from the sledge to his harness, 
 and the other dogs were in additional har- 
 nesses attached three on each side behind him. 
 The breast bands were adorned with little 
 sleigh-bells. 
 
 No sooner had Peter halted his outfit than 
 the dogs fell upon each other in one ferocious 
 free fight. The interested Graphics fell back 
 in dismay, but the Indian without the slightest
 
 162 Star of the North 
 
 excitement stood back, and, with his long 
 black whip, flicked pieces of fur and skin 
 out of the squirming, snarling mass until 
 the savage brutes crept whining apart. It 
 took a quarter of an hour to untangle the 
 harnesses. 
 
 The Graphics scarcely knew themselves. 
 Furred, with parkas or hoods over their heads, 
 mittened and snow-shoe shod, they looked 
 like a party of Arctic explorers. Some of the 
 women's costumes, particularly that of Mar- 
 guerite French, were almost priceless. She 
 appeared in a dress of otter skins sewed 
 together with the fur turned in, and presenting 
 to the weather a surface as soft and pliable 
 as chamois. The dress was exquisitely em- 
 broidered with coloured beads and porcupine 
 quills, and had at one time adorned the person 
 of a wealthy Eskimo squaw north of the 
 arctic circle. 
 
 Briscoe regarded the assemblage with the 
 eye of approval. 
 
 "You look all right," he said dubiously, 
 "but I don't know how many of you will go
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 163 
 
 over instead of through the first snowdrift. 
 Take 'em for a hike, Peter, and find out." 
 
 The dark-skinned youth gathered up his 
 whip. 
 
 "Mush on, you! Mush on!" he cried, and 
 the lash cracked like a pistol shot. The dogs 
 leaped against the traces, the sledge, loaded 
 with stone for ballast, creaked as it started, 
 and a moment later the Graphics were strug- 
 gling behind it down the silent, white-carpeted 
 forest aisle. . . . 
 
 Two days later "takes" had begun, and the 
 second phase of the work that had brought 
 them north was under way. 
 
 Everyone worked hard and, to the watchful 
 eye of Briscoe, none harder apparently than 
 Jack Baillie. At this time the juvenile was 
 an enigma to the camp. Since the fight on the 
 island he had seemed a different man. In 
 direct contrast to his natural character he had 
 retired within himself; was sullen and silent. 
 He was smarting bitterly under defeat, both 
 in battle and in love, and as Temple had been 
 responsible for both, all the venom of his
 
 164 Star of the North 
 
 unforgiving nature was directed against the 
 other. Hadn't Temple promised, that day 
 of their first disagreement: "When the time 
 comes I'll make your business mine"? And 
 hadn't he done as he had promised? More- 
 over, by so doing had he not cleverly cleared 
 the way for his own suit? 
 
 This was the most maddening, the most 
 insupportable thought of all, and Baillie, con- 
 sumed with hatred and impotent rage, had 
 sworn to have revenge. 
 
 But how? How to crush Temple even as 
 he himself had been crushed? 
 
 His stinging pride made it imperative that 
 he re-establish some intercourse with June. 
 As things stood now he dared not go near her. 
 The role of repentant suppliant always re- 
 mained open, of course. He was clever enough 
 to know exactly the nature and degree of his 
 influence over the girl, but he would only use 
 this means if every other failed. It was too 
 humiliating. He wanted to go back sorrowful 
 but unbroken, repentant but temperamental 
 still. He must appear as the double victim
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 165 
 
 of his own passion and her misunderstanding, 
 and seem really her truest adorer and most 
 stainless cavalier. 
 
 But this could only happen with the dis- 
 crediting or removal of Temple, and how to 
 bring this about he did not see. 
 
 During those first bitter days Baillie had 
 watched the movements of his rival with 
 malignant hatred, expecting him to go often 
 to the fort, in furtherance of his suit. But 
 as time passed and Paul went but once, he 
 commenced to speculate. 
 
 That Temple loved June, Baillie did not 
 doubt. The fact, then, of his abandoning a 
 clear field was incomprehensible except for two 
 reasons : either June had refused him, or there 
 was some thitherto unsuspected impasse that 
 restrained him. 
 
 The first of these he did not credit seriously. 
 A knowledge of Paul's relationship with June, 
 gathered from her, told him that the other 
 had not yet forced the matter to the final 
 issue. The second appeared more probable. 
 It was one of Baillie's most sneering admis-
 
 166 Star of the North 
 
 sions that Paul was "honourable," but now 
 the fact struck him with a sudden new mean- 
 ing and force. 
 
 "If he's so honourable there must be some 
 reason why he can't marry June," he thought. 
 
 It was the one door that might open up 
 the avenue of revenge. He sought for it 
 constantly, eagerly, performing his work at 
 the camp with conscientious care, but all the 
 time alert for some fact that would give him 
 a clue to the thing he sought a dropped 
 word, a conversation of men apart, or better 
 still, the gossip of women. 
 
 But his efforts were in vain. Then came 
 the snow and the change to the new phase of 
 work. 
 
 One day while rehearsing a "take" with 
 one of the sledges, he was guiding the cumber- 
 some vehicle by the gee-pole in front when he 
 slipped and fell, and the steel-shod runner cut 
 across his moccasin-clad foot. The snow 
 yielded somewhat, and he escaped with only 
 a badly strained ligament. But Briscoe, 
 taking no chances of a prolonged delay in the
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 167 
 
 work, commanded him to remain in camp for 
 two days. 
 
 Baillie obeyed. The first day he was con- 
 fined to his bunk, but the second he was able 
 to move about indoors with the aid of a cane. 
 He tried to dissipate the tedium of confine- 
 ment by reading or playing solitaire, but each 
 in turn lost its charm. He faced long hours 
 alone in the bunkhouse. 
 
 This building was little better than a prison. 
 Long, with square-paned windows, and built 
 as usual, of logs chinked with cement, it was 
 cramped for room and badly lighted. Along 
 each side-wall were frameworks reaching 
 almost to the roof which contained three tiers 
 of bunks. The windows were at each end, 
 and in the middle of the floor two stoves 
 gave heat. The clothes of the men hung on 
 nails driven in every available corner, and 
 their trunks were stowed beneath the bunk 
 frames. 
 
 The afternoon of the second day, having 
 exhausted every means of amusement at his 
 command, Baillie's thoughts returned, as they
 
 168 Star of the North 
 
 always did, to the obsession of Temple and 
 his projected revenge. 
 
 He glanced at the bunk where Temple slept, 
 and under it he saw his trunk. A swift, daring 
 thought came to him. He looked again at 
 the trunk. It was unlocked, as were practi- 
 cally all those in the bunkhouse, for the men 
 changing from wet things so often, had long 
 since ceased to lock their baggage. They 
 trusted each other with the mutual confidence 
 of long intimacy. 
 
 Baillie limped to the windows and looked 
 out. No one was in sight. It was three 
 o'clock, the hour when the camp hands laid off 
 in preparation for the work of dinner and the 
 evening. With a final glance, Baillie returned 
 to Temple's bunk, knelt down on the floor 
 gingerly, and pulled the trunk forward. 
 
 Lifting the cover he opened the tray and 
 saw hundreds of letters, done up in bundles and 
 bound with broad rubber bands. His eyes glis- 
 tened. If there was anything in a man's past 
 his letters would show it. But how would he 
 ever go through this mass of correspondence?
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 169 
 
 Then there suddenly flashed into his mind 
 the memory of his first disagreement with 
 Temple on the day the latter had brought 
 June to camp. That had been over a letter. 
 Entering Temple's tent he had picked it up, 
 opened it, and been reprimanded sharply. He 
 recalled a momentary suspicion at the time. 
 Had that letter contained the matter he 
 sought? 
 
 Owing to the circumstances Baillie remem- 
 bered the letter clearly. It had a lavender 
 envelope, was addressed in bright blue ink, 
 with a large, sprawling handwriting, and had 
 been scented. 
 
 Here was a clue and a plain one. Turning 
 to the trunk, he looked through the bundles 
 of letters, pulled from their places those with 
 lavender envelopes addressed in bright blue 
 ink, and hurriedly ran through them. At the 
 third he sat back with a quick catch of the 
 breath. 
 
 "PAUL:" he read. 
 
 "No I shall not divorce you. You can't 
 fool me for a minute with your talk about my
 
 170 Star of the North 
 
 'happiness.' Everybody knows that French 
 is crazy about you, and I suppose you want to 
 get rid of me so you can have her. Well, 
 there's nothing doing. I have suspected you 
 would try something like this for a long while, 
 but I won't stand for it. I am starting for 
 your camp at once. Perhaps you will like 
 that, you and French. 
 
 'Your wife, 
 
 "GERTRUDE." 
 
 Wife/ 
 
 Baillie's eyes glittered with exultant joy. 
 He hadn't even dared hope for this. The 
 most he had looked for had been a suppressed 
 scandal or evidence of a sordid relationship. 
 But a wife to whom his rival was bound, who 
 had killed all his hopes of release by this very 
 letter itself if he had prayed he couldn't 
 have asked the high gods for more. 
 
 "I've got him, the damned swanker!" he 
 said to himself savagely, as he thrust the 
 letter into his pocket. "I'll fix him now. 
 And may be this won't fix me right with June. 
 May be not!"
 
 Baillie Makes a Discovery 171 
 
 Working swiftly he rearranged the letters 
 in the trunk tray, closed the trunk, and pushed 
 it back into its place. Then smiling trium- 
 phantly, his thirst for revenge appeased, he 
 hobbled to his bunk and lay down.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BAD NEWS 
 
 HPHE morning after Baillie's discovery of 
 Gertrude's letter Tom Briscoe came to 
 the bunkhouse while the men were dressing. 
 He himself slept in his office, a corner of the 
 cabin devoted to the camp management, 
 where he kept his charts, scenarios, and notes. 
 He was always up and at work at the first 
 glimmer of dawn. 
 
 This morning he came to inquire after 
 Baillie's injured foot. "Idyl" was nearing 
 completion and had reached a point where 
 nothing more could be done until certain of 
 Baillie's lead scenes had been filmed. 
 
 Baillie, planning to slip away to Fort Mc- 
 Leod with his stolen letter when the companies 
 had gone out on location, shook his head 
 
 despondently when Briscoe inquired. Might 
 
 172
 
 Bad News 173 
 
 be able to hobble around a little, he said, but 
 wouldn't be able to work that day. 
 
 "Mm! Serious as that?" Briscoe was 
 concerned. "Well, take a turn up and down 
 the bunkhouse and let's see." 
 
 Baillie limped along groaning while a hastily 
 organized comb band added gayety to the 
 affair. Back and forth the director marched 
 him, observing his actions as if he were a 
 horse for sale. For some minutes the inspec- 
 tion went on. Then: 
 
 "You'll do," Briscoe said, shifting his dry 
 cigar from one corner of his mouth to the 
 other. "Dress for work. We'll take you 
 to and from location on the sledge, and with 
 that you ought to be able to walk through 
 your scenes. Borrow an ankle brace if you 
 can get one." 
 
 Briscoe's order rearranged the work for the 
 day, and because of this and the overcast sky 
 Temple found himself idle after ten o'clock. 
 He had gone out to finish a single-reel thriller 
 he had been directing, but the light in the 
 necessary location a snow-filled ravine was
 
 174 Star of the North 
 
 so poor that Sherman, the camera man, gave 
 up in despair. The day's "Idyl" scenes not 
 requiring him, Paul found himself at liberty. 
 
 As he trudged back to camp on snow-shoes 
 an intention that had long been forming in 
 his mind hardened into resolution. He de- 
 termined to go to Fort McLeod and see 
 June. By the clear light of calm and detached 
 reasoning, he knew now that he must tell 
 her the truth about himself and his marriage. 
 The conviction had come gradually but un- 
 compromisingly. He realized that for him 
 there must not be even a shadow's shadow of 
 doubt or concealment, or the whole structure of 
 his love could not stand. Moreover, he would 
 not accept June's love under false colours. If 
 she must send him away, ending all his hopes 
 and dreams, let her do so at once, before she 
 learned to care too much. 
 
 It was easy to feel all this now, freed as he 
 was from the bewilderment of passion and the 
 spell of her nearness, and for that reason Paul 
 did not blame himself too much for his flight 
 from the fort that day of their last interview.
 
 Bad News 175 
 
 That hour had brought the seething of the 
 crucible which had precipitated today's cour- 
 age and knowledge. 
 
 A third and less vital reason also influenced 
 him to his decision. He knew the crisis must 
 be met sometime, and he realized that the 
 longer he put it off the more difficult it would 
 be to face. 
 
 Releasing his company of minor people at 
 camp, Paul turned down the familiar river 
 trail. But it was not familiar now. Under 
 its muffling robe of snow every tree, bush, and 
 withered stalk had taken on a new identity. 
 Spruces, pines, and tamaracks showed delicate 
 tracery-patterns of black and white the 
 work, it seemed, of fairy fingers. Over all 
 brooded an immense stillness. The forest 
 slept stupefied beneath a vast quietude which 
 seemed cosmic. The day was overcast, and 
 the snow crust of the trail formed the night 
 before had not melted, so that a blinding, 
 grey glare radiated from the polished surface. 
 
 At his left flowed the bleak river. Leaden- 
 coloured ice, patched with snow, edged a
 
 176 Star of the North 
 
 centre channel of black water. Eventually, 
 the guides said, this channel would freeze also, 
 and the Onipee become available for sledge 
 travel, a thing considered hazardous now. 
 As Paul walked he faced a peculiarly biting 
 north wind which clashed and creaked the 
 armoured tree-limbs. 
 
 Despite the unexplained cessation of his 
 visits to June, Temple now went to see her 
 without diffidence. He felt that between 
 them there was an instinctive understanding 
 of the critical state of their relationship, and 
 that she would construe his absence as bearing 
 upon that. She would also know, he thought, 
 that his reappearance must predicate some 
 decision. 
 
 But as the trail widened to enter the fort 
 clearing, the old fear swept over Paul. How 
 would she receive his confession? As he 
 hoped, patiently and with sweet understand- 
 ing? Or bruskly, harshly, leaving him without 
 hope or motive in life? 
 
 The trail at this point followed the crest 
 of the bluff, and as Paul emerged and looked
 
 Bad News 177 
 
 down at the river, he heard a merry jingling 
 of bells, the excited yapping of dogs, and the 
 gay, ringing cries of a woman. An instant 
 later round a bend of the shore ice below the 
 fort, swejDt a team of dogs at full gallop, 
 drawing behind them a light cariole in which 
 sat June. 
 
 At sight of her a great gladness rushed 
 over him, an emotion which seemed to swell 
 to an indescribable exaltation. The next 
 instant, she had looked up, seen him, and 
 waved her hand. In response he stumbled 
 down the bluff to the river's edge and watched 
 her swift flight. 
 
 In perfect unison, the eight huskies, matched 
 in size and colour, sped up and down the river, 
 swerving to right and left at her sharp com- 
 mands, and causing the pendent fox-tails on 
 her capote to stream blithely out behind. 
 Finally, with a last curving sweep, she swung 
 about, drove to where Paul stood, and brought 
 up before him with a grand flourish. 
 
 "Merry Christmas, stranger!" she cried. 
 "How do you like my new turn-out?"
 
 178 Star of the North 
 
 "Snow-Queen, it's immense!" he laughed, 
 and went forward. 
 
 The dogs, regarding him with half-shut 
 eyes, sat on their bushy tails, panting, pink 
 tongues a-flicker. He could see now that the 
 cariole was a fancy affair of polished wood, 
 with a curved dash and luxurious upholstery, 
 a winter toy for a very princess. 
 
 "Would you suspect my dear, dour, grey 
 old father of planning this for me?" she 
 laughed. "I wouldn't if I didn't know him 
 so well. It arrived the day after the blizzard. 
 An Indian at Loon Lake worked all summer 
 on the sledge, and they matched the dogs at 
 Fort Endicott. And all for me! Imagine! 
 I've been training my steeds for two weeks, 
 and I think they do awfully well, don't you?" 
 She pouted. "But no, you don't. You 
 haven't said a word about anything, and 
 
 He flung up both hands in comic despair 
 at her breathless loquacity. 
 
 "That's not nice," she reproved. "As if 
 you hadn't had a chance to speak!" 
 
 "I'm struck dumb!" he shouted, and she
 
 Bad News 179 
 
 gurgled with laughter. ' ' And now that you're 
 helpless," he went on, "permit me to say a 
 few brief words in appreciation of what I 
 see here before me, and to scold you for 
 racing around regardless, on half-formed 
 ice." 
 
 While he discoursed, he noticed the details 
 of her dress. She was furred from head to 
 foot in magnificent silver fox, and quite un- 
 ashamed of fur trousers beneath her long 
 coat. Her vivacious face, framed by the 
 capote, was radiant with colour, and her dark 
 eyes sparkled. The realization of her abound- 
 ing, glorious vitality came home to him afresh, 
 as did the fact of her complete harmony with 
 the environment. Just as when he had met 
 her first she seemed to embody the spirit of 
 the green, wild places, so now she symbolized 
 the soul of the frozen wilderness. 
 
 "Oh, pooh!" she said naughtily, as he 
 lectured her, and leaping out of the cariole 
 seized his arm. "Just for that, you've got to 
 be ridden yourself!" 
 
 "Not alone with those grinning brutes,"
 
 i8o Star of the North 
 
 he declared. "They're slavering now at the 
 thought of my succulence." 
 
 "Very well, then, I'll go with you." She 
 dragged him to the cariole, and somehow they 
 crowded in together. 
 
 "Mush on, there! Mush!" she cried, and 
 the dogs leaped out eagerly. The girl had 
 no whip or other means of control, but as she 
 shrilled her commands, the leaders swung 
 instantly to right or left, taking the frail 
 sledge safely around the inequalities of the 
 wind-swept ice, and with the speed of the 
 wind. 
 
 Temple's eyes filled with tears from the 
 cutting cold, but he experienced a riotous 
 exhilaration. Catching the infection of her 
 high spirits he forgot the thing he had come 
 to do in the joyous zest of being alive, and 
 with her. 
 
 They circled back and came to rest where 
 he had left his snow-shoes. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Righteous," she challenged, 
 "if I'm guilty, so are you! Shall we have 
 tea?"
 
 Bad News 181 
 
 "Yes," he asserted, recklessly, "let's run 
 the whole gamut of crime!" 
 
 "Then you climb the bluff to the house, 
 and I'll meet you there," she laughed. "I 
 have to drive around by the notch in the bluff 
 below the bend." 
 
 Fifteen minutes later they were in the low, 
 trophy-hung library, chatting and basking in 
 the heat of the great log-fire. The almost 
 barbaric profusion of fur rugs on the floor 
 gave a sense of primitive warmth and comfort 
 which was heightened by the massive beams 
 overhead, and the small, tight-set windows. 
 Glowing and tingling with the frosty air, 
 their spirits matched their sense of gorgeous 
 well-being. Old Maria, the house servant, 
 brought tea, and in response to that peculiar 
 craving of the Northland they drank cup after 
 cup of it. 
 
 In their gay talk the past was not mentioned, 
 nor was Temple's long absence commented on. 
 Lightly, inconsequently, June played over 
 the surface of things with a delicious garru- 
 lousness that stimulated and amused him.
 
 1 82 Star of the North' 
 
 But the purpose of his coming was constantly 
 in his mind now, and he waited the indication 
 of a veering mood which would give him the 
 opportunity to broach it. 
 
 In an hour he felt the time approaching 
 and nerved himself for his task. But sud- 
 denly the girl, who had been sitting so that 
 she half -faced the window, sprang up with a 
 little cry of astonishment and looked out. 
 Then she ran to the window. 
 
 "Why, here's Jim Albert, and he's alone," 
 she said, her voice sharp with concern. "I 
 wonder why father isn't with him?" After a 
 moment's anxious scrutiny she turned and 
 ran across the room towards the door. 
 
 Temple had risen and he, too, saw the 
 Indian. Vaguely alarmed by the girl's tone, 
 he followed her into the hall and to the front 
 door. They reached the veranda almost as 
 soon as Jim Albert did. He was floundering 
 heavily, and wore what the others could see 
 now were broken snow-shoes. His dark face 
 was gaunt, and his eyes seemed unnaturally 
 large. He carried no pack.
 
 Bad News 183 
 
 As he reached the steps, he seemed to see 
 the anxious girl for the first time. 
 
 "Factor hurt. I come on alone. Tea!" 
 he gasped, and staggered on up the steps and 
 past them. Through the door he went and 
 into the kitchen where he collapsed in a chair, 
 half -dazed. 
 
 June who had grown pale, followed him, 
 and said a few sharp sentences in Ojibway to 
 Maria. Then quietly, quickly, she moved 
 about, doing what years of experience had 
 told her was needful. Temple, without a 
 word, knelt before the Indian and wrestled 
 with the knotted snow-shoe thongs which 
 were frozen as hard as iron. 
 
 Presently, revived by basin after basin of 
 scalding tea, Jim Albert commenced to speak, 
 jerking out guttural sentences piecemeal in 
 his native tongue. June listened quietly, 
 injecting a sharp question now and then. 
 When he had finished, and had fallen raven- 
 ously upon the plate of food Maria had brought 
 him, June beckoned Temple and led him into 
 the living room.
 
 184 Star of the North 
 
 "Father is badly hurt," she said, "and I 
 must start north after him today. You can 
 help me if you will. Jim will be able to go 
 back with me in a few hours, but there is 
 much to be done before that." 
 
 "Only command me," he begged. "I only 
 hope I can be of some use. Is the situation 
 serious?" 
 
 "Yes, very. A week ago father and Jim 
 started south from Moose Factory. They 
 counted on getting back here before snow 
 came, and left with only enough grub to last 
 a quick journey. That early blizzard caught 
 them, and they were snowed up for two days. 
 After that, they had to leave the canoe, and 
 come on overland, but they had no snow-shoes. 
 
 "Half-way down Jim broke through the ice 
 of a river they were crossing, and they lost 
 half their grub. Then on the edge of a ravine, 
 father went down with some loose snow and 
 broke his leg. Jim dragged him to a de- 
 serted trapper's hut, half a day's journey 
 farther on, and left him there with what grub 
 there was. That's where he found those
 
 Bad News 185 
 
 broken snow-shoes. He came on here. We've 
 got to start back today. Oh, poor father!" 
 Her grief and anxiety mastered her for a 
 moment, but she quickly regained control. 
 
 " But can Jim go back so quickly? " Temple 
 asked. "Let me go down to camp and get 
 one of our men." 
 
 "No. Your man wouldn't know the trail. 
 Jim can do it, I think. Scarcely a winter 
 passes but these Indians go through some 
 experience like this. He'll be ready." 
 
 Paul said no more, and for the next two 
 hours they worked fast, loading the travelling 
 sledge that lay ready in the storehouse. To 
 his relief Temple found that all he had learned 
 at camp for use in the "Idyl" now stood him 
 in good stead. His diamond hitches of the 
 lashings across the completed load won even 
 June's praise. 
 
 Under the circumstances, to discuss the 
 thing for which he had come to Fort McLeod 
 was impossible. He put the thought of it 
 from his mind and bent all his energies upon 
 his work. By three o'clock the sledge was
 
 1 86 Star of the North 
 
 ready, and with the eight splendid dogs 
 whining eagerly in the traces, and Jim mar- 
 vellously recuperated at the gee-pole, June 
 held out her hand to him in good-bye. 
 
 "You have helped me again when I needed 
 you most," she said with deep feeling. "I 
 wonder if I ever ever will be able to repay 
 you?" 
 
 He took her cold fingers between both his 
 bare hands, and searched deep in her eyes. 
 For a long moment they stood thus, and what 
 he saw in those revealing depths made him 
 thrill as he had never thrilled before. 
 < "You have repaid me now," he said un- 
 steadily, battling with a great desire to take 
 her in his arms. 
 
 "No, not yet," she replied, and released her 
 hand. 
 
 Jim Albert shouted to the dogs, they 
 strained to the first effort, the sledge creaked 
 as it left its tracks, and then moved across 
 the clearing with increased speed. From 
 the edge of the woods June turned to wave 
 a last farewell. Paul replied to it, and
 
 Bad News 187 
 
 the next moment the forest had closed behind 
 her. 
 
 All that day Jack Baillie had found that his 
 injured foot was rapidly improving. In fact, 
 so swift was its recovery that he declared that 
 he would gladly walk home that night in order 
 to spare the dogs. The location being but a 
 short distance from Fort McLeod, the thought 
 had occurred to stop there with his letter on 
 the way back to camp. 
 
 He arrived at sundown to find the fort 
 gloomy and deserted except for Maria and her 
 husband, a decrepit brave who performed the 
 chores about the place. When he learned 
 that June was gone indefinitely, his fury was 
 epic. And the prospect of the cold two-mile 
 tramp home along the river trail did not add 
 in the slightest degree to his good humour.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 REALIZATION 
 
 HPHE route that Jim Albert took to the 
 deserted trapper's hut, where Fleming 
 Magregor lay, was as direct as the crow flies ; 
 steadily north and a little east. He travelled 
 without trail and without compass, following 
 an instinct as sure as that of a homing pigeon. 
 Gaunt and haggard, but mute and uncom- 
 plaining, he plodded on, knowing only that 
 his factor needed him, and that June depended 
 on him. 
 
 The country they traversed was virgin 
 forest land. Here and there on a tree could 
 be seen the mark of a timber cruiser's axe, but 
 as yet no cutting had been done in the district. 
 Douglas spruce, and larch, rose tall and 
 straight, their branches feathery against a 
 cold sky. The graceful, naked birches shiv- 
 ered in the biting wind. 
 
 188
 
 Realization 189 
 
 The going was rough. It lay between hills, 
 across frozen trout streams, down gullies 
 and along ravines. Regularly the travellers 
 changed places, whichever was trudging 
 ahead to break a trail for the dogs, falling 
 back to handle the gee-pole, and vice versa. 
 
 Sometimes on level stretches or on the solid 
 ice of a stream, June or Albert rode, and some- 
 times both; while on downhill work they 
 wrestled desperately with the swooping, skid- 
 ding sledge, June behind at a tail rope, and 
 Albert ahead at the gee-pole. The dogs, well- 
 fed, fresh, and eager, worked hard. With 
 heads low, tails high, and pink tongues flicker- 
 ing, they strained to the task that was at once 
 their joy and pride. They seemed to relish 
 this test of their mettle, after whisking June's 
 light cariole about. 
 
 At last when the early sunset showed lemon- 
 coloured between the silhouetted trees, June 
 ordered a halt for the night. She knew to 
 the ounce what to ask of Jim Albert, and she 
 knew that she had asked it today. That he 
 would go on at her command until he dropped,
 
 Star of the North 
 
 past experience had taught her. But she 
 saw beyond this day's travel, great though 
 her anxiety and her father's need were. Dur- 
 ing the next few days there might be greater 
 demands on them both, and it was then that 
 they must be ready. 
 
 They selected for their camp a spot under- 
 neath the high north bank of a little stream, a 
 spot so sheltered that but an inch or two of 
 snow had drifted in during the recent blizzard. 
 June helped Jim unharness the dogs, and, as 
 always after a day's travel, examined the pads 
 of their feet for cuts or bruises. Then, while 
 she unlashed the sledge load, Jim chopped a 
 hole in the ice of the stream for the dogs to 
 drink, and set about gathering sufficient wood 
 for that night and the following morning. 
 
 Next, June cleared a place for the fire and 
 unpacked the lighter supplies, grub, utensils, 
 and blankets. The pitching of the tent she 
 left to Jim Albert. Unquestioningly she 
 shared the common labour, for now they were 
 beyond the pale of race or caste. Though 
 they did not know it, they represented the
 
 Realization 191 
 
 inconceivable bravery of the human soul. 
 Together and alone, surrounded by the pitiless 
 desolation, they dared nature's forces which, 
 should they make one slip, stood ready to 
 crush them. On every hand, inimitably, it 
 seemed, stretched the wilderness. In it there 
 was no help, no hope; from it no appeal. Life 
 here was stripped to its lowest terms; to 
 terms of food and warmth, to the one primal 
 need of keeping the spark of life burning. 
 
 With the camp-fire crackling cheerfully 
 Jim Albert thawed out the frozen, dried fish he 
 had brought for the dogs, and gave them their 
 one daily meal. When they had finished, 
 the animals made their own beds, digging 
 warm nests in the snow-drifts along the 
 bank. 
 
 June had brought the tent for the sake of 
 privacy rather than for any added warmth it 
 would give her. The really severe weather 
 of the winter had not yet come, and she would 
 have been perfectly comfortable curled up 
 beside the fire in her sleeping-bag, like Jim 
 
 Albert. But now she emphasized their differ- 
 13
 
 192 Star of the North 
 
 ence in caste as well as sex, for the factor's 
 daughter is the true princess of the North. 
 
 Together they cooked supper and ate it. 
 They talked little and then only about the 
 disaster that had sent them on this journey. 
 Jim washed the dishes in the remainder of 
 the warm melted snow water, and a few 
 minutes later June withdrew to her tent. Jim 
 prepared for the night, and in half an hour, 
 except for the glow of the fire and the motion- 
 less figure of the Indian beside it, there was 
 no sign of life in the little camp. It was as if 
 it had been absorbed into the immensity of 
 the universal stillness. 
 
 The first crack of dawn found the Indian 
 stirring, almost recovered from his hardship 
 of the previous day. Breakfast was ready 
 when June appeared, and they ate heartily. 
 Then, loading the sledge with the skill of long 
 practice they set out again, plodding doggedly 
 into the trackless wastes, just as the sun rose 
 full-globed above the south-east horizon. 
 
 For almost three days this was their exist- 
 ence, an existence of few words and great
 
 Realization 193 
 
 effort, wrought out under a vast silence and 
 in inconceivable loneliness. The creak of the 
 sledge, the commands to the dogs, the white 
 vapour of their breath, these were the tokens 
 of animate things moving in a vast region of 
 death. 
 
 But though they spoke little, June thought 
 much. Fear for her father haunted her, but 
 with the patient endurance, almost fatalism, 
 that her environment had imposed upon her, 
 she purposely turned her mind to other things. 
 
 Oftenest she thought of Temple, of Baillie, 
 and of the strange events that had so recently 
 entered her life to change and influence it. 
 The farther she went from the scene of it all, 
 the clearer, more detached, became her point 
 of view. It was as if she had climbed some 
 mountain and viewed things at last in their 
 true perspective. 
 
 She had passed through much since that 
 night of dread and terror on the island. Her 
 first emotions had concerned her realization of 
 Baillie's utter unworthiness. That final disil- 
 lusionment and wreck of her girlish romance
 
 194 Star of the North 
 
 had been a bitter experience. With her ideal 
 had gone for a while faith in life, in human- 
 kind, in everything. This was the phase she 
 had been passing through the day Briscoe 
 came to her with his offer of patronage. 
 
 Then in the midst of her overwhelming de- 
 pression had come the memory of Temple, 
 and of what he had brought into her life com- 
 pared with Baillie. Brave, steadfast, quiet, 
 always equal to the occasion, ringing true as 
 pure metal, he had come gradually to repre- 
 sent (to her) the one refutation of humanity's 
 baseness as typified by Baillie. He became 
 her anchor to windward, the unassailable evi- 
 dence of fine, true things. He saved her from 
 bitter cynicism and a distorted image of life. 
 
 At this period her strongest feeling for 
 Temple had been one of gratitude, a gratitude 
 which she had tried vainly to express that day 
 at the Fort. His startling reply to this effort, 
 in abruptly leaving her, had bewildered and 
 hurt her a little, but though she did not under- 
 stand it, she did not waver in her allegiance 
 to him.
 
 Realization 195 
 
 That he loved her she knew. Not only 
 had he told her so, but his every look and 
 deed proved it. This being so, and he being 
 what he was, this action must have had its 
 good and sufficient reason, she felt. His sub- 
 sequent long absence had given her time for 
 meditation and for the final clarifying of her 
 feelings. Just as with Temple, it had wit- 
 nessed the realization of an approaching 
 crisis in their relations. 
 
 This came in a strange guise. As day after 
 day went by and she did not see Paul, she fell 
 to dreaming of him. Alone at the Fort, she 
 built for herself a world peopled only by 
 themselves. She re-lived in imagination many 
 of the things they had done together, recalled 
 their talks, grave and gay. And gradually, 
 as if he had been an essence, he commenced to 
 permeate her life, to take possession of it. 
 No waking or sleeping thought was free from 
 his influence. 
 
 And because she had progressed from a 
 girlish worship of his physical prowess to a 
 woman's consciousness of his splendour in
 
 196 Star of the North 
 
 deeper things, a new glory that was inexpressi- 
 ble came to surround him. The knowledge 
 came at last that she loved him, and alone 
 there she had gloried in it, singing and laugh- 
 ing through days of ecstasy when life had 
 seemed too poignantly perfect to be true. 
 He had found her in such a mood that morning 
 of the ride upon the river ice. 
 
 Now, trudging along unbroken trails in the 
 teeth of a cruel wind, every step taking her 
 farther and farther from Paul, her heart cried 
 out for him in this time of trouble. She 
 longed to lean upon his calm, efficient strength 
 she who had never leaned on anybody 
 and to hear his words of comfort and courage. 
 
 But since that could not be, she found 
 solace in the thought of that moment of fare- 
 well at the Fort. The memory of it quickened 
 her with a strange, wild gladness, a delicious 
 confusion. Then, as never before, she had 
 felt the pull of that mighty hidden current of 
 passion in Temple's nature. Compared with 
 it the magnetism that Baillie had exerted upon 
 her was as nothing. By its very suggestion of
 
 Realization 197 
 
 undreamed depths it made her quiver with 
 strange instinctive urgencies she dared not 
 analyse. 
 
 And at such moments as these she saw 
 clearly and finally the difference between her 
 former feeling for Baillie and the one she now 
 held for Paul. The first had been infatuation ; 
 hectic, opalescent of tinsel and froth; this 
 was love: deep, irresistible, permanent. The 
 one was of the flesh, merely; the other a har- 
 mony of flesh, mind, and spirit, that trinity 
 of life all parts of which are equal in holiness 
 and beauty. 
 
 Bent forward against the wind, dog-weary 
 after the frozen miles, she thought of these 
 things; and the grim, waiting wilderness, the 
 cold, the hunger, and the bodily fatigue, be- 
 came as nothing. The world seemed a place 
 warm and beautiful, and coloured with the 
 glow of unspeakable dreams.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM 
 
 [T was almost four o'clock on the afternoon 
 of the third day that Jim Albert broke 
 through an alder and hazel thicket, and came 
 out upon the sloping shore of a little lake. 
 One swift glance and he gave a grunt of satis- 
 faction. A moment later when June and the 
 dogs reached him, he pointed silently across it. 
 On the opposite shore, half a mile away, stood 
 a small log cabin. 
 
 The girl through the fog of her weariness 
 drew a quick breath. 
 
 "You left him there?" she asked, and 
 searched uneasily for the plume of wood- 
 smoke from the distant chimney that would 
 tell of life within. 
 
 The Indian nodded. Then he pointed to 
 
 the sledge. 
 
 198
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 199 
 
 "Missy ride; maybe Jim ride too." 
 
 With the deliberate movements of complete 
 exhaustion, the girl walked to the sledge and 
 sank down on the duffle bag. Then because 
 the wind-swept ice offered excellent surface, 
 Jim followed her example, and mushed on the 
 dogs. They responded well, but not with the 
 fire of three days before. 
 
 The whole party showed the effects of their 
 effort. On the trail by sunup daily, and 
 travelling until after dark, each hour and 
 minute had been a constant effort for speed, 
 more speed, in their race against time. Jim 
 Albert, in poor condition when the trip 
 started, was constantly at the limit of his 
 strength, and June, though always physically 
 fit, had begun to fail under the sudden ab- 
 normal demand. 
 
 The huskies, as if sensing the end of the 
 journey, bent to the work, and swinging wide 
 to Jim's "gee" and "haw" snaked the sledge 
 across the lake at a lope. The girl with 
 constantly growing anxiety searched the clear 
 air for the welcome smoke trail as they drew
 
 200 Star of the North 
 
 near the northern shore, but there was no 
 trace of it. 
 
 "You left father plenty of wood and 
 matches?" she asked the Indian. 
 
 "Yes. After we fix him leg I cut heap 
 wood. Pile um by bunk." 
 
 With a merry jingle of harness bells the 
 dogs took the sloping bank with a rush and 
 came to rest at the top panting and steaming. 
 June leaped off the sledge and hurried to the 
 cabin. The heavy door of half logs was shut, 
 and the small-paned windows covered thickly 
 with hoar frost. The latter fact frightened the 
 girl, for it meant that there was little if any 
 heat inside. She pushed open the door and 
 went in. The air was deadly chill. 
 
 The hut consisted of one room almost 
 square and about eighteen by fifteen feet in 
 size. In the centre stood a small, pot-bellied 
 iron stove red with rust, the sheet-tin stove, 
 pipe of which pierced a ceiling of loose poles 
 and a roof of slabs. On the floor to the 
 right were a few sticks of wood and, within 
 hand-reach a rude bunk made of caribou
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 201 
 
 skin stretched on a framework of birch 
 poles. 
 
 Here June found her father, wrapped in 
 sleeping-robes and blankets, and, to judge by 
 his quick breathing, apparently asleep. She 
 went towards him eagerly, but, with the quick 
 precaution of her training, laid her hand upon 
 the stove even as she knelt beside him. Its 
 faint warmth told her that the fire had not 
 been dead long, and that they had arrived 
 just in time. Another twelve hours would 
 have made their trip in vain. 
 
 Quickly, practically, she appraised her 
 father's condition. He was sleeping heavily 
 but unnaturally. A bright spot of fever 
 burned in each cheek and he muttered in de- 
 lirium. She knew that he lay in the fever 
 coma that was the result of his injury and 
 the exposure that had followed it. 
 
 Stepping to the door she called Jim and 
 together they set about the urgent work of 
 fire-making, their fatigue forgotten in the joy 
 of their success. As June worked, she took 
 in other details of her surroundings. It was
 
 202 Star of the North 
 
 obvious, as Jim had said, that the cabin was 
 a deserted trapper's hut. Visible chinks in 
 the log walls and a puddle of melted snow 
 water on the floor, which told of a leaky roof, 
 testified to its dilapidation. The wind whis- 
 tled mournfully through these apertures. 
 Fleming Magregor's was the only bunk. In 
 one corner was an old provision box, and in 
 another a rusted trap, broken beyond all hope 
 of repair. The dead weeds of the previous 
 summer still clung to the earthen floor. 
 
 Here indeed was work to be done, and when 
 the little round stove was roaring, and the 
 stovepipe crackling with new heat, they 
 plunged into it. As fire was the first necessity, 
 food was the second. June found on top of 
 the stove the empty tin dishes that had held 
 her father's meagre rations, and tears filled 
 her eyes at their pitiful, mute testimony to 
 his long days of hunger. With anxious haste 
 she melted snow in a saucepan and com- 
 menced the preparation of a broth. 
 
 When it was ready she succeeded, with Jim 
 Albert's help, in getting the sick man to drink
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 203 
 
 a little of it. The scalding stuff gradually 
 brought him back to consciousness, and he 
 recognized June and the Indian. Then after 
 taking the medicines June had brought, he 
 sank back to sleep refreshed, and with the 
 knowledge that all was well. 
 
 But the girl, with life-long experience of 
 wilderness accidents, knew that it would be 
 two or three days before he would be entirely 
 rational again. 
 
 The simple camp arrangements were quickly 
 made. June piled her usual mattress of pine 
 boughs on the floor by the stove and prepared 
 to stay by her father's side. She gave the 
 tent to Jim Albert and he made a snug bivouac 
 in the lee of the lake shore, though expecting 
 to cook the meals for the camp and eat with 
 the others in the cabin. 
 
 That first night and all the next day the 
 two stood alternate four-hour watches beside 
 the sick man. So great was their fatigue 
 after the race north, that they dropped asleep 
 the minute they were relieved. But despite 
 this they gradually repaired the cabin, so that
 
 204 Star of the North 
 
 by the second day it was a clean, wind-stopped 
 habitation. 
 
 "When take um factor south?" inquired 
 Jim, as he boiled the tea that noon. 
 
 "Not yet," June told him. "He isn't 
 strong enough to be moved yet." 
 
 Albert grunted and held up the thumb of 
 his right hand. 
 
 "Snow," he said laconically. 
 
 June looked thoughtful. Jim's aching 
 rheumatic thumb infallibly forecasted bad 
 weather, and she knew there would be snow 
 within forty-eight hours. Could they risk 
 the delay? She estimated their resources 
 carefully. With the ordinary blizzard of this 
 time of year, and allowing an extra day for 
 the journey south, she felt they would be safe, 
 though their margin for emergencies would be 
 small. But against this she set the incalcul- 
 able benefit to her father of the added days of 
 rest and nursing, and she decided to remain. 
 
 Next morning they made their final pre- 
 parations. Jim chopped quantities of wood, 
 guyed the faithful but declining stovepipe
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 205 
 
 with moose gut from an old snow-shoe, and 
 reinforced the chinks between the logs. Late 
 that afternoon the temperature rose ten 
 degrees, a black, ugly-looking mass of clouds 
 drove down from the north on a howling gale, 
 and the snow began. 
 
 At dinner the Indian came in breathless, 
 his dark face wet with melted flakes. 
 
 "By Gar, a bad one, ' ' he said . ' ' You no go 
 out tonight, missy. No can see, no can hear. 
 One blow of wind and pouf ! you gone. Dogs 
 dig in ver' deep tonight." 
 
 At seven o'clock he went, not to return 
 until morning, June having refused his offer 
 to share watches with her that night. When 
 he had gone she placed the two candles which 
 lighted the cabin on a stump, and draw- 
 ing the provision box close to the stove, sat 
 down to mend her father's clothes which 
 had been damaged on the disastrous trip 
 south. 
 
 About her was the constant clamour of 
 the storm, the trembling and creaking of the 
 cabin, the clicking of icy flakes against the win-
 
 206 Star of the North 
 
 dows, and the roaring diapason of the forest 
 as the wind swept through it. 
 
 And in her solitude she thought of Temple. 
 What was he doing now, she wondered. How 
 much longer would he remain in the North? 
 He had told her that the Graphics had almost 
 finished their work, and she wondered what 
 the completion of it would bring to them both. 
 The thought brought home to her more sharply 
 than ever before the contrast between their 
 lives, and she tried to visualize the existence 
 to which he would return. 
 
 The high lights of that existence she knew 
 from Baillie's glowing description of it, but 
 now she found that she could not orientate 
 Paul clearly in its setting, and she realized 
 with a little shock of surprise how really little 
 she knew about him. 
 
 Would he resume a gay, butterfly life such 
 as Baillie had used so often to dazzle her 
 ignorant eyes? Where did he live? Who 
 were his friends? He had told her none of 
 these things, except in a general way on the 
 first day of their meeting, and she tried to
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 207 
 
 imagine them. The result was a glorified 
 picture of him moving commandingly amid 
 a world of splendour. 
 
 Against this picture her own equipment for 
 the world seemed petty, childish, worthless. 
 Even though he did love her, she thought 
 mournfully, could she ever hope to keep 
 his love among the glorious, radiant crea- 
 tures who, she was sure, inhabited his uni- 
 verse? 
 
 The storm without raged in a sudden spasm 
 of fury, shaking the flimsy hut as if it were a 
 toy in the hand of a giant. The tiny rataplan 
 of the snow increased to a frenzied drumming 
 and the forest shouted its tumult. Then 
 suddenly there came a lull of almost absolute 
 stillness when, to June, the sputter of a candle 
 sounded loudly. 
 
 And in that moment there sounded a feeble 
 tapping at the door and a faint moan. Startled, 
 June straightened up. Then she smiled with 
 relief. Probably one of the dogs, unable to 
 find shelter from the wind, was pleading to 
 be taken into the cabin. The girl had just
 
 2o8 Star of the North 
 
 resumed her sewing when the sounds came 
 again, louder this time. 
 
 Puzzled and a little alarmed, the girl rose 
 and put down her work. Dogs did not whine 
 like that. Crossing the room she raised the 
 stick of wood that barred the door and swung 
 it open, only to start back in amazement. 
 The next instant a human figure swayed 
 towards her, and she threw her arms out just 
 in time to catch it as it fell. The storm, 
 sweeping down again with renewed fury, drew 
 a great draft of air out into the night, and 
 extinguished one of the flickering candles. 
 In the darkness June dragged her burden 
 inside, shut the door again and barred it. 
 
 Relighting the candle she returned to the 
 prostrate figure which she discovered now, 
 was that of a woman. Turning the stranger 
 over she saw framed in the capote of the rich 
 furs, an unconscious face, pinched and blue 
 with cold and exhaustion. A hasty examina- 
 tion revealed a white patch of frostbite on 
 one cheek, but the hands, when she had drawn 
 off the gloves, were unscathed.
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 209 
 
 Yet those hands fascinated June. White 
 and delicate, obviously unused to the toil of 
 their environment, the fingers were loaded 
 with rings whose gems glittered in the dim 
 candle light. 
 
 For an instant the girl sat dazed before an 
 absolutely insoluble problem. That anyone 
 should have reached the cabin, one tiny dot 
 in an illimitable wilderness, on a night like 
 this, was miracle enough ; but that it should be 
 a woman, and one patently alien to her sur- 
 roundings, almost partook of the supernatural. 
 Who was this stranger, and whence had she 
 come? 
 
 After the first moment of inaction, June 
 recovered herself and set about restoring the 
 other. Leaving her on the floor, she got a 
 basin of tea from the saucepanful which 
 constantly simmered on top of the stove, and 
 forced some of it down the stranger's throat. 
 Then she commenced gently to strip off the 
 other's furs. 
 
 These in their quality and completeness, 
 astonished the girl. Evidently their owner
 
 210 Star of the North 
 
 knew how to dress for the northern winter. 
 Beneath the furs she found a beautifully made 
 suit of rich material. 
 
 Chafing the helpless woman's hands, and 
 forcing her to drink more hot tea from time 
 to time, she applied the only restoratives she 
 knew. Finally there was a convulsive gasp, 
 a heaving of the chest, and the eyelids flut- 
 tered. A moment later they opened wide 
 and stared unseeingly up at the pole ceiling. 
 
 "There!" said June. "I guess you're all 
 right now. Drink some of this," and again 
 she offered the tea. 
 
 The stranger, as if roused by the sound of 
 the human voice, turned her head and looked 
 at June with blue eyes in which the light of 
 reason was rapidly dawning. 
 
 "Who wha where am I ? " she said faintly 
 after a prolonged scrutiny. 
 
 "You're in a cabin on Loon Lake," June 
 told her. ' ' I found you outside fifteen minutes 
 ago. You were out in the storm but you 
 fainted when I opened the door." 
 
 "Ah Oh, I remember now. The
 
 On the Wings of the Storm 211 
 
 storm. I saw your light ... I thought I'd 
 never make it . " Her imperious brows contract- 
 ed suddenly and a look of annoyance crossed 
 her face. "Why didn't you come sooner?" 
 she demanded with a flash of irritation. "I 
 thought I'd die out there. I almost did." 
 
 June looked at her in amazement. This 
 was not the spirit of the North. 
 
 "I came as soon as I could," she explained, 
 "and of course I understand how you felt. 
 But tell me if you don't mind my asking 
 where have you come from, how on earth do 
 you happen to be here? I had no idea there 
 was anyone within a hundred miles of us." 
 
 "You didn't!" It was the other's turn 
 to be astonished. "I thought everybody 
 knew about us. I'm Gertrude Mackay of 
 Al Bergman's Stellar Film Company, and 
 we're up here doing a big piece. Our camp's 
 on an arm of Loon Lake and I was takin' 
 a look around when that damn blizzard came 
 up. I was tryin' to find my way back when 
 I saw your light and just made it before I 
 keeled over."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CONFLICT 
 
 TUNE MAGREGOR looked with new in- 
 terest upon the incongruous visitor the 
 storm had brought fainting to that lonely 
 cabin on Loon Lake. Miss Mackay sat on 
 the floor drinking hot tea and recovering her 
 strength. 
 
 "You belong to a moving picture com- 
 pany?" asked June, astonished and at the 
 same time glad to have reached common 
 ground so soon. She set before the other a 
 plate of food she had hastily prepared. 
 
 "Yes; Al Bergman's Stellar Films, the 
 greatest in the business. And say, this big 
 piece we're doing up here, 'The Madgalene 
 of the Snows' will knock 'em cold when it's 
 released." Suddenly Miss Mackay set her 
 tin cup down beside her with a grimace, and 
 
 212
 
 Conflict 213 
 
 felt curiously of her right cheek where a white 
 spot on the flesh had begun to throb and ache. 
 
 "It's only a touch of the frost," said June. 
 "If it hurts too much go outside again and 
 thaw it out by holding your bare hand over 
 it." 
 
 "Me go out again in that!" The other 
 laughed. "Watch me! But dearie, you 
 might get a little snow to rub on it. That'll 
 do just as well." 
 
 June stared for an instant. 
 
 "No," she explained, "that's the worst 
 thing you could possibly do. If the rough 
 snow happened to scratch that spot infection 
 would set in and might result in blood poison- 
 ing. The bare hand is the only safe way." She 
 added a second suggestion that to escape pain 
 the other stand outdoors in the lee of the 
 cabin. 
 
 But Gertrude was obstinate, and compro- 
 mised by sitting on one of the rude seats near 
 the door where there was the least heat from 
 the stove. Quite recovered now, she exam- 
 ined the dimly lighted interior of the cabin
 
 214 Star of the North 
 
 from this vantage point and suddenly became 
 aware of Fleming Magregor. The factor lay 
 quietly asleep in his bunk. 
 
 " My father," June explained in a low voice. 
 Then she told her name, where she lived, and 
 the circumstances leading up to her occupancy 
 of the cabin. 
 
 "But the strangest thing," she concluded 
 with a laugh of amusement, "is that we started 
 north from one moving-picture camp and 
 almost blundered on another one in the middle 
 of nowhere. It's bewildering." 
 
 Gertrude, who had been obediently hold- 
 ing her hand to her face, looked up sharply. 
 
 "What moving-picture camp did you start 
 north from?" 
 
 "The Graphic. You see, it's located only 
 two miles up-stream from Fort McLeod where 
 we live. They've been there all the fall, but 
 they're nearly finished now, I understand." 
 
 "Just how much do you understand, I 
 wonder?" the woman asked herself; then said 
 aloucU 
 
 "The Graphics! Well, the world is a small
 
 Conflict 215 
 
 place! To think of being hauled out of a 
 blizzard by somebody that knows that bunch! 
 I suppose you do know 'em? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, nearly all; Mr. Briscoe and Miss 
 French and Mr. Baillie and Mr. Temple and 
 Miss Tanner, and a lot more." 
 
 "Yes, sir, it's the same old gang," said 
 Gertrude, genially. "Well, doesn't this beat 
 the devil! And I suppose Temple is still 
 playing their leads?" with an air of curiosity. 
 
 "Yes, of course, but" with a little un- 
 conscious pride "he's doing some directing 
 now, too. Short stuff with a punch ! " naively. 
 
 "Oh, he is!" The woman turned away to 
 hide her surprise and chagrin. This was news, 
 and the kind she liked least to hear, since it 
 glorified her husband. Furthermore, this girl 
 seemed to show a familiar interest in Paul 
 Temple. Gertrude's impersonal gossipy in- 
 terest in the doings of another camp had sud- 
 denly become localized. But the girl must not 
 suspect, and she herself mustn't be too curious 
 tonight. She rose and walked to the stove 
 and back, regardless of her thawing cheek.
 
 2i6 Star of the North 
 
 "Guess you must have thought that Tom 
 Briscoe was starting a squirrel farm when he 
 showed up with that bunch of nuts," she said 
 lightly, and joined the girl's laughter. "Or 
 maybe you took to 'em; some people do, 
 you know." She yawned. 
 
 " Oh, I liked them all from the first. It was 
 strange and new, of course, but everyone was 
 so charming, and but" noting the yawn 
 "forgive me, you must be worn out after your 
 experience this afternoon . How is the cheek ? ' ' 
 She rose and lifted the candle to examine it. 
 "Oh, doing nicely. I'll put something on 
 for the night and by morning the worst will 
 be over." 
 
 The storm which seemed to have increased 
 in intensity rather than abated, shook the 
 cabin with its fierce gusts, thuttering down 
 the chimney and swaying the candle flames. 
 
 Gertrude Mackay looked about her. She 
 saw a blanket-covered pile of spruce boughs 
 within arm's reach of the sleeping factor; that 
 was all. 
 
 "Where am I to sleep?" she asked.
 
 Conflict 217 
 
 "There/' said June, pointing to the wilder- 
 ness bed hospitably. "I'll roll up on the 
 floor near the stove for tonight, and Jim can 
 cut me some sort of a bed tomorrow." 
 
 Miss Mackay, the cosmopolite, looked about 
 her, horrified, for some partition, some means 
 of privacy. Miss Magregor who had camped 
 alone with Jim Albert a dozen times hummed 
 a tune as she made her hard bed. The matter- 
 of-factness of the girl's calm acceptance of the 
 situation shocked this woman, some of whose 
 escapades had been the talk of Broadway. 
 After all, environment determines customs 
 and conventions. Twice she turned angrily 
 to protest, but a feeling that she was about to 
 make a fool of herself restrained her. Finally, 
 with a helpless shrug, she accepted the situa- 
 tion, and removing her dress crawled between 
 the blankets. 
 
 But after the lights were out her mounting 
 sense of injury and anger impelled her to make 
 one thrust. 
 
 "I suppose you people have to live with- 
 out the privacies and decencies of life," she
 
 218 Star of the North 
 
 said, "but one probably gets used to it after a 
 while." 
 
 June uttered some inadequate response, 
 and silence fell except for the black clamour 
 of the storm. 
 
 Between attending her father, keeping 
 up the fire, and pondering over the new situ- 
 ation that had arisen, June did not sleep 
 much that night, and she was distinctly 
 grateful when, at the earliest glimmer of light, 
 she heard Jim Albert stumble against the 
 door. 
 
 She rose, drew the bar, and he staggered 
 in with a great armful of firewood. Finger on 
 lips to enjoin silence, she recounted in a low 
 voice the events of the night before. He 
 glanced down at the white, beautiful face of 
 the stranger, imperious-looking even in sleep, 
 and shrugged. 
 
 "More people, less grub," he said, not in 
 resentment, but merely stating a fact that 
 was uppermost in both their minds. A 
 straight line of concern appeared on June's 
 forehead for a moment, but she said nothing
 
 Conflict 219 
 
 and set about getting the breakfast by the 
 light of the candles. 
 
 June's movements and the noise of the pans 
 presently awoke Gertrude who, when she 
 realized where she was, lay with eyes closed, 
 thinking. The talk of Paul the night before 
 recurred to her sharply. It was characteristic 
 of her that, though she refused to live with her 
 husband, she held in suspicion every woman 
 who knew him, as witness her jealousy of Mar- 
 guerite French. What did June's frankly ex- 
 pressed interest in him imply, she wondered. 
 Anything more than the usual feminine awe 
 of America's greatest screen star? She deter- 
 mined to use the day before her to find out. 
 
 Presently she let it become known that she 
 was awake, and yawning luxuriously asked 
 if she might have her breakfast in bed. It 
 was her usual custom, she confessed. 
 
 June showed no surprise. 
 
 "Why, yes," she replied, "if you don't 
 mind my Indian, Jim Albert, eating here too. 
 He sleeps outside in the tent, but we all eat 
 together."
 
 220 Star of the North 
 
 Miss Mackay sat bolt upright. 
 
 ' ' What ! You eat with one of those niggers ! 
 Really !" Words failed her. But pre- 
 sently, when June made no reply, she flung 
 aside the blankets and got up. "I should 
 think hemight at least wait till we're through," 
 she said, resentfully. 
 
 June, making every allowance for the other, 
 patiently explained the code of necessity that 
 lay back of these customs. By this time 
 Fleming Magregor was awake and June pre- 
 sented the newcomer. He was quite free of 
 fever now, and stoically patient under the 
 discomfort of his knitting bone. He learned 
 from Gertrude of the incidents of the night 
 before, and courteously expressed his satis- 
 faction at her fortunate finding of the cabin. 
 A few minutes later Jim Albert returned, 
 stamping and shaking himself free of snow. 
 
 " Storm no stop," he said in answer to June's 
 question. "Snow two days yet, maybe 
 three." 
 
 Through the square windows of the cabin 
 the dark morning light showed the white
 
 Conflict 221 
 
 sheets of flakes driving past and the trees 
 bending before the wind. 
 
 June who, with an extra mouth to feed, 
 had prepared a careful ration of bacon and 
 beans, served Miss Mackay first. 
 
 "Say, have a heart," said the latter amus- 
 edly, looking at her tin plate. " I'm hungry.'* 
 
 There was an instant's pregnant silence. 
 Then June increased her portion, an act which 
 automatically left less for the other three. 
 
 "I'm sorry," she said, "but you see we're 
 short of provisions, and we must keep enough 
 for our journey south. I must get father 
 back to the Fort as soon as I can, and every 
 day of this storm makes a difference." 
 
 Gertrude made no reply, but sat down as 
 far away from Jim as possible. Except for 
 occasional remarks, by the factor, conversation 
 languished. 
 
 June was silent. She was trying to fit her 
 conceptions to this new experience. The 
 woman, who had so abruptly projected herself 
 into a situation already serious, was a bewilder- 
 ing problem. Not only was she totally alien
 
 222 Star of the North 
 
 to her environment and its necessities, but 
 she seemed equally strange to the amenities 
 of social intercourse. June was for the first 
 time facing utter selfishness, and she did not 
 quite know how to meet it. 
 
 Gertrude had received the added portion 
 of food grudgingly and without gratitude. 
 What could be the life, past and present, June 
 wondered, of a woman who, knowing the 
 circumstances of the party in the cabin, 
 could do that? 
 
 It had been Jim Albert's custom to wash 
 the dishes and do what little work the cabin 
 required, but this morning June sent him 
 back to his tent with the assurance that she 
 would clean up. As she did so, Gertrude 
 with a sudden return of good temper and 
 vivacity, drew up one of the crude seats beside 
 Fleming Magregor's bunk and opened a 
 conversation. He was a little surprised. One 
 glance at the broadcloth dress she wore and 
 her jewel-laden fingers had told him that she 
 represented a type new in his experience. 
 
 While she worked, June was aware in a
 
 Conflict 223 
 
 general way that the talk revolved constantly 
 around the "profession," a subject on which 
 Gertrude seemed tireless and inexhaustible, 
 and when she had finished she joined them. 
 Gertrude welcomed her with a peculiar smile. 
 
 "I was just saying," she explained, "that 
 this Paul Temple you mentioned last night 
 is on the skids. These bunk heroes only last 
 so long, you know, and then they get the 
 swelled head or lose their looks. Temple's 
 doing both, they tell me." 
 
 Inwardly June bridled a little, but she gave 
 no outward sign of it. Was this, she won- 
 dered, a sample of the professional jealousy 
 Baillie had so often complained of, as keeping 
 him from his rightful place among the great? 
 
 "I don't know much about such things," 
 she replied gravely, "but I'm sure they're 
 not true of Mr. Temple. He's very modest, 
 and everybody in his company seems to like 
 him." Mentally she excepted Baillie. "And 
 I think he's very good looking," she added. ] 
 
 "Oh, you do!" Gertrude laughed a little 
 too loudly.
 
 224 Star of the North 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 But for the strangely inimical feeling this 
 woman roused in her, June could have poured 
 out a rhapsody, so deep and proud was her 
 love for him. 
 
 "You know him quite well, then?" Ger- 
 trude politely included Fleming Magregor 
 in the question. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he comes to the Fort often," said 
 the factor. " Wi' one thing and another we're 
 gude friends. There was that day now when 
 we went huntin'." He threw back his head 
 and laughed silently. Then while Gertrude 
 urged him flatteringly, he described with dry 
 humour the long, fruitless hunt for deer. June 
 could have added a surprising end to that tale. 
 
 "Yes," he concluded, "I owe him a deer, 
 but I owe him more than that. He saved the 
 lassie's life one day." Some time since the 
 factor had been told of that desperate adven- 
 ture in the rapid. 
 
 "Ah!" The woman's lips formed a smile, 
 but her eyelids had narrowed. "Do tell me 
 about it."
 
 Conflict 225 
 
 "You see," said June, "the reason we knew 
 the Graphic people so well was that they had 
 taken a lot of scenes at the Fort. I happened 
 to be in one or two of them by chance and " 
 
 "Oh, you're acting for the pictures too, 
 eh? A young genius right in our busy midst 
 and I never suspected it. No wonder you 
 know Temple well. But go on." 
 
 The white hands in her lap had unconsciously 
 clenched. Because hers was a nature which 
 in its endless self-seeking had never found 
 happiness or satisfaction, the knowledge that 
 Paul whom she had repudiated had found 
 these things was like a cancer in her soul. 
 She hated him for it, and she hated those 
 associated with him. Now she hated June. 
 
 Quite ingenuously and a little eagerly, be- 
 cause of this woman's obvious desire to be- 
 little Paul, the girl told of that day in the 
 gorge. And as, unconsciously, her voice 
 thrilled in praise of the man she loved, and 
 her eyes glowed in memory of his splendid 
 courage, the hypersensitive ears of the woman 
 
 opposite first imagined, and then knew that 
 is
 
 226 Star of the North 
 
 they were listening to a credo of worship, a 
 confession of love, pure and unashamed. 
 When she had finished Gertrude was quick 
 to applaud. 
 
 "Splendid! splendid!" she cried, and then, 
 quite pale, she sprang up and walked to the 
 door. "Whew! it's hot in here!" she flung 
 over her shoulder in explanation. Opening the 
 door she stood looking with unseeing eyes 
 into the white swirl of the storm. When she 
 had recovered her outward poise she shut the 
 door again and returned to the others, but 
 did not sit down. 
 
 "And how about Temple's affair with 
 Marguerite French?" she asked a little un- 
 steadily. "In New York they had 'em mar- 
 ried, you know." 
 
 June was conscious of an unpleasant shock 
 of distaste, but she answered calmly enough: 
 
 "That must be a mistake. Paul and Miss 
 French are good friends, but almost never see 
 each other except at work. She is not inti- 
 mate with anyone." 
 
 Gertrude Temple turned away again to
 
 Conflict 227 
 
 fight down the "How do you know so much 
 about it?" that sprang to her lips. Her eyes 
 smarted with tears of fury. 
 
 "So that's it, eh?" she said to herself. 
 "Then it wasn't French at all. It was this 
 one."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 REPRISAL 
 
 A GREAT light had broken upon Gertrude 
 Temple. Swiftly she thought back to 
 the letter she had received months ago from 
 Paul begging her to divorce him. That letter 
 had come from the Graphic camp in the wilder- 
 ness, and Gertrude had concluded instantly 
 that Marguerite French had inspired it. 
 Her reply, which Temple had received the day 
 he first met June, showed this. 
 
 Now the conviction of error came. She 
 believed that Paul, meeting this girl of the 
 wild, had become infatuated with her and 
 had sought his freedom on her account. That 
 June loved Paul, Gertrude was certain, and 
 she was only too willing to surmise that he 
 loved her. But what of the understanding 
 
 between them? 
 
 228
 
 Reprisal 229 
 
 Did June know that he was married? 
 
 The leading lady of the Stellar Films paced 
 the narrow confines of the cabin like a caged 
 animal. 
 
 "Anybody got a cigarette?" she flung out 
 in the midst of her meditations. "Lord! I 
 want a whiff!" 
 
 The polite bewilderment of her auditors that 
 preceded the negative answer, was the last 
 proof to Gertrude of the impossibility of these 
 people. And this girl had conquered the 
 man she had failed to hold! She experienced 
 the fury of an outraged dog-in-the-manger. 
 
 Did June know that Paul was married? 
 
 While the tedious, storm-racked hours 
 dragged by, the woman studied the girl. In 
 all she did and said there seemed to be a sub- 
 dued joy, an exaltation that was from within, 
 of the soul. Sometimes she sang softly; 
 sometimes a tender, preoccupied look filled 
 her eyes, and she seemed lost in the contem- 
 plation of some radiant other world. Thus, 
 without even the previous evidence of 
 glowing speech, Gertrude knew. Such se-
 
 23 Star of the North 
 
 renity, such faith and joy, could mean but 
 one thing. 
 
 Noon came, and dinner. Up to this time 
 Gertrude had not lifted her hand to help, and 
 she did not offer now. Apparently the idea 
 never occurred to her. She was a guest and 
 therefore exempt. If you took a stranger, 
 injured by an automobile, into your Riverside 
 Drive apartment, you hardly expected them 
 to do the housework, she reasoned. As a 
 matter of fact, Gertrude rather prided herself 
 on her restraint and good temper under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 Deprived of her maid and bath, both at 
 camp, this whole experience was very trying. 
 She might at least be spared menial labour. 
 But June, unable to conceive the other's 
 viewpoint, added this barbarism to Miss 
 Mackay's already long list. The women were 
 irreconcilably opposed at every view-point 
 of life. 
 
 Dinner consisted of bacon, beans, flapjacks, 
 and stewed dried fruit, and Gertrude regarded 
 the outlay with ill-concealed dissatisfaction.
 
 Reprisal 231 
 
 But she was so hungry that even the extra 
 portion that June gave her left her ravenous. 
 She managed to forgive the diet. But she 
 could not forgive Jim Albert's presence at 
 table. 
 
 Angered by this, constantly hungry, and 
 greatly upset by June's revelations regarding 
 Paul, she faced her hours of imprisonment in 
 an evil frame of mind. Outside the storm 
 raged on with a monotonous roar that was 
 nerve-racking. Gertrude felt like a trapped 
 beast, and paced back and forth lashing herself 
 into a fury of discontent. 
 
 Through it all June, though sorely tried, 
 kept a firm hand upon herself. Twice 
 Gertrude with bursts of ill-temper made 
 an open break imminent, but June avoided 
 it on each occasion. The result was that 
 Gertrude was baffled and left impotently in 
 the wrong. 
 
 She felt this, and doing so realized that this 
 wilderness girl who scarcely knew the "de- 
 cencies" of life was defeating her, keeping 
 the upper hand in their relationship, and with
 
 232 Star of the North 
 
 smarting pride she compared herself with 
 June in Paul's sight. 
 
 The result was costly. 
 
 The bit of mirror that hung against the wall 
 told disagreeable truths. Deprived for a day 
 of the aids which she had long considered 
 necessary to beauty, she looked sallow and 
 (to herself) unkempt. Little wrinkles at the 
 corners of her eyes and on her forehead 
 showed with startling plainness, and there were 
 deep indentations from her nose to the corners 
 of her mouth. 
 
 This was only the physical comparison; the 
 mental was equally disastrous. Twice forced 
 to change the subject when June had skilfully 
 turned the conversation upon books, her 
 poverty of thought, even of vocabulary, 
 stood out glaringly. 
 
 It was unnecessary to seek further. Gertrude 
 knew that if Paul had any love left in him, 
 this girl had won it; she was exactly the type 
 of idiot he would adore had wanted herself 
 to be. The stinging, indubitable fact that this 
 girl was her successor made Gertrude giddy.
 
 Reprisal 233 
 
 The thought was unendurable, not because 
 she loved Paul or regretted leaving him, 
 but because she could not support the idea 
 of anyone else succeeding where she had 
 failed. Her glances of fury promised an early 
 revenge. 
 
 Meanwhile June, serenely ignorant of the 
 storm that was gathering round her head, 
 resumed her sewing, interrupted the night 
 before, gave her father his medicine, and 
 sitting beside him they chatted in the intimate 
 companionable way they had. 
 
 At sunset came Jim Albert, with quantities 
 of wood for the night and spruce boughs for 
 June's bed. The candles were lighted and 
 June commenced to get supper. The meal 
 threatened again to consist of bacon, beans, 
 and tea until Jim, his round face beaming, 
 brought in a whitefish he had caught through 
 a hole in the ice of the lake. 
 
 The fact averted an outburst from Gertrude 
 whose patience with everything, especially 
 the diet, was at an end. After the meal she 
 deliberately led the conversation back to the
 
 234 Star of the North 
 
 subject of the "profession" and, by impercep- 
 tible transitions, to the Graphics and Paul. 
 Her face was quite pale, and her usually full 
 lips were compressed to a thin line. Her 
 eyes glittered with the hardness of sapphires. 
 Fleming Magregor, wearied with the long 
 day, fell asleep while she talked. 
 
 June, to whom Paul was ever a welcome 
 subject of conversation, recalled her last 
 night's speculation concerning his life in the 
 metropolis, and sought enlightenment. 
 
 "You knew Mr. Temple in New York, I 
 suppose?" she asked, feeling a little twinge of 
 envy. 
 
 Gertrude laughed. 
 
 "Oh, Lord, yes quite well, in fact." 
 She was alive to the ironical humour in the 
 question and the present situation. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad! Then you can tell me 
 what I want to know. What is his life there 
 like I mean his life outside of the studio? 
 What does he do to amuse himself? Who are 
 his friends?" June coloured a little, as if to 
 apologize for so deep an interest.
 
 Reprisal 235 
 
 Gertrude laughed again, and this time there 
 was an ugly note in the sound. 
 
 "Oh, he's a devil for speed, Paul is! He 
 reads books something terrible. Or he stays 
 up late working out sets for new pictures. 
 Why, sometimes I've actually know, him to go 
 to a show. Oh, I tell you there's nothing Paul 
 won't do after work hours!" 
 
 June felt the sarcasm and was a little non- 
 plussed. Why should Paul's manner of life 
 annoy Miss Mackay so much? Then she was 
 conscious of Gertrude leaning forward, amuse- 
 ment still curling her lips. 
 
 "You're pretty keen on Paul, ain't you, 
 Miss Magregor?" 
 
 To a girl of her own age and sensibility June 
 might have confided a rhapsody upon the man 
 she loved, but something in this question, 
 in the asker's tone, look, and manner restrained 
 her. 
 
 "I like him very much," she said with a 
 certain reserved dignity. "He's the best 
 friend I have in the world. " 
 
 "You don't say!" with forced, polite sur-
 
 236 Star of the North 
 
 prise. "But say, I'd feel awful sorry for 
 anybody that married him.'" 
 
 In the silence that ensued the sleeping 
 factor stirred, and the perpetual clicking of 
 snowflakes against the windows swelled in 
 crescendo as a blast of wind drove them. The 
 forest bellowed with a vast, reverberating 
 voice, and the two candles, that served to 
 reveal the women to each other, flickered. A 
 stick in the stove snapped. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you." The hard eyes 
 gleamed with satisfaction. "I suppose you've 
 heard of these what they call vampire-women 
 that kill all the good in a man, and ruin his 
 life, and all that?" June nodded vaguely. 
 "Well, Paul's a vampire-man. Any woman 
 that married him would have to give up every- 
 thing in the world but breathing, and play 
 second fiddle forever, amen. He'd want her 
 to know all about how great he is, but he'd 
 see that she didn't get any chance to be great 
 herself." 
 
 The venom that filled the words was not
 
 Reprisal 237 
 
 lost upon June. The girl was saying to her- 
 self: "Even if what she says is true, why 
 should she be so bitter about it?" Aloud she 
 said: 
 
 "I can't imagine his being like that. He 
 seems to me the most unselfish man in the 
 world." 
 
 "Naturally!" smirking "but you don't 
 know him. If there's one thing he couldn't 
 stand, it would be the success of his own wife. 
 He's a great one for the woman in the home, 
 awful strong for little feet pattering about the 
 place, and all that. " 
 
 June experienced a faint, sweet confusion. 
 But only for an instant. She was trying to 
 fight down a prescience of something sinister 
 that had suddenly flung its shadow above her. 
 What it was she did not know; she only knew 
 it existed, and that, somehow, it seemed to 
 have emanated like an evil aura from Gertrude 
 Mackay. 
 
 " Mr. Temple never talked like that to me, " 
 she hesitated, "and he was always trying to 
 help the people of his company to do better,
 
 238 Star of the North 
 
 the women as well as the men. Especially 
 Miss Tanner, who isn't awfully brilliant, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes, I know," drily. "Well," her eyes 
 glittered, "if you'll take the word of one who's 
 had him right for years, you'll believe what 
 I say." Her mouth twisted as she tried to 
 smile. "He's a faker and a scoundrel, and 
 he's lied to you." 
 
 Instinctively June rose to her feet, her 
 eyes blazing into those other eyes that met 
 hers now with a fixed intensity of hatred. At 
 the same time she felt shudderingly as if the 
 tentacles of some loathsome evil had closed 
 about her. 
 
 "How dare you say that?" she cried. 
 "It's not true! I shan't believe it!" 
 
 "How dare I?" Gertrude spoke with the 
 calm insolence of triumph. "Who has a 
 better right? I am his wife, and have been 
 for five years. " 
 
 "You what !" 
 
 The girl could not go on. She stood mute, 
 transfixed.
 
 Reprisal 239 
 
 "I'm his wife," the other repeated, "a 
 mere trifle he forgot to mention to you." 
 
 Her revenge was sweet. The look on that 
 stricken face afforded her a poignant pleasure, 
 an exquisite satisfaction. Gone was her 
 sense of baffled defeat by this girl. Hers was 
 the upper hand now. 
 
 June stood quite still, her colour ebbing 
 until she was as white as paper. For the 
 first moments the bare shock of the statement 
 blurred all her thoughts and feelings. Then 
 every faculty rallied to defence. 
 
 " I don't believe you I won't. " Her voice 
 was low, passionless, monotonous. "He 
 couldn't have done that to me. " 
 
 "Believe me or not, it's the truth." She 
 lifted the finger that should have borne her 
 wedding ring. "But we haven't been proud 
 of it for quite a while, and I've quit advertising 
 the fact. It interferes with business, you 
 know." She smiled quite pleasantly. 
 
 Through the daze of her pain June knew 
 that the woman had not lied, dared not lie. 
 No sane motive could be behind the folly
 
 240 Star of the North 
 
 of such untruth. Gertrude was obviously 
 sane. Vaguely, for the first time, June 
 realized the hatred against her of this woman 
 whose life she had saved. 
 
 Then even as the torrent of words and tears 
 gushed up, pride came to her rescue. After 
 all no definite understanding existed between 
 herself and Paul. She loved him but he had 
 not spoken the final word that asked her to be 
 his. With a superhuman effort she brought 
 herself under control. Deliberately she threw 
 a stick of wood into the stove and resumed her 
 former seat. 
 
 "I congratulate you, " she said in a strangely 
 calm voice. "I've been told that actors had 
 wives tucked away in almost every corner of 
 the world. But, " she added with an inspira- 
 tion that was not of herself, "if I were Paul 
 Temple's wife I should be absurdly proud of 
 the fact. No woman could be really worthy 
 of him, you know. " 
 
 Gertrude Temple was stung out of her self- 
 complacency. Here were not the tears and 
 grief of shattered young romance, but rather
 
 Reprisal 241 
 
 self-possession and a retort with a sting in it. 
 Had she made a mistake, she wondered? Had 
 she saddled herself with a husband again to 
 no real purpose? Her triumph commenced 
 to wear the look of failure. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 COMPENSATION 
 
 OOMEHOW June got through the re- 
 ^ mainder of that evening, but when she 
 lay down on her bed of spruce boughs it was 
 to face the stark truth defenceless. The storm 
 which bellowed and flailed on in its blind 
 fury was a fit accompaniment to her thoughts. 
 Sometimes when the hut creaked and swayed 
 with the force of the blast she wished that it 
 would suddenly collapse upon her and blot out 
 everything; the task of living seemed too great. 
 All life seemed unreal. She felt as if she 
 were floating in a vast black void without 
 means of support, and her distracted brain 
 pictured this as her life to be dull, blind 
 existence in a universe from which the sun 
 had gone and the earth slipped from beneath 
 her feet. 
 
 242
 
 Compensation 243 
 
 So Paul was a scoundrel like Baillie! She 
 shivered and refused the thought recognition. 
 She dared not face it now. After the events 
 and hardships of the last week that way led 
 to madness. She must think think hard 
 of anything, everything else; of her father's 
 needs, of the physical aspects of their situation 
 here, of the projected journey south. 
 
 Paul Temple a scoundrel like Baillie 
 
 There was the food! They still had so 
 many pounds of bacon, beans, flour, tea, and 
 dried fruit. Granting that the storm lasted 
 two days longer, and that they made a fair 
 day's journey southward, how many ounces 
 of each provision could she allow per meal per 
 person, granting of course that Miss Mackay, 
 no, Mrs. Temple She brought up with a 
 shock. She had circled back. 
 
 Paul was married! Paul had done this 
 incredible, inconceivable thing! 
 
 Desperately she took up the food problem 
 again. Her mind worked like the spring of a 
 steel trap. She juggled incredible fractions 
 with nightmare ease, doggedly fighting off
 
 244 Star of the North 
 
 that red-hot stab of pain that came with the 
 constantly recurring words, "Paul is married! 
 Paul is married !" . . . 
 
 At last everything became one hopeless 
 jumble, and utterly worn out mentally and 
 physically, she fell asleep. 
 
 Morning brought light to her eyes but none 
 to her soul. Mrs. Temple arose in surpris- 
 ingly good humour. During breakfast she 
 uncovered a fund of anecdote which caused the 
 worldly-wise old factor to squirm in his bunk. 
 As if by tacit agreement neither woman 
 revealed to Magregor Gertrude's married 
 state. 
 
 But this did not prevent the latter's dis- 
 cussing the fact sotto r coce. She took a hand in 
 the housework in order to have June for an 
 audience. A new twist of her character 
 manifested itself in the delight with which 
 she welcomed a new listener to the long story 
 of her wrongs at Paul's hands. 
 
 "The first year we were married things were 
 all right," she confided. "We were in the 
 same company. But the second year, when
 
 Compensation 245 
 
 Paul couldn't get anything in New York he 
 wanted me to go out on the road with him. 
 I told him that it would do us more good for 
 me to stay on Broadway pulling wires, but 
 no, he wouldn't see it. 
 
 ' ' I married to have a wife and a home, ' says 
 he, ' and if we can't live together in New York, 
 we can on the road.' Now, can you beat 
 that for selfishness? And when I refused to 
 go, he was wild. He was so afraid I'd get a 
 Broadway engagement he couldn't see. And 
 when I began to make friends that might have 
 given us a lift, was he pleased and grateful? 
 Like the devil he was! Somebody wrote 
 him a lot of lies about me, and he came in 
 from the road so hot-foot he burned shoe- 
 leather. 
 
 "And then we had it out. He wanted me 
 to give up my friends and go with him. The 
 nerve! As if I'd go pluggin* around some 
 kerosene circuit when I had friends in New 
 York that burned the town after nightfall! 
 Now that shows you what kind of a guy he 
 was, unreasonable and selfish. Why, one of
 
 246 Star of the North 
 
 these cobry snakes is full of affection alongside 
 of him!" 
 
 This was just the beginning. When Ma- 
 gregor dropped off for his morning nap, she 
 went on in a louder tone, following June 
 about as she talked, a half -dried tin plate or 
 forgotten stick of wood in her hand. 
 
 June was almost beside herself. In the 
 narrow confines of the cabin there was no 
 escape, and the girl whose every nerve was as 
 raw as if it had been cut with a knife, wanted 
 to scream and rush out into the blessed relief 
 of the storm. 
 
 But once more her pride saved her. Sus- 
 pecting that Gertrude was deliberately tor- 
 menting her by talking of Paul, she grimly 
 accepted the challenge. All morning the 
 strange contest went on. Then, as so often 
 happens in life, out of this bitterest trial, came 
 unexpected good. Gertrude slowly but in- 
 evitably accomplished her own defeat. 
 
 As she reviewed her experiences her sense 
 of injury increased, and the wrongs she had 
 suffered at Paul's hand grew correspondingly.
 
 Compensation 247 
 
 Blessed with a luxuriant imagination where 
 personal feeling was concerned, the luridness 
 of incident and detail in her narrative grew 
 until these at last rang false even upon June's 
 unsophisticated ear. The girl knew she was 
 lying, and the realization marked the turning 
 of the tide. 
 
 Thinking back over all Gertrude had said, 
 June realized a strange fact. Gertrude, try- 
 ing her hardest to damage Paul, had uncon- 
 sciously painted a portrait of him that was a 
 counterpart of the one experience had en- 
 shrined in her own heart. Because the wo- 
 man's point of view had been so distorted and 
 untrue, she had unwittingly left in high relief 
 those qualities for which June had always 
 loved him. With incredible venom Gertrude 
 had proved her husband to be simple, honour- 
 able, sensitive, patient, and fine. 
 
 And because of this, a new tremulous faith 
 in Paul commenced to reassert itself in June. 
 The fact that he had concealed his marriage 
 from her remained of course an inexplicable 
 contradiction and a barrier between them,
 
 248 Star of the North 
 
 but now she advanced to that barrier unafraid. 
 
 Complete, unquestioning trust had always 
 characterized her former feeling for him. 
 This trust had helped her through the poignant 
 girlish disillusionment regarding Baillie; it 
 had asked no questions when Paul remained 
 away apparently without excuse for a fort- 
 night ; and it had palliated his sudden leaving 
 of her that day in the living room of the Fort 
 when she had tried to express her gratitude for 
 all he had done. 
 
 Gertrude had unconsciously vindicated 
 Paul's character. Could not June then ex- 
 tend her faith in him even to include his failure 
 to tell of his marriage? Perhaps there had 
 been some great, compelling reason that had 
 sealed his lips. She believed it, though im- 
 agination failed to suggest that reason. 
 
 And there was another question too. Why 
 had he not told her early in their friendship? 
 Was he, like Gertrude, loth to admit the 
 galling yoke for business reasons ? She did not 
 know. She must await his answers before she 
 condemned him finally.
 
 Compensation 249 
 
 From that moment a change came over 
 June. She forgot the storm, the close cramped 
 quarters of the cabin, and the half-starva- 
 tion she had known since Gertrude's arrival. 
 Serene in the possession of her new faith, she 
 cared not if the other rambled on forever; 
 each new word only added to her conscious- 
 ness of victory. 
 
 She commenced to sing softly to herself 
 as she went about her work; once more she 
 bubbled over with a subdued, tremulous 
 happiness, as shy and courageous as the first 
 flower of spring. 
 
 Gertrude viewed this phenomenon dumb- 
 founded. Everything had been so satisfac- 
 tory and now to find that her most eloquent 
 efforts had evoked only joy! The evening 
 before she had suspected that her revenge had 
 failed. Now she knew it. 
 
 June went to bed that night serene in spirit, 
 and awoke to bright skies and the still, 
 muffled quiet that follows a heavy snow-storm. 
 Jim Albert had overestimated the duration of 
 the blizzard.
 
 250 Star of the North 
 
 Gertrude, quite characteristically, could 
 scarcely restrain her joy at the prospect of 
 leaving. Nor, truth to tell, could her hosts. 
 She demanded the dogs and the sledge im- 
 mediately after breakfast, but when Fleming 
 Magregor discovered that she had no idea 
 where the Stellar camp was, he demurred until 
 Albert could reconnoitre. 
 
 About noon while the Indian was still away, 
 there came a halloo from the lake and those in 
 the cabin saw two strange men on snow-shoes 
 approaching. Gertrude looked at them un- 
 certainly a moment and then gave a shout of 
 
 joy. 
 
 "Saved at last!" she cried, with uncon- 
 scious naivete. "They're guides from our 
 camp!" 
 
 The men were almost as glad to see Ger- 
 trude as she to see them. 
 
 " Thank heaven we've found you! " said one, 
 fervently. "Mr. Bergman's wild. He's had 
 us out searching for you in the worst of the 
 blizzard. We could hardly keep him from 
 starting out himself."
 
 Compensation 251 
 
 Though the man's voice was respectful, 
 June could detect the resentment in it. 
 
 "Oh, Bergman!" laughed Gertrude. "I'd 
 forgotten about him. I suppose he was rather 
 cut up. It must have been funny. " 
 
 The man checked his words but looked his 
 surprise. He was a white trapper by the 
 name of Adams, whom the Magregors knew. 
 His companion was an Indian. 
 
 " Camp's only two miles away, " he told the 
 factor when he had renewed the acquaintance, 
 " and, of course, we never thought to look any- 
 where as close as this. Didn't know anyone 
 was here , in fact . When do you start down ? ' ' 
 
 "Tomorrow at dawn, Heaven willing!" 
 declared Magregor. "And by the way, Ben, " 
 he added, "can you spare us a little grub from 
 your camp? We're about down to the rind. " 
 
 A peculiar look, half of concern, half of 
 shame, crossed the other's face. 
 
 "Unless you're all out I can't wouldn't 
 dare," he replied earnestly, in a low voice. 
 "Everything ain't quite right over there." 
 He jerked his head significantly towards
 
 252 Star of the North 
 
 camp. "I'm storekeeper for 'em, an' if I 
 know anything, those fifty tourists are goin* 
 to need help this winter. The men that out- 
 fitted 'em must have been fools. " 
 
 Magregor nodded in grave surprise. Things 
 must be serious. The refusal of a grub-stake 
 in winter was a rare thing. 
 
 "Oh, we'll make out all right," he said cheer- 
 fully. "Don't think anything more about it. " 
 
 Gertrude made ready quickly. Rather than 
 wait for the dogs she decided to tramp the two 
 miles with the men. 
 
 "And besides," she said, "I guess Bergman 
 is about wild. It would be a shame to keep 
 him in misery any longer. " 
 
 June who, since the arrival of the searching 
 party, had heard nothing but Bergman, 
 expressed her curiosity. 
 
 "Who is Bergman?" she asked. "Your 
 director?" 
 
 "Nope. The owner of Stellar. He's wast- 
 ing a lot of time up here when he ought to be 
 in New York 'tending to business." 
 
 June was puzzled. Bergman's anxiety and
 
 Compensation 253 
 
 Gertrude's familiar contempt of one in his ex- 
 alted position struck an unpleasant note. A 
 vague, repellent wonder dawned in her mind. 
 
 When she stood ready to go, Gertrude led 
 June a little to one side. 
 
 "I suppose I owe you a great deal, dearie, " 
 she said, "so if you ever come to New York, 
 be sure and look me up. Meantime I suppose 
 you will see Paul." 
 
 "Probably, if the Graphics haven't gone 
 back, " June replied imperturbably. 
 
 "Well, if you do," and the lady smiled 
 sweetly, "tell him how you met his wife, and 
 say that she loves him in the same old way. 
 Also you might add that she still considers 
 divorce a very sinful proceeding" she 
 laughed "and that unfortunately her health 
 remains exceptionally good." 
 
 It was a last desperate shot and it went 
 home. 
 
 June turned away suddenly without reply- 
 ing, and Gertrude tingled with satisfaction. 
 The two did not speak together again, and a 
 few minutes later Miss Mackay left.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE WORM TURNS 
 
 '"THE Stellar Camp had been built beside 
 one of the innumerable small streams 
 that empty into Loon Lake. A confused 
 group of raw log huts now buried to their 
 windows in snow, it was partially sheltered 
 from the wind by a steep cut bank and the 
 spruce forest which crowned it. 
 
 An hour after leaving the Magregor cabin 
 where Adams, the trapper, and his Indian 
 had found her, Gertrude approached the camp. 
 But the sight of it raised no anticipations of 
 joyful home-coming or reunion in her mind. 
 Though she had cried "Saved at last!" at 
 sight of her rescuers, this huddle of buildings 
 evoked no deeper emotions than the thought of 
 needed physical comforts to be obtained, and 
 the opportunity offered to impersonate the 
 
 254
 
 The Worm Turns 255 
 
 surviving heroine of desperate adventures a 
 role she was carefully prepared to play. 
 
 And yet the camp stood there a monument 
 to her whim! 
 
 Several months before, conscious of her 
 increasing ascendancy over Bergman, Ger- 
 trude had sought her revenge on Paul, both 
 for his material success and for what she 
 supposed was his new love affair. Publicity 
 stories emanating from Camp Graphic were 
 whetting the public appetite for "A Wilderness 
 Idyl," and its release promised to be an event 
 in movie history. 
 
 The thought that her husband was about to 
 add this new triumph to his already long list, 
 crystallized Gertrude's jealous envy. She 
 convinced Bergman that by rushing a com- 
 pany north at top speed and working fast, 
 the Steller could release a northern film coin- 
 cident with the Graphic feature which would 
 greatly counteract its success. 
 
 Bergman, whose only unswerving allegiance 
 was to the shapely dollar sign, could see the 
 business possibilities in this suggestion. The
 
 256 Star of the North 
 
 attempt would at least divide the public 
 interest, and probably still the furore over the 
 rival release. 
 
 In reward for her plan Gertrude received 
 the leading female role in "A Magdalene of the 
 Snows" achieved stardom overnight. But 
 even this promotion was not purely exuberant 
 gratitude on Bergman's part. As he himself 
 had predicted that hot September afternoon in 
 the New York tango palace, the earlier films 
 in which she had appeared had proved success- 
 ful. For the first time Gertrude was becoming 
 widely known. 
 
 Stellar's expedition into the wilds had set 
 a record for speed and financial outlay, and 
 these isolated, half -smothered huts were its 
 sole visible result. Built without careful 
 forethought for arrangement, they faced in 
 all directions like blocks dropped by a careless 
 hand. Even at a distance they gave an im- 
 pression of faulty organization and ill-advised 
 haste. 
 
 Drawing nearer, Gertrude's spirits did not 
 rise. There were no signs of life except a
 
 The Worm Turns 257 
 
 brown thread of wood-smoke against the blue 
 sky, and the woman experienced a sharp dis- 
 illusionment, a wretched discontent with it all. 
 The tragedy of Gertrude's life was that, bring- 
 ing no love or joy to anything, she found no 
 love and gladness anywhere. 
 
 The return of the lost was signalled by her 
 companions with a shrill whistle and waving of 
 arms, and Gertrude, taking her cue, moved 
 through the ensuing scenes of welcome with 
 an off-hand depreciation of perils survived that 
 showed careful rehearsal on the walk home. 
 And yet she knew that her noisy reception was 
 not genuinely joyous. These people were re- 
 lieved that she was alive. That was all. 
 
 Bergman was not at camp, she learned, but 
 had gone off with the southern searching party 
 and would not be back until dark. Gertrude 
 silently thanked heaven for the respite, and 
 departed to her maid and her bath. 
 
 About four o'clock there was a jingle of 
 bells and a dog-team dashed up to the accom- 
 paniment of men's shouts. A moment later 
 
 there came an impatient knock at Gertrude's 
 17
 
 258 Star of the North 
 
 door, and in response to her word, Bergman 
 floundered in. He was in furs, and his hair, 
 eyebrows, and moustache were covered with 
 frost. 
 
 "Thank God they found you, Gertie!" he 
 cried, with hoarse emotion. "I was afraid it 
 was too late. " He went towards her eagerly. 
 
 Her maid had gone, and she sat dressed in a 
 rose-coloured tea-gown before a tray of tea 
 and assorted pastry that had been placed on 
 the rough table. She rose and held out her 
 hands with a tired smile. 
 
 "I really believe you mean it, Al. It's 
 rather nice to be missed, you great big bear, 
 you. Oh, no ! You mustn't touch me, you'll 
 get me all wet. " 
 
 He remembered the melting snow on his furs 
 and moustache and restrained himself with 
 an effort. 
 
 "Nice to be missed, Gert!" he groaned. 
 "Gawd, I thought you was dead." 
 
 "I have been through a good deal," she 
 admitted, plaintively, "but I'm like the bad 
 penny. Some tea?"
 
 The Worm Turns 259 
 
 Baffled by his reception, he turned hesitat- 
 ingly away. 
 
 "No, I guess not. Now that you're safe, 
 I suppose I'd better look after things. We 
 got to have a conference. Durham's kickin' 
 again, and so is Adams. It seems like it's 
 nothin' but kicks here all the time." He 
 stood a moment longer devouring her with 
 his eyes. "Well, I guess you want to be 
 alone, so I'll come in after dinner." 
 
 "All right, Al, whatever you say." 
 
 He left her, still baffled and a little hurt. 
 
 The heads of the Stellar enterprise gathered 
 in what Bergman termed his office, a small, 
 square room at the end of the cabin where 
 the props were stored. Durham, the director, 
 a small wiry man, bald-headed and wearing 
 glasses, was there, as was Peters, the male lead, 
 a hero well known for his romantic mop of 
 hair and soulful eyes. Adams, who was in 
 charge of the material needs of the camp, com- 
 pleted the group. 
 
 The director spoke first. He was falling 
 farther and farther behind in his "takes"
 
 26o Star of the North 
 
 because of lack of facilities, he complained. 
 It looked now as if they would have to omit 
 the big dog-team race, as there weren't enough 
 dogs in camp, and none of the nearby trappers 
 or Indians would loan or sell theirs at this 
 time of year. Moreover, he had discovered 
 that in the hurry of departure, a case of film 
 had been left behind, and he was afraid of 
 running short before he finished. 
 
 "Well, don't waste so much, " Bergman said, 
 testily. "You use fifty thousand feet to 
 release six. I don't mind that in New York, 
 but you can't do it here. " 
 
 Durham threw his hands hopelessly into the 
 air. 
 
 "How can I get effects without film? I 
 must eliminate, add, retake. It's the art of 
 the thing. I can't be held down like some 
 tyro. I must have a free hand to develop my 
 ideas. Besides, my people are discontented. 
 How can I do anything under the circum- 
 stances ? ' ' He ceased with a look of despair. 
 
 Bergman growled and turned to Peters. 
 
 He represented the actors and actresses, he
 
 The Worm Turns 261 
 
 said. They were perishing with cold. The 
 cabins were badly built, and there were not 
 enough stoves. There had been a miscalcula- 
 tion, evidently, in the number required, and 
 what had come weren't properly distributed. 
 Something must be done. 
 
 Recalling that each room of Gertrude's 
 detached cabin had a stove, Bergman recog- 
 nized the currents beneath the surface of this 
 complaint. But he also realized with some 
 compunction that too much had been asked 
 of his company in plunging them into an 
 almost arctic winter without opportunity for 
 acclimatization. He promised Peters that he 
 would try to remedy matters. 
 
 Adams succinctly stated that if the company 
 expected to remain in the North as long as 
 they had planned, there would have to be a 
 drastic reform in the use of supplies. 
 
 "It ain't that you haven't got enough 
 truck," he said, "but it ain't the right kind. 
 That parleyvoo chef of yours uses up good 
 flour makin' fancy do-dads that don't stay a 
 man ten minutes. You're 'way short on
 
 262 Star of the North 
 
 bacon an' beans an' the grub that you ought 
 to have. Whoever outfitted you must have 
 been a arm-chair explorer. If you expect to 
 pull through, you'll have to begin to cut 
 rations." 
 
 Peters, who had been listening, sharply 
 interrupted with a toss of his mane to inquire 
 if he would have to put up with starvation as 
 well as freezing. 
 
 "You will if you don't cut down," Adams 
 reiterated convincingly. 
 
 Bergman left the conference disgusted and 
 discouraged. His chief resentment was with 
 himself for having let his infatuation place 
 him in this position a fact which he had to 
 admit. Under the pretence that this biggest 
 of Stellar enterprises needed his personal 
 attention, he had supervised every detail of 
 preparation, and brought the company north, 
 all as a cloak for his desire to be with Gertrude 
 Temple. 
 
 As speed had been imperative if the Graphic 
 triumph were to be minimized, the blunders of 
 ignorance and haste had begun to show them-
 
 The Worm Turns 263 
 
 selves, and the uncompromising, implacable, 
 northern winter was taking full advantage of 
 every one of them. 
 
 Now the unimagined possibility of failure 
 stared him in the face. Disorganization and 
 discontent reigned, esprit de corps was gone, 
 and even his leaders seemed against him. 
 
 Dinner that night in the mess cabin was not 
 a cheerful affair. Word had gone round of the 
 results of the conference, and the gloom was 
 impenetrable. It was plain to the majority 
 that instead of conditions bettering they must 
 grow worse, and an illuminating sidelight on 
 the state of feeling was that Gertrude Mackay's 
 safe return was scarcely mentioned during the 
 meal. That lady herself, fatigued, it was 
 assumed, by her experiences, did not appear, 
 but had a tray sent in. 
 
 After dinner, smoking moodily, Bergman 
 walked to her cabin. It had grown cold with 
 the clearing of the storm, and the thermometer 
 was nearing thirty degrees below zero. The 
 stars sparkled with frosty brilliancy in a dull 
 blue sky, and to the north there was a ceaseless
 
 264 Star of the North 
 
 ghostly interplay of colours as the Aurora 
 flicked its streamers up the heavens. On the 
 river bank the husky dogs howled dismally 
 at the display, and now and then some freez- 
 ing tree expanded with the report of a rifle- 
 shot. 
 
 In his mood, the interior of Gertrude's cabin 
 grated on Bergman. Here everything to com- 
 pel luxury amid desolation had been done. 
 There were cushions, curtains, knick-knacks 
 even an easy chair; all demanded by the lady 
 along with the chef, and brought at the ex- 
 pense of practical and necessary things. In 
 the bedroom back of the thin partition, the 
 toilet-table, with its coloured jars and bottles 
 and silver-backed accessories, was a strange 
 anomaly in its primitive setting. 
 
 Bergman sat down heavily on a plain pine 
 chair, forgetful, to Gertrude's delight, of the 
 proprietory kiss. He felt for the first time 
 with a vague resentment that she was, in a 
 way, back of all his troubles. 
 
 " Guess you'll have to kiss one of your stoves 
 good-bye," he began gloomily. "Peters put
 
 The Worm Turns 265 
 
 up an awful roar about the bunkhouses being 
 cold this afternoon. " 
 
 "H'm! I suppose he mentioned me!" 
 She bristled. 
 
 "No, he didn't have to." 
 
 She looked at him astonished. She had 
 expected a different reply. Warm, satisfied, 
 well-fed, like a cat she expected a stroking. 
 Her ire increased. 
 
 "Well, Al, you certainly can't expect me, 
 the leading woman of this company, to be 
 robbed to make that false alarm comfortable. " 
 
 In his hour of depression the man ardently 
 longed. for appreciation, encouragement, and 
 sympathy, and Gertrude's crass self-assertion 
 rasped him. 
 
 "Maybe he's a false alarm and maybe he 
 ain't, " he replied, testily. " Nobody ever tells 
 me his eight hundred a week is a false alarm. " 
 
 He, too, had blundered. Gertrude's chief 
 hatred of the leading man rested on the fact 
 that he received more money than she did. 
 
 "Why should they? You signed him on at 
 that. Only a fool would have done it."
 
 266 Star of the North 
 
 He nodded his head slowly while his swarthy 
 face darkened under a slow tide of colour, and 
 his little black eyes grew hard. The dead 
 cigar drooped from the corner of his mouth. 
 
 ' ' And only a fool would have come up here, " 
 he grated. " I know that now. " 
 
 It was like a slap in the face, this blurted 
 opinion of the Stellar wild-goose chase for 
 which she was primarily responsible. She 
 sat looking at him in astonishment and anger 
 that for a moment were inarticulate. He 
 seemed to have forgotten that only four hours 
 ago she had been restored to him from the 
 arms of death. 
 
 "So you're passing the buck to me, are 
 you?" she finally managed in a voice as taut 
 as a steel wire. "Because that pretty-boy's 
 got cold feet, I'm to blame, eh?" 
 
 "Maybe you are and maybe you ain't, " he 
 said, doggedly. "Who thought of comin* 
 up here in the first place? It wasn't me, was 
 it? Who thought of gougin' the Graphics?" 
 
 "Well, you didn't have to do it," she flashed. 
 "Nobody made you. You offered, didn't
 
 The Worm Turns 267 
 
 you? What are you raisin' the devil with me 
 for? " Her blue eyes seemed to emit sparks of 
 fire, and her voice was strident. 
 
 " Yes, I offered," he retorted. " It was part 
 of our bargain. You was to be a star at the 
 head of your own company, and I made you a 
 star. I kept my bargain as I said I would." 
 The veins on his low forehead stood out. 
 "But you haven't kept your bargain. You 
 and me were to hit it off when you were made, 
 but every time I try to talk to you I get the 
 icy mitt. Do you call that fair? What do 
 you think I come up here for anyway? To see 
 the snow? To hear Durham belly-ache about 
 art?" 
 
 He leaned towards her, his pudgy hands 
 clenched on his knees. Swiftly, unpremedi- 
 tatedly, his moment of depression striking the 
 flint of her selfishness had flashed new fire into 
 the tinder of long-smouldering resentments 
 and injustices. Put off with flimsy excuses, 
 evaded with open daring, he had for weeks 
 been unconsciously preparing for this time. 
 Now that it was upon him, he had gone too
 
 268 Star of the North 
 
 far to draw back. He rushed on without 
 giving her a chance to speak, watching her 
 passion-contorted face unwinkingly. 
 
 "I never handed you any bum poetry, or 
 bunk about platonic love. You and I under- 
 stood each other from the first. And I don't 
 blame no woman for getting what she can out 
 of the game I never knew one yet that didn't, 
 married or single. But I'll tell you this much, 
 Gert, a bargain's a bargain, and a woman that 
 don't live up to one is the lowest woman there 
 is, bar none." 
 
 She started to speak but he checked her with 
 a wave of his hand. 
 
 "I love you, Gert, and I have since the first 
 day I saw you. I'm willin' to give you every- 
 thing I can and do everything for you, but 
 I expect you to do your end. I don't ask 
 much, only a little love and sympathy and 
 understanding. What good is a woman to a 
 man if she don't give him them things? " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, leaving her breathless 
 and unprepared. For an instant the remem- 
 brance flashed upon her that those were just
 
 The Worm Turns 269 
 
 the things Paul Temple had so often asked in 
 vain, and the realization came that even in 
 such a relationship as this gross Jew had 
 offered, men sought something of a woman a 
 little higher, a little nobler than merely grati- 
 fied desire. 
 
 Then ethical considerations were swept 
 away on a torrent of fury. 
 
 "Love me!" she laughed, with shrill, mirth- 
 less scorn. "You love me a lot, you do ! This 
 looks like it, don't it, coming in here and try- 
 ing to blame me because things have gone 
 wrong. Here I am, not four hours back from 
 my grave for all you knew, and you're just 
 layin' on the love thick, you are! Insulting 
 me, and treating me as if I was some fresh 
 extra girl!" 
 
 The thought of her recent hardships, and the 
 bitter injustice of it all struck a resounding 
 chord of self-pity. She dabbed her eyes 
 with her handkerchief. 
 
 "Little you know what I've been through, 
 and little you care ! For two days I've almost 
 starved. I haven't had my clothes off, or
 
 270 Star of the North 
 
 had a night's rest; and now you blame me 
 because I was willing to come up to this God- 
 forsaken snow-drift to take a picture that 
 ought to make Stellar the biggest thing in the 
 world. And you talk about my not keepin' 
 my bargain. Gawd! haven't I done every- 
 thing I could, give my life, almost?" She was 
 frankly weeping by this time, but watching 
 him nevertheless. 
 
 Bergman, squatting like a frog on his hard 
 chair, waited stolidly until she had finished. 
 His features had not changed their expression, 
 but now as he spoke there was ugly determina- 
 tion in his voice. 
 
 "All right, Gert. You've had your say 
 and I've had mine. You're dodgin' again, like 
 you've always done, but you can't get away 
 with it this time. I've put up with all I'm 
 goin' to. I've done my share, and I'm goin' to 
 collect. That's all for tonight, but tomorrow 
 I'm goin' to find out where you stand." 
 
 He rose abruptly, shifting his chewed cigar 
 from one corner of his mouth to the other, and 
 stood looking down upon her with that de-
 
 The Worm Turns 271 
 
 tached consideration which Gertrude had 
 learned to associate with his business oper- 
 ations. 
 
 "I ain't goin' to argue with you," he con- 
 cluded, "because there's nothin' to argue 
 about. You made a bargain, an' the question 
 is, are you goin' to keep it, or ain't you? You 
 can think things over tonight and I'll come 
 around again in the morning to find out where 
 we stand. " 
 
 He spoke with a disconcerting finality that 
 robbed the woman for a moment of speech. 
 Then turning away, he calmly lifted his outer 
 garments from the nail where they hung, 
 opened the door, and went out.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AN UNWELCOME GUEST 
 
 COR a moment after he had gone Gertrude 
 Temple sat, a graven image of amaze- 
 ment, her handkerchief half-way to her eyes, 
 her lips parted as if about to speak. Her 
 sobs had automatically ceased when the door 
 closed, and now gradually a look that was part 
 defiance and part fear overspread her face. 
 
 With that resounding departure the whole 
 aspect of her life had changed. She con- 
 fronted an unprecedented situation. Berg- 
 man's ultimatum had precipitated a crisis, had 
 swept aside her carefully laid plans. Suc- 
 cessful until now in holding him off, she had 
 counted on doing so until she really became 
 famous, when she meant to attach him, awed 
 and harmless, to her train. And now he had 
 
 ruined everything. 
 
 272
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 273 
 
 "Oh, the black beast! I hate him!" she 
 panted, crushing her ball of moist handker- 
 chief in one palm. And yet, angry as she was, 
 she thought clearly and coolly. 
 
 A woman of mediocre talent who had lived 
 by her wits since leaving her husband, she had 
 studied men, and while learning their manage- 
 ment had acquired the art of extracting the 
 most from them while giving the least. But 
 never before had her victim revolted an 
 unflattering reflection on her skill in the pre- 
 sent case. 
 
 Knowing Bergman as she did, she admitted 
 the seriousness of this crisis. Placid, stolid, 
 easy-going, he was good-tempered until 
 aroused; then inflexible. Having spoken as 
 he did tonight, she knew he would not go back. 
 Similar but less intense scenes between them 
 in the past had ended in his humility and 
 capitulation, but this one would not, she 
 knew. She had witnessed the wreaking of 
 his purpose upon others. He was adamant. 
 
 This in itself was disconcerting enough, but 
 
 it was made more so by the peculiar char- 
 is
 
 274 Star of the North 
 
 acter of her natural surroundings. Hemmed 
 in on every side by snow-smothered leagues of 
 wilderness, she realized that she was com- 
 pletely in his power. The wiles and subter- 
 fuges of crowded Manhattan would avail her 
 nothing here, and suddenly she felt helpless, 
 desperate, like a trapped animal. 
 
 Particularly appalling was the thought that, 
 after all, Bergman was right, that his accusa- 
 tions were true. She had suggested the Stellar 
 expedition, and she had not kept her bargain. 
 She could not evade those two facts. Yet she 
 did not intend to surrender; she revolted at 
 the thought of compulsion. In her deter- 
 mination she sought wildly for any loophole 
 of escape, but she could find none. Bergman 
 was too clearly in the right and she in the 
 wrong. . . . 
 
 That night her life seemed very bitter and 
 unjust to Gertrude. And to make matters 
 worse, she commenced recalling the doubly 
 hateful details of Paul's successful work and 
 comparative happiness as June had revealed 
 them. She contrasted this desolate, badly
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 275 
 
 managed camp with the smart, efficient organ- 
 ization farther south, and the spirit of accom- 
 plishment and mutual helpfulness reigning 
 there with its reverse here. And the old 
 savage envy gnawed again at her soul. 
 
 But the keenest spur was the thought that 
 Paul loved someone else. A second romance 
 had come into his life at the very time when 
 her own soiled and tawdry episode with Berg- 
 man had reached its end. He had everything 
 and she had nothing! 
 
 She burst into tears of anger and self-pity, 
 and let them have their way with her awhile. 
 Then drying her eyes she returned to the old 
 wearisome game of contrivance by which she 
 lived. What course of action would yield the 
 most now? 
 
 The morning after the clearing of the storm, 
 June and Jim Albert were up before dawn. 
 Though intensely cold the bright stars augured 
 fair weather, and preparations for the start 
 went on swiftly. 
 
 June cooked a meagre breakfast while Jim
 
 276 Star of the North 
 
 loaded the sledge . The dogs , whose daily ration 
 of dried fish had also suffered decrease, were 
 gaunt and wolfish. Scenting food, they crowd- 
 ed determinedly about the sledge until Jim had 
 to drive them off with his long whip. One suc- 
 cessful snatch of those white fangs, and the 
 party's predicament would indeed be serious. 
 
 Fleming Magregor, of course, was a helpless 
 burden upon the party and must ride the 
 entire distance. His broken leg, set between 
 splints skilfully shaped by the Indian's hunt- 
 ing knife, was knitting satisfactorily, but to 
 touch the foot to the ground was out of the 
 question. The long, jarring, straining journey 
 would in itself be tax enough. 
 
 Dawn was a faint white glow in the south- 
 eastern sky when all was ready. The ghostly, 
 snow-laden trees stood motionless in the still 
 air. The wide expanse of the lake looked like 
 steel. There was no sound except an occa- 
 sional mysterious snapping in the forest depths. 
 The breaths of dogs and men were clouds of 
 white vapour which froze in frosty rime on 
 furs and shaggy coats.
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 277 
 
 June had turned back to the cabin for a last 
 inspection when she observed a human figure 
 coming along the shore of the lake towards her. 
 Surprised and curious, she waited. A mo- 
 ment later, with a shock of astonishment, she 
 recognized Gertrude Temple, wearing snow- 
 shoes and carrying some object in her hand. 
 
 In silence the other approached, and when 
 she reached the girl, set an alligator leather 
 handbag down on the snow beside her. 
 
 "Good morning, scholars," she said, cheer- 
 fully. ' ' I guess you weren't expecting me, but 
 thank Heaven, I got here in time. " 
 
 June's amazement increased. "I don't 
 quite understand," she said, blankly, "did 
 you come to see me us for any reason?" 
 
 "I sure did. I want to go south with you, 
 so I came over. Do you get up as early as 
 this every morning? Lord!" She yawned 
 with fervour and abandon, her arms out- 
 stretched, her small mouth frankly wide. 
 June, noticed that she was dressed in the rich 
 and costly furs of their former meeting. 
 
 Had she gaily tossed a dynamite bomb in
 
 278 Star of the North 
 
 their midst she could have created no more 
 havoc than did this announcement. June 
 stood speechless, aghast, trying to realize 
 that she had heard aright. 
 
 "Well, we hardly Iyou " 
 
 "What is it, June?" asked her father, a 
 little sharply, from the sledge where he sat 
 propped up against the duffle. 
 
 The girl motioned her companion, and to- 
 gether they walked towards him. 
 
 "It's Miss Mackay, " June explained. " She 
 has come over from her camp and wants us to 
 take her south with us. " 
 
 The factor's jaw dropped as he stared his 
 incredulity. 
 
 "Take her south with us!" 
 
 "Yes," Gertrude interposed, eagerly, in 
 her own behalf. "You see, Mr. Magregor, I 
 heard you say yesterday you were starting for 
 Fort McLeod this morning, so when certain 
 things happened as they did I decided I 
 would like to go along. There really isn't 
 any other way for me to go, is there?" 
 
 "But why should ye go at all, ma'am?"
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 279 
 
 Magregor inquired, bluntly. "This is no 
 time for you to be leavin' here and travellin* 
 in the dead of winter. " 
 
 "Oh, but you don't understand. I must 
 go. I wouldn't think of it if there was any- 
 thing else to do, but " 
 
 "Why? I don't understand this. " He was 
 frankly ill-pleased. 
 
 "Oh, because," she burst out, "I'm going 
 south to my husband where I belong." 
 
 "Your husband!" He almost shouted the 
 words. "I didn't know ye had a husband. 
 Ye call yourself Miss Mackay!" 
 
 "Yes, I do. That was my name before I 
 was married and I use it on the stage." In 
 her anxiety to explain, to win his consent, her 
 usual impudent lightness was gone. 
 
 " But how can we take you to your husband? 
 He certainly can't be where we're going.*' 
 
 " Oh yes, he is. He's at the Graphic Camp. 
 Paul Temple is my husband." 
 
 "Paul Temple!" For a moment he was 
 helpless beneath the shock of the revelation. 
 Then he tried to adjust his ideas to it. Its
 
 280 Star of the North 
 
 deeper significance in their lives found expres- 
 sion in an involuntary glance towards June. 
 The factor had not been blind during the 
 months of Paul's association with his daughter, 
 but he had trustfully bided his time, knowing 
 that when the moment came June would tell 
 him what there was to tell. Now her face, 
 white and pinched in the frame of its parka, 
 verified his fears. The instinctive, murderous 
 rage against Paul shook him by the throat but 
 he fought it down, remembering the main issue. 
 This woman wanted to go south with them. 
 
 "Mrs. Temple," he said, evenly, "you 
 mustn't think of going with us. We haven't 
 room for you. Besides, your work is here, 
 isn't it? How can ye leave that?" 
 
 "If you're playing the lead in this picture, 
 how will they be able to finish it if you go?" 
 asked June unexpectedly, her voice hard and 
 challenging. 
 
 Gertrude flashed her a glance of fury. The 
 knowledge of opposition from this quarter 
 only served to harden her determination. 
 Yet the question was not an easy one to answer.
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 281 
 
 Possessed of a contract with Bergman so 
 favourable to herself that she was willing to 
 chance his suit, yet she knew better than 
 to offer such ethics to her interlocutors. She 
 was spared a reply by the factor, who, having 
 thought deeply, spoke again. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Mrs. Temple," he said, "but 
 ye can't come with us, ye couldn't stand it. 
 Ye've travelled little in the North, I'm think- 
 in', and we're goin' to travel hard. It'll be 
 cruel on us who have done it all our lives, but 
 it would kill you. You're not fit. You'd 
 only hold us back, and I'm drag enough as it 
 
 is." 
 
 Jim Albert, who stood impatiently nearby, 
 spoke sharply to the dogs which, restless and 
 eager to be off, were tugging tentatively at the 
 traces and sitting down again perplexed. The 
 day was growing; the dead white light in 
 the east had given place to a crimson that 
 was gradually staining snow and sky. 
 
 "Oh, but I promise to keep up, not to com- 
 plain, " Gertrude begged, earnestly. The pos- 
 sibility of refusal had not seriously occurred
 
 282 Star of the North 
 
 to her, and now it was unthinkable. Not 
 only would she be forced back to face Berg- 
 man, but the treachery of her attempted flight 
 would become known. 
 
 "Na doot ye mean well," said the factor, 
 "and would try, but that isn't all, Mrs. 
 Temple. There's the grub to think of. We've 
 none to spare; we're verra short for the three 
 of us, let alone anyone else. I tried to buy 
 some from Adams yesterday, but he couldn't 
 spare any. Ye're not used to that sort of 
 thing, Mrs. Temple. Ye couldn't stand it." 
 
 Gertrude's anxious face brightened with 
 swift relief. 
 
 "Oh, I thought of that," she cried. "I 
 knew you were short and brought my own 
 food." She pointed to the sack she had set 
 down on the snow when she had first ap- 
 proached June. 
 
 Things seemed at a deadlock. The wo- 
 man was unconquerable. Accepting every con- 
 dition gladly, there seemed no really valid 
 excuse for refusing her further. But the 
 factor was determined.
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 283 
 
 "I'm sorry, Mrs. Temple," he repeated 
 with finality, "but you can't go with us. 
 Ye'll forgive my bluntness, but it's impossible. 
 However, if there's any message we can take 
 to Mr. Temple, tell me or perhaps there's a 
 letter. I promise to deliver it to him myself. 
 Now go back to your camp and think no more 
 about this. At any other time or in other 
 circumstances we would have been glad to 
 have you, but not now." 
 
 He had asked the thing she could not, would 
 not do. Gertrude saw defeat staring her in 
 the face, and the thought of all it involved 
 whipped her to a last effort. She burst into 
 well-nigh hysterical tears, all the time desper- 
 ately seeking some way to turn her failure into 
 triumph. Then the evil inspiration came, and 
 she deliberately lied. 
 
 "You've got to take me," she sobbed, "you 
 can't do anything else. Y-you asked me 
 about the picture and I wouldn't tell you at 
 first, b-but now I will. Last night I had an 
 awful row with Bergman, our owner, b-because 
 I got lost in the storm and he told me to get
 
 284 Star of the North 
 
 out d-didn't want me there any longer. He 
 said he was g-going to give my part to some- 
 one else, and that he was done with me, the 
 b-black beast!" 
 
 Her tears strangled her for a moment, but 
 presently she rushed on. 
 
 "I knew he m-meant it, but where was I 
 to go? Then I thought of my husband, of 
 P-Paul. Who else could I go to? Who else 
 ought to take care of me ? I I knew you were 
 starting south and would see him, and what 
 other way was there for me to get to him than 
 go with you? I can't go back to the camp, 
 Mr. Magregor, and if you leave without me, 
 what '11 I do? I've no one else to turn to. 
 You can't leave me here to die!" The last 
 words were a wail of despair. 
 
 Obviously, Magregor could not leave her 
 here to die. None knew that better than he. 
 Her ultimate appeal did not fall on deaf ears. 
 And yet he did not want her. He thought 
 of driving to the Stellar Camp and trying 
 to patch up matters between this woman 
 and her persecutors. But that meant delay,
 
 An Unwelcome Guest 285 
 
 perhaps another day of it, and they had wasted 
 enough time already. 
 
 As if for advice he looked to June, who 
 throughout the whole colloquy had stood 
 silent and motionless. She met his glance 
 with one of utter defeat. 
 
 "I think we had better take Mrs. Temple 
 with us, " she said in a dead, colourless voice. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, dearie, you are my friend, " 
 cried the other plaintively as she dried her 
 tears. 
 
 Magregor glanced .at his watch. Already 
 the sun hung a pale red ball above the woods 
 on the far shore of the lake. 
 
 "Under the circumstances I can't refuse 
 ye, Mrs. Temple," he said, ungraciously. 
 "Jim, throw that bag on here and get started. 
 We've lost an hour already. "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE FIRST STOP 
 
 HpHE crossing of Loon Lake soon revealed the 
 nature of the work before them. The 
 new snow lay two feet deep and was as loose 
 and shifting as sand, the intense cold having 
 prevented the gritty flakes from melting to 
 form a frozen crust. Magregor had deliber- 
 ately waited until this morning to start in 
 the hope that the sun of the afternoon before 
 would effect a change so well worth the delay, 
 but the sudden drop in temperature had 
 defeated him. 
 
 Now the going was heavy. Under the 
 factor's weight the sledge sunk deep and 
 the dogs floundered and slipped through the 
 elusive footing. Jim Albert tramping ahead, 
 tried to pack some sort of trail with his broad 
 
 snow-shoes but accomplished little. 
 
 286
 
 The First Stop 287 
 
 However, the lake offered luxury compared 
 with the travelling they found in the forest 
 beyond the southern shore. Here among the 
 spruces and jack-pines there was no level, 
 open surface, but a rough and ready country 
 of gullies, muskeg swamps, and hills. It was 
 deep woods work and bristled with obstacles, 
 abrupt declivities, protruding tree limbs, 
 submerged stumps and boulders. And for 
 all their careful driving, the sledge heaved and 
 careened until the factor groaned in agony. 
 Here they moved through a windlessness as 
 complete as chaos must have been before the 
 Word. But Creation had come, white and 
 undulating, and across its blind face the slim 
 tree trunks cast straight blue shadows. 
 
 And yet life still pulsed tenuously in this 
 wilderness of death. Whiskey-jacks scolded 
 from tree-tops, and snow-buntings and gros- 
 beaks hopped about in search of food. Squir- 
 rels, too, ventured curiously from their snug 
 holes, and once the sledge crossed a wind- 
 protected spot where caribou had yarded up. 
 
 June and Gertrude trudged abreast on op-
 
 288 Star of the North 
 
 posite sides of the gee-pole, silent at first in 
 the constraint of their re-association. But as 
 the minutes passed, the girl made crisp sugges- 
 tions; showed the other how to use her snow- 
 shoes with less effort and more comfort; 
 warned her to loosen her furs at the throat 
 when she grew warm, to prevent overheating ; 
 told her to breathe through the nose and talk 
 little in fear of the action of great cold upon 
 the tissues of the lungs, which results in a 
 swift and fatal pneumonia. 
 
 Gertrude trudged resolutely. If ever in 
 a pampered and ease-loving life she had de- 
 termined to accomplish a purpose, it was 
 now. Warned in advance of the hardships to 
 be expected, she faced them doggedly. Aware 
 that her presence in the party was unwelcome, 
 and that she had forced its acceptance with 
 deceit, she realized that she could look for 
 neither help nor sympathy from the Magregors. 
 
 In moments when the thrashing gee-pole 
 did not claim all her attention, June thought 
 with dull passivity of the future. What 
 would be the effect on their lives of this
 
 The First Stop 289 
 
 woman's arrival at Graphic Camp? At least 
 it would swiftly and finally end her suspense 
 and pain, she conceded a barren comfort. 
 
 Mainly her thoughts were not for herself, 
 but for the man she loved. June's own experi- 
 ences with Gertrude had revealed the hidden 
 tragedy of Paul's life even while they had 
 restored her faith in his fundamental honour, 
 and she could understand now the moments of 
 dark depression that had gripped him so often 
 during their early acquaintance. And this 
 woman would reopen and continue that vol- 
 ume of his life that he had closed forever! 
 
 She imagined Gertrude's descent upon the 
 camp, and with a kind of prophetic vision saw 
 her moving through its busy harmony like an 
 embodied Discontent, the inevitable foam of 
 trouble seething in her wake. 
 
 And what would it all bring to June herself? 
 She did not know, but she faced the event with 
 a courage strong with faith and hope, and most 
 of all, love. Life presented a bitter and inex- 
 plicable aspect to her that day, strangely 
 
 different from the innocent, girlish face of six 
 19
 
 290 Star of the North 
 
 months before, so far had she travelled and so 
 much had she lived since then. 
 
 Gertrude, because speech was dangerous, 
 had to be content with pluming herself silently 
 upon her success. During that long night vigil 
 in the Stellar Camp, she had earnestly sought 
 the course of action which would yield her the 
 most, and had finally decided that it lay in 
 return to her husband. Her recent defeat of 
 the Magregors added much to her satisfaction. 
 
 These matters occupied her thoughts for the 
 first hour. Then, panting after a long, heavy 
 climb she paused for breath on the crest of a 
 hill. Instantly the sledge had glided past her 
 and she was in its wake with distance steadily 
 widening between them. Jim, the dogs, and 
 June went on without an instant's pause. 
 Steadily, monotonously, without haste, they 
 pushed on at their unchanging pace, a pace 
 that, though it held something in reserve, ate 
 up the miles like the lope of a wolf. They 
 could and would maintain this pace for days. 
 
 Gertrude ran a few yards to catch up again. 
 Then she noticed that the snow behind the
 
 The First Stop 291 
 
 sledge was smoother and harder-packed than 
 the unbroken trail beside the gee-pole, and 
 did not push up to her former position. But 
 even here she was breathing hard and glowing 
 with the violent exercise. 
 
 Presently muscles long unused commenced 
 to send out their first signals of distress. Her 
 snow-shoes occasionally crossed, causing her to 
 stumble. A particularly careless step and she 
 fell prone, but the next instant was up, with a 
 laughing sally at her clumsiness. 
 
 The others apparently had not heard. Al- 
 ready they were ten yards ahead. No one 
 had hesitated had even looked around. On 
 they went, doggedly, at that steady, killing 
 pace. 
 
 As she ran again to overtake them, Gertrude 
 experienced a flash of anger. Didn't they 
 know she wasn't used to this sort of thing? 
 They might at least make allowances! Then 
 she recalled her difficult position and, setting 
 her teeth, plodded on. 
 
 At last, when she felt that she must rest or 
 fall down in her tracks, the factor looked at
 
 292 Star of the North 
 
 his watch and spoke sharply to the dogs. 
 They halted at once, and Jim Albert turned 
 back for the first time since the start. Evi- 
 dently it was noon. The Indian at once 
 commenced to chop wood for the fire while 
 June loosened the pack on the sledge. Ger- 
 trude, arriving a few seconds after the halt, 
 summoned a smile and sank down in the snow 
 beside the sledge, too tired to speak. 
 
 ' ' Only half an hour, ' ' said the factor. ' ' We 
 don't make much headway in this going." 
 Then, turning to his guest with perfunctory 
 courtesy, "Feeling all right, Mrs. Temple?" 
 
 "Oh, fine!" she replied, gallantly. Then, 
 faint with the mortal hunger that accom- 
 panied her exhaustion, suggested: "But say, 
 don't you want to use some of the grub I 
 brought? You might find it a kind of a 
 change." 
 
 Magregor hesitated. 
 
 "Why, yes, " he acceded, "though we 
 haven't time to eat much. June, ye might 
 open that bag." 
 
 The girl untied the string at the neck, and
 
 The First Stop 293 
 
 reaching in her hand pulled out an object at 
 which she stared in perplexed wonder: It 
 was a can wrapped in fancy paper, upon which 
 one significant word stood out boldly. It was 
 
 TRUFFLES 
 
 June sat rigid for an instant, undecided 
 whether to laugh or cry, the thing was so 
 hopeless and yet so characteristic. Gertrude 
 watched her in pleased expectancy. 
 
 Then the girl tried again, and this time 
 brought out a bottle of olives, the liquor of 
 which had frozen and burst the glass. 
 
 An awful silence fell as she proceeded to 
 empty the sack. Worthless article after 
 worthless article followed until at the end the 
 only supplies of any value were a loaf of bread 
 and two tins of meat. Obviously, at the first 
 chance Gertrude had done her best to enlarge 
 the poverty-stricken diet of her benefactors. 
 
 Magregor, only too well aware of what this 
 pitiful display meant to them all, did not 
 speak for a moment. Then he said in an even 
 voice:
 
 294 Star of the North 
 
 "Throw all that stuff away except the bread 
 and meat. I'm afraid of it, and it weighs too 
 much even to carry. And Jim, this cuts us 
 down so much we can't eat this noon. Boil 
 tea."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 LOVE WATCHES 
 
 GRAPHIC could scarcely contain it- 
 self that morning. Tom Briscoe, rising in 
 his place at breakfast, had announced that the 
 end was in sight, that another week would 
 finish the work and conclude this Siberian 
 exile. Then for New York! The instant's 
 breathless silence that had greeted the words 
 was ended by a roof -lifting yell during which 
 Goldie Burke commenced to weep into her 
 corn-meal mush. 
 
 "I could marry that man!" she sobbed, 
 almost unbalanced by joy, a fact she admitted 
 later when taxed with her words. " Oh, Lord ! 
 to see the Big Light again and hear the Big 
 Noise! There'll be little things on wheels to 
 ride in, an' food to eat, an' places to go. 
 Nothing I've got but my union suits will be in 
 
 295
 
 296 Star of the North 
 
 style, but I don't care. They can dress me 
 up like an orphan if they'll only let me see an 
 afternoon extry, an' watch the crowds on 
 Broadway after the Saturday matunnay. I 
 could die happy suffocated with gasoline on 
 Fifth Avenoo!" 
 
 This picture proved too touching, and fresh 
 tears rolled down to the end of her reddened 
 nose. 
 
 Elsie Tanner on her right, sympathized 
 mechanically, but her soft eyes were dark with 
 pain. These had been happy weeks for her. 
 Because she was near to Paul, thrown into the 
 unavoidable intimacy of the camp, she had 
 found his cheery, friendly indifference a bitter- 
 sweet comfort. And now it must end. With 
 a break-up would come separation, and the 
 starved pleasure of occasional studio meetings. 
 She wished bitterly that some great blizzard 
 would come and snow them in forever. 
 
 Baillie, seated near a window at one of the 
 long tables, greeted the announcement with 
 mingled emotions. From one standpoint he 
 could not get back to New York soon enough.
 
 Love Watches 297 
 
 Realizing his defeat here, he wanted matters 
 ended at once, and a new hand dealt all round. 
 Yet he awaited eagerly June's return. He 
 only desired one thing now : to see her face as 
 she read the letter from Paul's wife he had 
 stolen that day of his confinement to the bunk- 
 house. 
 
 As time passed, his infatuation for June, 
 thwarted of fulfilment, had cooled suddenly 
 and completely, as such feelings do. He 
 wondered how he could have lost his head so 
 over "that ignorant little backwoods hick." 
 
 "Lord, " he thought sometimes, "if I'd ever 
 flashed that on New York, the town would 
 have split its sides laughing!" 
 
 Now he only asked revenge, and he would 
 call the incident closed. His smarting pride 
 and self-esteem demanded assuagement; to 
 hurt June in her turn and see her writhe. 
 And incidentally to rowel Temple to the very 
 vitals. His one uneasiness was that Temple 
 would discover the loss of the letter before he 
 could use it. But that was a chance he had to 
 take, so he thought no more about it.
 
 298 Star of the North 
 
 But Temple's mind was on other things 
 than rummaging in trunks and mooning over 
 his wife's letters. In fact he never thought of 
 Gertrude except in connection with the confes- 
 sion he must make when June returned. He 
 was too busy. "A Wilderness Idyl" was 
 finished, and the company was uniting in a 
 final spurt to clear up the short stuff Briscoe 
 had laid out. Three small companies were at 
 work simultaneously, two of them with prom- 
 ising minor people in the leads an example 
 of Briscoe's methods to inspire loyalty and 
 ambition and the company would return 
 with enough snow stuff to vary the regular 
 Graphic program for a year. Paul himself 
 both directed and acted. 
 
 Briscoe's announcement had startled Paul 
 a little. It brought home to him concretely 
 the realization of how little time remained for 
 him to settle the great problem of his life. He 
 and June must understand each other finally 
 before he left the North. Whether the com- 
 pany moved out on the day specified or not, he 
 knew he would not go until he had seen her.
 
 Love Watches 299 
 
 Today her continued absence worried him. 
 It was the tenth day since her departure, and 
 she had told him that with ordinary luck 
 the journey to rescue her father should not 
 take more than seven. Crushing down a 
 natural anxiety, Paul had managed to lose 
 himself in his work and pass that week. Then 
 on the eighth day, hearing nothing, he had 
 gone down to Fort McLeod to interview the 
 Indians. 
 
 Maria and old Hawkbill her husband had 
 reassured him: no reason to worry yet; with 
 Jim and Missy nothing could happen to the 
 factor ; though their plans should miscarry, yet 
 they could meet any emergency that might 
 arise ; they knew the country and the neces- 
 sities of winter travel too well; still, if they 
 hadn't come in three or four days, there might 
 be some cause for uneasiness. 
 
 This was the third day and Paul was anxious. 
 Owing to the fact that the weather at Camp 
 Graphic had been uniformly good except for a 
 few cloudy days and a flurry of snow, he could 
 not imagine what had delayed the travellers
 
 300 Star of the North 
 
 except an accident. He determined to visit 
 the Fort again at once. 
 
 Committing a sort of treason, he dismissed 
 his company in mid-afternoon, and tramped 
 the two miles on snow-shoes with steadily 
 increasing apprehension. He found the Hud- 
 son's Bay post with paths cleared and fires 
 burning, and both Indians in the big warm 
 kitchen. At the first mention of the matter 
 that had brought him, he found a response to 
 his uneasy mood. 
 
 'Gone too long," admitted John Hawkbill, 
 shaking his head. "Afraid now mebbe some- 
 thing happen. Big storms there." He in- 
 dicated the north. 
 
 "But Ju Miss Magregor took plenty of 
 grub." 
 
 "No grub plenty this country." 
 
 Temple was greatly disturbed. 
 
 "Well, what can we do? We must do 
 something." 
 
 "If they not come today, start men after 
 'em." 
 
 Temple thought.
 
 Love Watches 301 
 
 "Can you go? Have you got a good dog- 
 team here?" he asked. 
 
 The other grunted. "Young dogs. Not 
 much good. It would take two days 
 to round up trappers to go with him," he 
 added. . 
 
 Paul exclaimed sharply. This would not do 
 at all. From that moment he forgot every- 
 thing except June's possible peril. He paced 
 the low, smoke-stained kitchen for a minute. 
 Then he spoke with new decision. 
 
 "We've got a dog- team at the camp, two of 
 them, and good ones," he said, and recalled 
 that the animals would not be needed in the 
 remaining pictures. "We've got a sledge and 
 young Peter to drive them. I'm going to start 
 north after Miss Magregor and the factor 
 tomorrow morning. Have you got plenty of 
 grub here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "All right. I'll see how we're fixed at camp 
 and if we need any we'll call on you. " 
 
 A look of relief passed over the Indian's 
 leathery face.
 
 302 Star of the North 
 
 "But mebbe they come tonight," he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " I've thought of that. We'll start at dawn 
 tomorrow and drive here. If you haven't 
 heard anything Jim Albert might come on 
 ahead, you know, we'll go right on. And we 
 can take on your grub if we need it. Have it 
 ready, will you? And some extra blankets 
 and a flask of whiskey?" 
 
 Hawkbill assented. 
 
 Temple at once returned to camp, his mind 
 haunted by torturing pictures. He imagined 
 June starving or hurt, lying helpless, perhaps, 
 in some bleak shelter, wondering in her pain 
 why he did not come. He pictured the little 
 party fighting for their lives with the great 
 grey timber wolves, whose weird ululations 
 he had heard sometimes at night as a travelling 
 pack swept by in the distance. Such things 
 were not unheard-of. Pierre, the wood-cutter 
 at camp, had ghastly tales to tell of trappers' 
 clean bones discovered in the spring after the 
 snow had gone. 
 
 It was dark when he arrived, and he went
 
 "Love Watches 303 
 
 directly to the "office" where a light told him 
 that Briscoe was at work. The director was 
 seated before his cheap table, tabulating the 
 results of the day's work, and looked up 
 sharply from under a green eyeshade at the 
 other's entrance. 
 
 "Hullo, Paul!" A moment's stare. "What's 
 the matter? Seen a ghost?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Temple closed the door and probed the 
 shadows quickly for a chance visitor. Then 
 he told what had transpired that afternoon 
 and the action he had promised. 
 
 Briscoe listened with more than casual 
 interest. He had not forgotten that unmen- 
 tioned visit of his to Fort McLeod when he had 
 offered to make June great under his direction. 
 Though she had put him off then, and had 
 given no definite answer since, he still clung 
 to the idea tenaciously. At the top of his 
 profession, with fame and fortune assured, it 
 was still his ambition to cause one supreme 
 star to swim into the dramatic firmament, to 
 "discover" a great artist.
 
 304 Star of the North 
 
 Whether June was of the requisite calibre, 
 he did not know, but intuition urged him to 
 make the trial, and therein lay his present 
 interest in Paul's narrative. 
 
 But one thing made him scowl as the story 
 went on; that was Temple's obvious love for 
 June. No influence that played upon his 
 people annoyed Briscoe as did ' ' this love busi- 
 ness." And if he were to make anything of 
 June, this fol-de-rol must be forgotten. Give 
 him a year in which this girl should be his, to 
 do with absolutely as he would, and he would 
 abide by the public's decision. But in that 
 year there must be no love, no interest outside 
 of work and himself. This was his dream as 
 Paul told of the relief expedition he had prom- 
 ised, and it was characteristic of him that while 
 June might be dying by inches in the wilder- 
 ness he was living in the glory of his great 
 ambition. 
 
 "What?" he stammered, vaguely, when the 
 other ended. "Oh, yes, sure you did right 
 to offer the sledge and dogs. Sure! Couldn't 
 in decency do anything else. But they'll
 
 Love Watches 305 
 
 have to supply the grub. ' ' He got up from the 
 table, a thick, square chunk of a man, and 
 commenced striding up and down the con- 
 fined space with that intense energy that never 
 left him even after a twenty-hour day's work. 
 
 "Of course you'll go? " he shot out. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Who'll you take with you?" 
 
 "Peter, the Indian dog- trainer, and Welch, 
 one of the trappers. " 
 
 "They figure the Magregors are in a tight 
 place?" 
 
 "Yes; something must have happened or 
 they would have got back by this time. " 
 
 " H'm ! " Briscoe walked up and down, and 
 presently his eyes lighted. ' ' Starving maybe, " 
 he mused, eagerly, "falling down one by one, 
 but fighting on because the spark of life won't 
 die; famished dogs, and the old factor lyin' 
 there communin' with his Presbyterian soul. 
 Great! Great!" 
 
 Paul looked at him murderously. For the 
 first time in their long association he longed to 
 get his hands on that thick bull-neck. 
 
 20
 
 306 Star of the North 
 
 "Gad, I'll do it!" shouted the director. 
 "Gene Perkins and his camera go with you. 
 If he gets some good realistic stuff we can 
 use it for the punch of a one-reel thriller, and 
 whip the rest of it into shape before we start 
 home, even if we have to stay over another 
 day. Let's see what can we have for a 
 story? H'm! H'm! ... By thunder, 
 how's this for a situation!" 
 
 "Everything's all right. We go then?" 
 Paul interrupted him. 
 
 "Yes, yes, go to hell, " snarled the big man 
 in the throes of inspiration, and Paul hurried 
 out. 
 
 The next morning at dawn they started; 
 Peter, Welch, Temple, and Perkins, with an 
 eight-dog team. No one except the cooks 
 watched them go, for Paul had made a secret 
 of the journey. At McLeod, Maria and John 
 were waiting with the supplies packed. They 
 had heard no word since the afternoon before ; 
 no one had come. 
 
 While the sledge was being loaded they dis- 
 cussed routes. Jim Albert had outlined to
 
 Love Watches 307 
 
 Maria his approximate trail home, on the day 
 of his arrival with news of the factor's injury, 
 but there was no certainty that he would 
 follow it exactly now. Even should he do so, 
 those going north could not be sure of meet- 
 ing him. The parties might camp within half 
 a mile of each other and be unaware of the 
 fact, unless one crossed the other's trails. On 
 the other hand, Peter and Welch knew the 
 country well and could not go far wrong. 
 
 "All ready?" said Paul at last. "Get off 
 that sledge, Perkins. " The languid one had 
 taken part neither in the loading or the dis- 
 cussion. He arose with a reproachful look. 
 
 "All ready," returned Welch in his place 
 ahead of the dogs. 
 
 Peter cracked his whip and they were off.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE BITTER TRAIL 
 
 I IM ALBERT knelt beside the inert body on 
 the snow and shook it, rolling it back and 
 forth. And as he rolled, he spoke, repeating 
 the same words over and over. 
 
 "Grub ready; we go now; hurry up. " 
 It was the black hour before dawn. The 
 burdened trees that stood motionless about 
 the little clearing were illumined fitfully by 
 the camp-fire. Above, the stars coruscated 
 like diamonds through an atmosphere that 
 seemed as clear and cold as the interstellar 
 ether itself. By the fire June knelt cooking 
 something in a skillet. A tin tea-pot balanced 
 crazily on two stones nearby, and the factor, 
 his face strangely livid and expressionless, 
 reclined against a tree. 
 
 Steadily Jim rolled the inert body. 
 308
 
 The Bitter Trail 309 
 
 At last there came a faint sound, and he 
 ceased, to look down into a pair of glazed 
 eyes, open but uncomprehending. 
 
 "Grub ready; we go now; get up." 
 
 Again the sound. Then the eyes cleared 
 gradually and Gertrude tried to move. But 
 she lay helpless as if cast in some mould, only 
 the heaving of her chest revealing the intensity 
 of her effort. 
 
 "Gawd!" she gasped. "Help me, can't 
 you!" 
 
 Obediently Jim Albert loosened the sleeping- 
 bag and raised her to a sitting posture where 
 she remained a few moments panting. The 
 famished dogs, running about the circle of 
 firelight, their eyes on the hissing skillet, 
 caused spokes of shadow to revolve among 
 the trees. With the Indian's help Gertrude 
 struggled to her feet. Her furs were torn and 
 dirty, her wasted face dark with grime and ex- 
 haustion. Great shadows encircled her heavy 
 eyes, and a frowsy strand of discoloured hair 
 protruded from her parka. 
 
 " Breakfast's ready. "
 
 310 Star of the North 
 
 June poured out the re-steepings of last 
 night's tea-leaves, and served the pitiful 
 portions of food, after which she carried her 
 father's share to him. 
 
 Gertrude made her way towards the fire 
 with stiff, mechanical movements, dragging 
 her feet across the snow. At the smell of 
 cooking her eyes gleamed, and she whimpered 
 with eagerness as June held out her plate. 
 But a sudden savagery leaped from her like a 
 darting flame when she saw what it contained. 
 
 "You devil!" she snarled, between parched 
 lips. "Think I don't know you're trying 
 to kill me! Because I'm weak. . . . The 
 three of you against me! . . . 
 
 June turned away, and neither of the others 
 spoke. For three days, numb and helpless, 
 they had seen first the rebellion, and then the 
 breakdown of Gertrude Temple. This was 
 the morning of the fourth day, and because of 
 her, they were little more than half-way to 
 Fort McLeod. Unanswered, communing bit- 
 terly with herself, Gertrude wolfed the food 
 and threw the plate to the ground.
 
 The Bitter Trail 311 
 
 While Jim got the dogs into harness, June 
 washed the dishes, rolled up the sleeping- 
 things, and packed the sledge. Then the two 
 lifted Fleming Magregor aboard and turned to 
 Gertrude. She stood waiting, supporting her- 
 self against a tree trunk. 
 
 Nothing was said. Jim Albert mushed on 
 the dogs and the haggard procession started. 
 There was no barking or leaping against the 
 traces now; the dogs' heads swung low and 
 their bushy tails drooped. Their little bells 
 tinkled on with stupid gaiety. The Indian 
 did not go ahead now, but walked by the gee- 
 pole. June plodded behind, and Gertrude 
 followed as best she could. 
 
 Once clear of camp, Jim Albert found better 
 going. The day before a Chinook had blown 
 from the west causing a surface thaw, and the 
 night cold had frozen a snow-crust that bore 
 the sledge and those afoot. They would go 
 faster with this help. 
 
 With June hanging to the tail-rope, the 
 sledge skidded down a bank to the level, snow- 
 covered surface of a frozen stream and the
 
 312 Star of the North 
 
 dogs stepped out more briskly. June looked 
 behind her. Gertrude, walking mechanically 
 down the treacherous incline, slipped and fell. 
 She fell unresistingly like a child that is learn- 
 ing to walk. Then after a moment she got up 
 again with difficulty and came on. There was 
 something uncanny, somnambulistic in her 
 progress. She moved with eyes staring ahead, 
 arms hanging at her sides, legs moving slowly 
 like a machine that is running down. 
 
 June's work with the sledge required all her 
 strength and attention in the woods, but on 
 open stretches such as this she could give a 
 little time to Gertrude. Now she returned 
 and thrust a steadying hand under the other's 
 arm. 
 
 But Gertrude flung her off. 
 
 "Let me alone," she said, thickly. "I 
 don't want your help. " 
 
 "But we'll get there so much quicker if we 
 go faster," June explained with monotonous 
 patience. Gertrude commenced to cry. 
 
 Later when they left the river June returned 
 to the sledge, but Gertrude could not climb
 
 The Bitter Trail 313 
 
 the steep bank, and both she and Jim had 
 to help her. 
 
 For an hour she struggled along, her face 
 bearing the unmistakable signs of approaching 
 exhaustion, eyes half-closed, cheeks drawn, 
 mouth open. 
 
 "Oh, I'm sorry for her," said the factor, who 
 chafed and raged at his forced inactivity, "but 
 she would come. An' the worst is she's not 
 only killing herself but she's killing us. But 
 for her we'd have been home by now. " 
 
 It was the truth, and Gertrude seemed to 
 realize it. Nothing else could account for the 
 incredible fortitude with which she forced 
 herself along. And yet there was something 
 else, and she revealed it another time when 
 June tried to help her. 
 
 "I will get to him," she had panted, with 
 feverishly blazing eyes. "What are you help- 
 ing me for? Where are you taking me? You 
 shan't have him, I tell you!" 
 
 Gradually she commenced to fall back. At 
 the end of half an hour she was a quarter of a 
 mile behind. Jim halted the dogs and they
 
 314 Star of the North 
 
 all waited. There was nothing else to do. 
 They could not turn back. Jim's route, while 
 the shortest, led away from the usual winter 
 trails, and their chance of encountering a 
 traveller was small. To deviate now to some 
 trapper's cabin only to find that he had left for 
 more favourable grounds would be taking too 
 great a risk. Only one course lay open to 
 them to fight on. 
 
 When Gertrude came up at last they waited 
 a few precious minutes longer and then started 
 the dogs. Now they entered a region across 
 which fire had swept in a wave twenty miles 
 wide. Bare, blackened tree trunks protruded 
 from the snow. There was nothing else, 
 no undergrowth or signs of life ; it was a coun- 
 try of absolute death where Jim Albert knew 
 his daily wide circuit in search of game would 
 be futile. 
 
 It had proved futile every other day, ex- 
 cept for a rabbit or two, for year by year the 
 good game country moved farther north, and 
 this region was thinning fast. Jim's hope was 
 for a chance-found herd of caribou or moose,
 
 The Bitter Trail 315 
 
 pawing for moss beneath the snow of the 
 muskeg barrens, but the one time he had 
 sighted such a herd the animals had fled 
 before he could get within range. 
 
 As time passed, the waits for Gertrude be- 
 came more frequent, and longer. Through 
 it all she remained mute, like some tortured 
 animal, struggling forward with sharp, pant- 
 ing breaths that sounded harsh in the sur- 
 rounding stillness. Then about ten o'clock 
 she fell, and when the others set her on 
 her feet, could not walk, but fell again, help- 
 lessly. 
 
 June and Jim Albert looked at each other, 
 startled. This point of collapse had been 
 reached every day of the journey except the 
 first, and each time at an earlier hour, but 
 always in the afternoon. The writing in the 
 sky was growing plainer. The two half- 
 dragged, half-carried Gertrude to the sledge, 
 and carefully shifting the factor, crowded her 
 in beside him. Then, taking ropes attached 
 one on each side, they called on the dogs. 
 The animals strained at their double load,
 
 316 Star of the North 
 
 and with the other two tugging like draft 
 horses at the ropes, they went on. 
 
 On level stretches they made good progress, 
 but in the rough going of the woods, the crust 
 was not strong enough to support such weight, 
 and the runners broke through first on one side 
 and then on the other. Then, as if it had 
 been a mired vehicle, the two afoot would 
 manoeuvre to extricate it, sometimes having 
 to lift the helpless woman off before they could 
 get the sledge upon the crust again. 
 
 It was cruel work. The dogs, giving the 
 best they knew, steamed and panted. June, 
 for all her splendid fitness and endurance, only 
 possessed of a woman's strength, felt the slow, 
 leaden lassitude of exhaustion stealing over 
 muscles and nerves. This thing could not go 
 on long, she knew. 
 
 Only the Indian remained undaunted, able 
 still to match strength and cunning against 
 the forces that were gradually closing upon 
 them. In this ultimate test of fitness to 
 environment, he triumphed. He was the 
 anchor about which they swung. Should he
 
 The Bitter Trail 317 
 
 fail or accident come, their case would be 
 desperate indeed .... 
 
 Now as noon approached, another element 
 began to make itself felt. Though the warmth 
 of the low-hanging sun was feeble, yet it 
 proved sufficient with the warm wind to soften 
 the snow-crust, and now the sledge broke 
 through continuously, bringing the dogs up 
 with a jerk. 
 
 At last, on one of these occasions the final 
 misfortune occurred. The sledge careened 
 so suddenly that Gertrude was flung heavily 
 half-across the factor upon his broken leg. 
 His shout of agony brought the others and, 
 while he sat with livid face, the inert form was 
 lifted off, and June and Jim Albert examined 
 the injury. The splints had been moved, and 
 the newly knitting bone wrenched. How 
 serious the damage might be they did not 
 know, but it was obvious that this method 
 of travel must be abandoned and another 
 devised. They had reached the impasse. 
 
 As noon was so near, they made their camp 
 and boiled tea, and while they drank it, sodden
 
 3i8 Star of the North 
 
 with weariness, they discussed the question. 
 
 "Let's try this, father," June suggested, at 
 last. ' ' Let Jim drive you on two or three miles 
 and leave you. I'll wait here with Mrs. 
 Temple till Jim can drive back and get her. 
 It will be slow, but " 
 
 "And ask the dogs to travel nine miles to 
 gain three?" asked Magregor, gently. "No, 
 June, that won't save us. With the grub 
 we've got we might as well stay here and face 
 things out. " He shut his eyes for a moment, 
 and his face seemed very grey. Though the 
 others had suffered on this journey, his 
 torments, both physical and mental had been 
 infinitely greater. 
 
 After a few moments of silence his eyes 
 opened and he spoke again cheerfully, almost 
 gaily. 
 
 "After all, it's quite simple," he said. 
 "Why didn't I think of it before? You 
 three hurry on down to the Fort for help, and 
 leave me behind. I'll make out grand, I 
 know. " 
 
 June looked at him quickly, undeceived by
 
 The Bitter Trail 319 
 
 the lightness with which he offered the sacri- 
 fice. To leave him now after his recent hurt 
 was unthinkable, and the words of refusal 
 were on her tongue when Gertrude, who had 
 sat huddled on the snow like some broken 
 Buddha, raised her bleared eyes and spoke. 
 
 "Forget it," she croaked. "If anybody's 
 goin' to stay, I am. I'm done. I can't 
 take another step, and I won't." She licked 
 her cracked lips, staring weakly from one to 
 another. "God, I'm tired! I can't walk. 
 I can't, I tell you! What do you expect of 
 me anyway? " Two ready tears coursed down 
 her cheeks. "That damn sledge! I'd sooner 
 die than touch it again. " 
 
 "But we oughtn't to leave you, Mrs. 
 Temple," said June, hopelessly. "We'll get 
 along somehow. We'll " 
 
 The other turned on her. 
 
 "What do you talk like that for? You 
 know, you want to leave me. You want me 
 to die." She paused, a moment and then 
 added with incredible bitterness: "You win. 
 Ain't that enough for you?" Then the
 
 320 Star of the North 
 
 torment of her outraged body overwhelmed 
 her again sweeping aside all considerations 
 but its own imperative demand. Every nerve 
 and tissue cried aloud in agonized protest. 
 To rest, to rest! Ah, nothing mattered now 
 but that ! Under the goad her mind cringed 
 with the cringing of her flesh, and her long 
 purpose of revenge grew clouded, wavered, 
 and at last broke. Dazedly she turned back 
 to the factor. "Go on without me, d'ye 
 hear? I've wrecked this thing like you said I 
 would, but nothing could have stopped me 
 from coming. But I'm done now. I can't 
 move, and I won't ! And you needn't argue. 
 I won't go. I've stood all I'm goin* to. Do 
 you hear? All I'm goin' to!" She relapsed 
 into her Buddha-like attitude, and her eyes 
 closed. 
 
 Magregor did not argue. He merely 
 shrugged his resignation, and once more 
 Gertrude Temple had her way as she had 
 always had it. But quite without a thought 
 or word for his uncalled-for chivalry. 
 
 "It's best," he said, quietly, "but Mrs.
 
 The Bitter Trail 321 
 
 Temple, ye need be in no danger. Men will 
 start back for ye within an hour after we 
 arrive. We'll leave all the grub here but a 
 mouthful, and if ye bide as I tell ye, ye'll pull 
 through all right. " 
 
 Gertrude made no reply, and Magregor 
 commenced to plan, his lips compressed. 
 
 "Jim, see if ye can find some shelter for 
 Mrs. Temple. We haven't time to build one. 
 And June, divide the provisions and blankets. " 
 
 The Indian wasted no time. Walking along 
 the foot of the rocky hill, a spur of which they 
 had rounded before the halt, he examined the 
 snow-covered slope keenly. 
 
 Fifty feet up he found what he sought, a 
 natural hollow in the hillside, almost a cave. 
 With wood and provisions a trapper could have 
 held out there indefinitely in actual comfort. 
 Reporting his find, he commenced to cut a 
 great supply of dry wood, while June trans- 
 ferred the blankets and food to the shelter. 
 Finally, they half -carried Gertrude there, and 
 shook her from her stupor into a state of 
 consciousness. 
 
 ai
 
 322 Star of the North 
 
 "Sleep all you like," June told her. "If 
 you stay in the sleeping-bag and protect your 
 face, it won't matter whether the fire goes out 
 or not. You have plenty of matches to start 
 another. With your rifle you needn't be 
 afraid of anything; nothing will harm you. 
 Make your grub last two days. The men 
 ought to be here on the third. And most of 
 all, stay where you are. Don't go away. The 
 search party will come straight here, and if 
 you're here they'll find you. It's perfectly 
 simple and you'll be quite all right. " 
 
 Gertrude nodded mechanically. She seemed 
 in a stupor. June repeated her instructions, 
 and then, after the fire was blazing brightly on 
 the floor of the cave, she returned with Jim 
 to the sledge. Ten minutes later they were 
 off on the last desperate lap of their journey.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 / 
 
 TRAILS CROSS 
 
 hallucination. She seemed to be in her New 
 York apartment, that place of luxury, safety, 
 and laziness. Still, she wondered why Yvonne 
 hadn't closed the windows and turned on the 
 heat; the north-west winds sweeping across 
 the Hudson made her bedroom very cold, she 
 thought. And she felt strangely weak and 
 hungry, quite certain she was going to be 
 ill. 
 
 She opened her sticky eyes with difficulty 
 and the vision vanished as a pale yellow sun 
 blinded her. She looked up to see the over- 
 hang of the little cave where she lay, and after 
 a dazed moment the whole ghastly truth 
 rushed back. And in the gradual realization 
 
 323
 
 324 Star of the North 
 
 came overwhelming despair. Tears of mis- 
 ery rose to her eyes. What would become 
 of her? What, oh what had she done to earn 
 this? 
 
 Her feelings of cold and hunger increased 
 until dominant instincts in her urged sharply 
 to self-preservation, and she fought her way up 
 to a sitting posture despite the agony of her 
 stiffened muscles. As she searched for matches 
 she remembered that the sun had been in its 
 present position when she saw it last. She 
 must have slept the clock around. 
 
 With infinite difficulty and pain she broke 
 a few twigs and started a fire, adding larger 
 and larger wood as it grew. The heat striking 
 her shrivelled, grimy hands made her shiver 
 gratefully. She found she was thirsty and 
 filled a saucepan with clean snow to melt. 
 
 Everything was near at hand, and Gertrude 
 did not walk. She hitched about her narrow 
 domain, or crawled on all fours, looking, with 
 her tattered furs and bedraggled, unkempt 
 hair, like some creature half-human, half- 
 animal a survivor of the Cave People.
 
 Trails Cross 325 
 
 With trembling eagerness she opened the 
 caribou-skin grub-sack at her side. Hers was 
 not the sharp-toothed hunger of health nor yet 
 the pain of fasting. It was the continuous, 
 gnawing torment of semi-starvation, the mor- 
 tal anguish of dying tissues. 
 
 She was travelling the way of death and she 
 knew it, and the sight of her handful of provi- 
 sions filled her with a sudden, terrified panic. 
 Wild-eyed, she sat trembling. Was she 
 doomed to starve here by inches? God! that 
 couldn't come to her. No, no! The thing 
 was preposterous; it didn't happen to people of 
 her class. Some poor Indian or trapper, per- 
 haps, but not Gertrude Temple, known up and 
 down Broadway, star of "A Magdalene of the 
 Snows." 
 
 But no! Not star of that, any more, or of 
 anything. Only a fallen star whirling dizzily 
 through space to an obscure end. . . . 
 
 She vaguely recalled that she must stay here 
 three days, so divided her provisions into three 
 equal parts. Then she laughed crazily at 
 the sight. What nonsense to cook three times
 
 326 Star of the North 
 
 what was not even one meal. She swept 
 them all together again. 
 
 Jim Albert had laid the few stones for the 
 fireplace, and now the saucepan was full of 
 tepid water from the melting snow. Gertrude 
 drank some, set some aside for mixing with the 
 flour, and put the rest back to heat for tea. 
 She managed to balance the frying-pan upon 
 two stones in the midst of the flames. 
 
 Twenty minutes later appetizing odours 
 filled the air, and she sat trembling with 
 eagerness, her eyes a-glitter, scarcely able to 
 restrain herself. When the food was still 
 underdone, she could wait no longer, but 
 feverishly helped herself, making a feeble at- 
 tempt to take only the allotted third. But, 
 on the flood-tide of the irresistible instinct to 
 live, she failed. Never before had she known 
 the necessity for iron control, and it was 
 scarcely to be expected that she could sum- 
 mon it now. 
 
 When she had finished, half the food was 
 gone, and she had awakened such a craving 
 for more as almost conquered her. But what
 
 Trails Cross 327 
 
 she was impotent to do herself, sudden panic 
 for the future accomplished. She put the 
 remaining food away but continued to drink 
 great quantities of scalding tea. Its warmth 
 and the feeling of nourishment she experienced, 
 made her drowsy, and throwing fresh wood on 
 the fire, she crawled back into her sleeping- 
 bag. She fell at once into a sodden, animal 
 oblivion. 
 
 When she awoke next it was night and she 
 was aching from head to foot. There were no 
 stars in the sky, and the air was damp, 
 penetrating. A few embers of the fire still 
 glowed red, and she was raising herself pain- 
 fully to throw on more wood when a sudden 
 roaring blackness enveloped her, and she 
 seemed to be sinking, whirling through a 
 vast abyss, dizzy and powerless. Then, at the 
 extreme moment things cleared again, and 
 
 L. 
 
 she found herself prone, panting fast, one 
 hand against her breast. What this was she 
 did not know, but it brought fresh terror. 
 
 Then, as she lay there, the night seemed to 
 become strangely alive. Intermittent gusts
 
 328 Star of the North 
 
 of wind roaring through the trees seemed the 
 hoarse respiration of the forest. There were 
 strange snappings and scuttlings as of creatures 
 running across fallen leaves. The oppressive 
 terror of great spaces, alien and predatory, 
 weighed down upon her with that mystery 
 which, from time immemorial, has evoked, 
 in primitive minds, legends and gods and 
 demons. 
 
 She lay stark awake, cold with the sentience 
 of her awful aloneness. And out of her terror 
 she created anew that refuge which her pri- 
 mordial ancestors created in their first terror- 
 haunted isolation God. But so afraid was 
 she for Self, that God brought little comfort 
 now, though she clamoured wildly. 
 
 Then, upon her straining ears struck a 
 sound, a long-drawn, bell-like sound, that cleft 
 the darkness like a blade and died away in 
 the distance. It rose again, longer and more 
 sustained, and louder; and the woman lay 
 frozen, her heart scarcely beating. She had 
 heard that voice of the travelling pack at 
 Stellar Camp, and had cherished the memory
 
 Trails Cross 329 
 
 of it as a colourful bit of her adventures. But 
 now its altered significance! 
 
 Was this to be the end, this inconceivable 
 horror? Had she been chosen, as she knew 
 some were chosen, to experience the awful 
 fates of life, as some men fell into boiling 
 vats and others were dragged down in tropical 
 rivers by unseen horrors below? " God! save 
 me from this!" she panted. 
 
 Then she remembered that fire would keep 
 off wild beasts, and sat up again, groping for 
 the wood. But with her hand upon a stick, she 
 hesitated. If they passed close, unsuspecting, 
 and should see her fire, what then? Her 
 loaded gun was no comfort to her. She had 
 fired plenty of cartridges from a little revolver 
 before a camera, but this would mean shooting 
 to kill, to save her own life, and she hadn't the 
 courage, the skill for it. 
 
 The howling of the pack grew nearer and 
 louder, rose and fell as the great shaggy 
 brutes running low and tirelessly, coursed on. 
 Then when it seemed that the next moment 
 must bring them to the mouth of the cave it-
 
 33 Star of the North 
 
 self, she snatched up the rifle and held it 
 ready awkwardly. But the fearful music 
 passed beyond her and gradually diminished 
 in the distance. She sank down dripping 
 with perspiration, every nerve jangling like a 
 plucked wire. 
 
 Then came a convulsive ague of reaction 
 and cold, and she knew that she must have fire. 
 But her palsy was such that at first the sticks 
 flew out of her hand as she grasped them. At 
 last the embers blazed and she huddled grate- 
 fully in the circle of heat. And with comfort 
 came a false sense of strength and a determina- 
 tion never again to go through what she had 
 just endured. Her brain, seared with terror, 
 shrank utterly from the thought of another 
 night here. 
 
 Reason pleaded with her for a brief moment. 
 She remembered June's warning not to leave 
 the shelter, and her assurance that the rescue 
 party would arrive on the third day without 
 fail. But the very fact that June had said this 
 was reason enough to cause suspicion. For 
 suffering had distorted truth until now she
 
 Trails Cross 331 
 
 believed that June had lured her on this 
 disastrous journey only to leave her to die. 
 And she cunningly determined to defeat that 
 plan. 
 
 Acting as always on impulse and spurred by 
 terror, she justified her course with sophistry. 
 If the rescuers really were coming she would 
 meet them; if not, she would be moving, 
 fighting to the last, not dying like some chained 
 animal. With hands that trembled she began 
 to gather things together, ready to pack at the 
 first glimmer of dawn. She had a watch, a 
 dainty jewelled thing suspended by a platinum 
 chain about her neck, but it had stopped three 
 days ago and she had never wound it. She 
 sat and gazed towards what she supposed to 
 be the east. 
 
 The grey light came at last from the oppo- 
 site direction and, when she caught the re- 
 flection of it, she immediately completed her 
 preparations. "I must save the food," she 
 told herself, and ate only a mouthful or two. 
 The remainder she put into the bag with some 
 of the utensils. The others, no longer of use,
 
 332 Star of the North 
 
 she discarded. Then she strapped on her 
 snow-shoes, and with the loaded rifle in one 
 hand and the pack over her shoulder, started. 
 
 She was possessed by the satisfaction that 
 comes of acting on one's own decisions for one's 
 own good. She found the noon camp of two 
 days before, and the plainly discernible trail 
 the Magregors had taken south. This she 
 followed, surprised at the ease with which she 
 walked, for her long period of inaction had 
 rested her greatly. Her only annoyance was 
 that limbs and will sometimes failed to co- 
 ordinate; she had a constant tendency to 
 continue along straight lines rather than follow 
 the curves of the trail. 
 
 She had maintained her dogged, regular 
 progress about two hours when it commenced 
 to snow. There was no wind now and the big 
 flakes descended gently, kindly. Gertrude 
 did not mind the snow. It made things 
 warmer and cosier. Then she commenced to 
 realize that the trail was growing dimmer 
 before her; presently it became entirely 
 invisible.
 
 Trails Cross 333 
 
 The full import of this fact suddenly flashed 
 upon her, and she halted, transfixed by a new 
 panic. Instinctively she faced back. Per- 
 haps she could regain the cave. It seemed the 
 warmest, safest place in the world now. Oh, 
 why had she ever left it ! But the back trail 
 was gone even as she debated. She stood still, 
 fighting that breaking down of all barriers that 
 would mean madness. Then she faced for- 
 ward again. She could follow the direction of 
 the trail. Hope lay that way and, clinging 
 to hope, she went on. 
 
 Now she walked bent forward, her bloodshot 
 eyes straining to follow the least mark, her 
 rifle barrel tracing a wavering line behind 
 her in the new snow-fluff. Sometimes she 
 stumbled as her snow-shoes clogged. There 
 came moments when she could find no sign of 
 the hidden trail. Ahead she saw a long crack 
 where a mass of snow falling from some tree 
 had split the crust. Again hope surged up 
 in her warm and new, and with a little gasp 
 of relief she turned aside and went off among 
 the trees into the unknown.
 
 334 Star of the North 
 
 It was the last flicker before the end. She 
 wandered aimlessly. Even twigs, frozen in 
 the crust, were buried now. The earth was a 
 new white page upon which the furred wild folk 
 would presently inscribe the chronicle of their 
 doings. 
 
 With all other bearings lost, Gertrude 
 thought of the sun and scanned the heavens. 
 So thick was the falling snow and so heavy the 
 grey clouds above, that the cold light offered 
 no point of intensity. She could not find 
 the sun. Bewildered but resolute, afraid 
 now to stop and think, she fought on, strangely 
 comforted by the mere fact of motion. 
 
 How long she walked she did not know. 
 But at last the old horrible weakness assailed 
 her, and she stopped beneath a great spruce 
 whose feathered arms offered shelter. 
 
 "I guess I'd better eat," she said, numbly. 
 
 She laid the rifle on the snow and com- 
 menced to unpack the things. A dead tree- 
 limb, rusty red in colour, protruding from 
 the snow nearby, furnished kindling, and 
 after constructing a little heap she felt for her
 
 Trails Cross 335 
 
 match box in the coat pocket where she 
 always carried it. Instead she found a little 
 jewel case which she had brought all the way 
 from Stellar Camp, and then remembered that 
 she had put the matches in the nest of tin 
 stewing utensils. 
 
 With a sudden sensation of physical illness 
 she dumped the contents of the pack on the 
 snow. The stewing things were not there. 
 She had discarded them that morning in the 
 cave. 
 
 A dull certainty of defeat crept over her. 
 She was beyond panic now. But the uncon- 
 querable will to live urged her to go on and on 
 to the bitter end. She had no chance, she 
 knew, but she could not sit down and wait. 
 The Stranger, who, she felt, was approaching 
 must at least overtake her as she walked. 
 
 She tried to eat the remnants of the food 
 she had cooked, but they were frozen as hard as 
 bits of iron. Nevertheless she put them in the 
 bag and stood up. She looked for her rifle but 
 could not find it. The snow had covered it 
 during the hour of her stay. "What does it
 
 33 6 Star of the North 
 
 matter ? ' ' she thought . ' ' That wouldn't save 
 me, " and stumbled off among the trees. 
 
 She was past sensation now in body and 
 mind. She scarcely knew that she moved ; her 
 limbs obeyed some behest of her dying will, 
 but treacherously. Sometimes she ran into 
 trees before she could turn aside, and twice she 
 stumbled and fell prone over stumps. 
 
 Slowly and more slowly she walked under 
 the pressure of her growing weakness, swaying, 
 with eyes half -closed. Then her snow-shoes 
 crossed and she fell and did not get up. 
 
 She returned to consciousness with a bliss- 
 ful sensation of hearing exquisite music. 
 Then, as her brain cleared, she identified it as 
 the tinkle of little bells, and its true signi- 
 ficance gradually dawned upon her. Dogs 
 and a sledge! June's rescue party from Fort 
 McLeod at last ! 
 
 She tried to raise herself, but could only roll 
 over. She summoned her strength to shriek, 
 but only gave a little feeble cry like that of a 
 new-born infant. And all the time the bells
 
 Trails Cross 337 
 
 were coming nearer, the steady tinkle-tinkle- 
 tinkle of dogs at the trot. On they came, very 
 loud now. They would run over her if 
 
 "Good God, what's this! Whoa, boys!" 
 
 The tinkling stopped, and there was a 
 scuffing sound of snow-shoes. Then a drawling 
 voice: 
 
 "Hold on! Get out of line there a minute, 
 will you, and give me a shot?" 
 
 In answer came the first voice, high-pitched, 
 tense: 
 
 "If you touch that camera, Perkins, by 
 God I'll break you in two!" 
 
 Then came a little sound of concern and 
 pity, and Gertrude knew that the speaker had 
 bent over her. The next instant she looked up 
 into the face of her husband.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 SEVERED BONDS 
 
 '"THEN, as she lay there staring blankly at 
 him, the astounding fact of his identity 
 shocked her into feeble but complete con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 "Paul!" she gasped, weakly. "Paul!" 
 He did not hear her. After a quick glance 
 at her, which had told him that this was not 
 June, he had sunk back into the desperate 
 anxiety which his fruitless search for her had 
 aroused. No suspicion of who lay before him 
 crossed his mind. It was years since he had 
 seen Gertrude, and the fur parka, fitting 
 closely about her face, covering chin and brow, 
 effectually concealed contours that he might 
 have recognized despite the pinched and 
 blackened features. Besides, he was not even 
 
 338
 
 Severed Bonds 339 
 
 aware that Gertrude or the Stellar Company 
 were in the North. 
 
 Steps sounded beside them as Perkins, the 
 camera man, foiled of his picture, lounged up 
 curiously. 
 
 "Who is it?" he asked, bending over the 
 prostrate form, "any of the party? Miss 
 Magregor ? ' ' 
 
 The words brought Temple back to the vital 
 needs of the moment. 
 
 "No," he said, rousing. "None of them. 
 I don't know who it is. Some woman, white, 
 I think, but in pretty bad shape. We'll 
 have to hurry if we're going to help her. Call 
 in Welch and Peter with the gun, and then 
 start a fire. Ill unpack the sledge. If you 
 never hurried in your life before, Perk, do it 
 now!" 
 
 When the other, aroused to the urgency of 
 the need, had gone, Paul turned back to the 
 woman. Drawing a flask from his hip pocket, 
 he slipped one arm beneath her shoulders to 
 raise her, and held the flask to her lips. She 
 drank feebly and then choked as the fiery
 
 34 Star of the North 
 
 stuff contracted her throat. But she rallied 
 to the stimulant and made another effort. 
 
 "Paul!" she said again, this time hoarsely 
 but plainly. The thing was uncanny. While 
 he stared, the three rifle-shots rang out that 
 would call in Welch and Peter who were 
 ranging the forest one on either side of the 
 sledge in the hope of crossing the Magregors' 
 trail. Then, vaguely, through the grime and 
 altered looks of the woman, Paul saw the out- 
 lines of a long unfamiliar face, and caught the 
 first glimmer of the truth. And, as if to aid 
 his reeling memory, he heard her whisper: 
 
 "Gertrude." 
 
 "Gertrude/" 
 
 It was almost a shout. He bent closer, 
 searching her face with eyes that seemed to 
 sear. Then after a moment he breathed, 
 "My God!" 
 
 "You! you! here!" he said after a dazed 
 moment. "I don't understand I " he 
 stopped, distraught, his brain whirling. 
 
 Then the first crackle of the fire that Perkins 
 had built came to him, and reminded him once
 
 Severed Bonds 341 
 
 more of immediate needs. He sprang up and 
 ran to the sledge where he rummaged in one of 
 the packs. 
 
 "Here! " he said to Perkins a moment later, 
 handing him the things. "Make tea first, 
 and then some of this gruel. " 
 
 Then he ran back to Gertrude and, kneeling 
 down, commenced to loosen her torn and 
 almost useless snow-shoes. He felt a need 
 for activity, for things to do while he absorbed 
 the shock of this strange encounter. He could 
 not, dared not, think for a little while of all 
 it meant. 
 
 Throwing the snow-shoes aside, he picked 
 her up and carried her the few yards to the 
 fire where Perkins had already spread a pile of 
 blankets. He wrapped her closely in these 
 and then turned to other details. Presently 
 he brought the tea and, cooling the cup in 
 the snow, held it, and supported her while 
 she drank. Then he moved her back from 
 the roaring fire that threatened to scorch 
 the blankets, and made her drink a second 
 cup.
 
 34 2 Star of the North 
 
 The hot, potent liquid revived her, and 
 gradually her face lost its livid hue, though 
 her nerves and limbs lay under a soporific 
 stupor of exhaustion. At last she spoke, with 
 less effort now, for her brain had the detached 
 clearness characteristic of her condition. 
 
 "How dramatic!" she said, feebly ironic. 
 11 Husband and wife meet in the wilderness 
 after long separation. " 
 
 If any proof had been needed to establish 
 her identity, her words furnished it. But he 
 could still scarcely credit his senses. 
 
 1 ' You here ! " he repeated, stupidly. ' ' How 
 on earth What are you doing in the North, 
 Gertrude?" 
 
 "Leading lady with the Stellars. Doing 
 a big feature at Loon Lake. Had my own 
 company, too." 
 
 He missed the pitiful boast. 
 
 " Stellar! They in the North? " 
 
 "Yes, and Bergman was along. You re- 
 member Bergman?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 It was Bergman looming upon the horizon
 
 Severed Bonds 343 
 
 who had divided them finally, but the memory 
 of the fact aroused no resentment in him now. 
 
 "Well, I had an awful row with him. " Her 
 eyes darkened, and her voice became faintly 
 triumphant. "And I left him stood him up 
 in the middle of his picture!" 
 
 As nothing else could have done, the state- 
 ment of this act brought back to Paul the 
 remembrance of their impossible union. She 
 was unchanged, then. Life had taught her 
 nothing ! 
 
 She went on: 
 
 "When I left him, I had no one to turn to 
 but you and I started south with the Magre- 
 gors to " 
 
 "The Magregors!" The words burst from 
 him. "You met them? Where are they? 
 How " He broke off, all his allayed fears 
 aroused again. She watched him with a sar- 
 donic, bitter look. 
 
 "Yes, I met 'em. The old man had broke 
 his leg, and they were in a cabin only two 
 miles from our camp. ... I found their shack 
 when I got lost in a blizzard, and stayed with
 
 344 Star of the North 
 
 them. ... I knew they were going south, 
 and after my row with Bergman, I made 'em 
 take me. The old man didn't want to, but I 
 made him." 
 
 Perkins came from beside the fire with 
 another cup of tea. 
 
 " Gruel ready in a minute, " he said. 
 
 Paul took the cup and again held it while 
 Gertrude drank. When he had lowered her 
 to the blankets again, she went on. After her 
 long hours of solitude and terror, speech was 
 grateful. 
 
 "Old Magregor said I couldn't stand the 
 journey south, but I didn't believe him. We 
 were awful short of grub, and I played out. 
 I'd have died if I'd gone another step, and I 
 made 'em leave me behind, in a cave. " 
 
 "Leave you!" 
 
 She misunderstood the sharp exclamation. " 
 
 "Yes. I couldn't go on, I tell you! It 
 was killing me. I didn't care what hap- 
 pened " 
 
 "But where are the others?" 
 
 She understood now. It was they of whom
 
 Severed Bonds 345 
 
 he was thinking, not of her. Again bitterness 
 and hatred showed in her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, they went on," she said, angrily. 
 "They must be at the Fort by this time. 
 They were going to send men back for me." 
 There was a pause. "I suppose you came up 
 here looking for her!" she grated. 
 
 He could not be oblivious of the sneering 
 challenge. It answered many questions that 
 had been clamouring at his mind. Gertrude 
 connected him with June. How much did she 
 know? 
 
 "Yes," he said, simply. 
 
 "And instead you found me, your wife." 
 She gave a little laugh. "Well, I told 'em I'd 
 get to you, and I have. The devil looks after 
 his own!" 
 
 "But I don't understand," he said, in an 
 effort to divert her mind. "You said they left 
 you in a cave, but I found you here. " 
 
 "They did, but alone in that place " she 
 shuddered with a recrudescence of her ter- 
 ror " God ! I couldn't stand it. The silence 
 . . . the wolves. I swore I wouldn't stay
 
 346 Star of the North 
 
 there and die that way, and I started on 
 alone." 
 
 How utterly, how mercilessly, she revealed 
 herself. He saw it all now. From the first 
 of this tragic business (he could glimpse with 
 surprising sureness all that had happened at 
 Loon Lake) she had imposed her will and de- 
 sires upon events forced Magregor to take 
 her, forced him to leave her behind, started 
 out blindly alone. It seemed a strange whim 
 of fate that he should have been destined 
 to save her from the certain death she had 
 earned. 
 
 Perkins approached again, this time with 
 the gruel, and taking it, Paul fed her slowly. 
 It was a lengthy process, and neither spoke. 
 Then gradually, under the stimulus of the heat 
 and nourishment, her tired brain faltered, and 
 her eyes drooped drowsily. He wrapped the 
 blankets snugly about her. The heavy eyes 
 opened and looked at him a moment. 
 
 "Forget it all now, Gertrude," he said 
 gently, "and just rest. That's what you 
 need more than anything now. You're per-
 
 Severed Bonds 347 
 
 fectly safe and nothing can happen to you. 
 We know just where we are, and we've got 
 plenty of grub, so you needn't feel afraid. " 
 
 How different this from the meeting she had 
 imagined between them; he angry, violent, 
 pleading for his liberty, and she queening it, 
 scornful and unyielding. His gentle, almost 
 tender attitude was surprising, a little mysti- 
 fying. What it would have meant to him to 
 have her die! she thought. And yet, he could 
 have accorded an utter stranger no more 
 scrupulous concern and care than he had 
 rendered her. 
 
 Ah, that was it after all. So far as concerned 
 his life she was just that an utter stranger! 
 She cringed inwardly and her lip trembled a 
 little. She said nothing, but closed her eyes 
 again. She would rest as he had said. It 
 was a strange sensation to obey him. He 
 would take care of her. . . . Suppose she had 
 let him take care of her all these years! . . . 
 
 Certain that she slept, Paul rose softly from 
 her side and went to help Perkins with the 
 preparations for departure. Five minutes
 
 348 Star of the North 
 
 later Peter, the Indian, and Welch arrived, in 
 response to the rifle-shots, one from the east 
 and the other from the west. As simply 
 and briefly as he could, Paul explained the 
 situation, laying emphasis on the fact that 
 the Magregors were undoubtedly safe, and 
 that the search was over. 
 
 In the midst of their low-voiced talk, Paul 
 heard his name called so sharply that he turned 
 startled. Perkins was kneeling beside Ger- 
 trude and motioning violently. Paul strode 
 towards him, filled with a vague sense of 
 foreboding. 
 
 "Something the matter here," said the 
 camera man, anxiously. "She doesn't seem 
 to be breathing, and her face " 
 
 Paul knelt down swiftly. Gertrude's face 
 was a leaden, livid hue, and she lay quite 
 still. There was no sign of animation. With 
 a sharp exclamation, Paul drew out his flask 
 and applied it to the parted brown lips. But 
 the teeth were set and he could not force the 
 liquor through. 
 
 "Jim! Peter! Here, quick!" he called,
 
 Severed Bonds 349 
 
 and the others came on the run. Without 
 speaking they sensed the crisis and joined the 
 desperate work with every restorative and 
 stimulant at their command. But with no re- 
 sponse. At last Paul thrust his hand through 
 the tattered furs and against the heart. But 
 no flutter of life reached him. Still they 
 worked on, hopeless now, until even Welch, 
 the most resourceful in this crisis, yielded with 
 a shake of his head. 
 
 "Them things happen sometimes," he said, 
 half an hour later, as they started on the 
 solemn journey home. "You see she warn't 
 used to hard travel an' short rations, an' 
 she just nachrally overstrained her heart or 
 maybe she had a bad one anyway. She kep' 
 up all right till we found her. Then she let 
 down altogether, and her heart couldn't pull 
 her through. That's all there was to it. " 
 
 During that journey south Paul Temple 
 thought of many things, but oftenest of 
 Gertrude. It seemed unreal, impossible, that 
 that poor, worn-out clay upon the sledge had
 
 350 Star of the North 
 
 once been the woman he had loved and 
 married. He had for her a strange feeling of 
 detachment and disassociation, so completely 
 had he been removed from all the past she 
 symbolized. 
 
 They had become utter aliens to one an- 
 other, he and she, not only physically but in 
 mind and spirit. During those years while 
 he had been growing, she had not advanced 
 one step. He looked back to her now as across 
 a vast distance. 
 
 Grief, in the sense of having experienced a 
 bitter and irreparable loss, he could not feel. 
 Yet he was stirred. To have death suddenly 
 sever even those ties which have become bonds 
 must bring recollections and regrets, and 
 these came to Paul, borne on a stream of deep 
 and tender pity. 
 
 The futility of Gertrude's life moved him 
 most that frantic, ostentatious search for a 
 happiness that lay within herself, if only she 
 could have realized the fact. Through every- 
 thing the clap-trap and tinsel of pleasure, 
 the envious demand for a tawdry prominence
 
 Severed Bonds 351 
 
 she had never been happy, he knew. Her 
 life had been one long, bitter struggle of self- 
 seeking. 
 
 Self-seeking! There lay the root of her 
 failure, for it is the law that he who gives 
 greatly of himself to life, in love and kindness 
 and sympathy, receives back tenfold what he 
 gives ; while he who demands all, as by divine 
 right, is denied in exact proportion to his 
 demands. Not only had Gertrude cheated 
 herself of happiness, but she had encompassed 
 her own death amid terrors and hardships. 
 
 That her nature had brought this about 
 with fatal certainty was self-evident. Had 
 she learned to deny herself he knew she would 
 have been alive today. But what might 
 that have meant to him? 
 
 In these hours of re-auditing the muddled 
 accounts of his life, he could not refuse the 
 thought of June admittance to his mind. 
 That fate had thrown her in contact with 
 Gertrude, seemed deeply significant. Frus- 
 trated in his own attempt to tell of his mar- 
 riage, had she learned of it through Gertrude?
 
 35 2 Star of the North 
 
 He believed that she had. There was a 
 consciousness of his relationship with June 
 in the very bitterness of her voice when 
 speaking of the Magregors. Besides, with 
 what other argument could she have forced 
 them to bring her south to Fort McLeod ? And 
 this being so, what effect would the revelation 
 have upon their future? A heavy uncer- 
 tainty took possession of him. Were all his 
 hopes and dreams to vanish even now? . . .
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 REQUIESCAT 
 
 HTEMPLE and Fleming Magregor, during 
 the little silence that followed the form- 
 er's words, regarded each other with deepened 
 mutual understanding. The factor lay on a 
 narrow camp-cot along one wall of his little 
 bedroom at Fort McLeod, with its jumble of 
 ledgers, arms, and hunting trophies, while 
 Paul stood before him, his head gravely bent. 
 Presently Magregor spoke: 
 
 "I was afraid, greatly afraid to leave Mrs. 
 Temple as we did," he said in a troubled 
 voice, "for I knew how our country sometimes 
 affects people left alone in it for the first time. 
 Oh," his fists clenched, "if it hadn't been for 
 this cursed leg !" 
 
 "Please!" Paul begged him. "You must 
 know I understand. Mrs. Temple made it 
 
 3 353
 
 354 Star of the North 
 
 quite clear to me before she died that you had 
 no choice in the matter, that she made you 
 leave her. " 
 
 The other shook his head slowly for a 
 moment. 
 
 " If she had only stuck it out where she was, 
 the men we sent would have found her by this 
 time!" he mourned. 
 
 Paul walked to the square, quarter-paned 
 window and stared musingly out. It was noon 
 and he had been at the Fort an hour. From 
 where he stood he could see his dogs, still 
 harnessed, lying in the snow before the door. 
 But his companions were not in sight, and the 
 sledge was empty, facts which, coupled with 
 sounds of invisible activity, told him that the 
 factor's orders were being obeyed; for Ma- 
 gregor, when he learned of Gertrude's death 
 news which Paul felt it his duty to leave as he 
 passed the Fort had taken subsequent events 
 into his own hands with gentle authority. 
 
 "No, don't go on," he had said. "Leave 
 Mrs. Temple's body here. We have a little 
 cemetery on the hill back of the Fort and she
 
 Requiescat 355 
 
 shall be buried there tomorrow. My only 
 son lies there," he added, simply. "A braw 
 lad he was." 
 
 Paul was very grateful. The thought of 
 going to the Graphic Camp with his burden 
 had filled him with repulsion, and yet there 
 had seemed no other way. New what re- 
 mained to be done would be done with 
 fitting dignity and taste. 
 
 He turned back from the window and walked 
 again to the foot of the bed. This man had 
 done much for him still more for Gertrude. 
 During this hour's difficult conversation he 
 had heard repeated the whole story of Ger- 
 trude's intercourse with the Magregors, and, 
 though glossed in every way, he had been 
 able to visualize completely the extent of its 
 tax upon them. Their heroic endurance and 
 loyalty had moved him deeply, and now he 
 felt that something was due this man. 
 
 "I don't quite know how to say this," he 
 
 began, haltingly. Then, after a pause: "I 
 
 didn't know Mrs. Temple was in the North 
 
 I didn't know where she was. In
 
 356 Star of the North 
 
 fact, for years Mrs. Temple and I have 
 seen nothing of each other " 
 
 The factor held up his hand. 
 
 " I quite understand. I felt sure there must 
 have been something like that. " 
 
 But Paul was not yet satisfied. Briefly 
 and simply he told what facts regarding his 
 past life and marriage he thought Magregor 
 had a right to know ordinary facts which, 
 after today, would be common property. 
 
 When he had finished the factor nodded 
 slowly once more, and, though he said nothing, 
 gave Paul a look of complete understanding. 
 A moment later he remarked in a different 
 tone: 
 
 11 It was good of ye to start north after us as 
 ye did. We heard of it the minute we arrived 
 night before last, and I needn't tell ye we're a' 
 verra grateful." 
 
 "I think you stood the trip wonderfully!" 
 Paul's admiration of the man's wiry endurance 
 was unbounded. 
 
 "Aweel, we're bred to it. All three of us 
 came through in good shape, but we've stayed
 
 Requiescat 357 
 
 abed and done nothing but eat ever since. 
 We'll be as good as ever in a day or two. " 
 
 There came a knock at the door, and upon 
 the factor's word old Maria entered to inquire 
 if she might use the big silver candlesticks at 
 the head and feet. Permission received, she 
 turned to Temple. 
 
 "Others go now," she said. 
 
 Paul had already heard the voices outside 
 the window, and the jingle of sleighbells as 
 the dogs got to their feet. When Maria had 
 gone he fastened his furs. 
 
 "The men will come early in the morning, " 
 he said. "Briscoe will see to that." 
 
 "By eight o'clock, or things won't be ready 
 at two, " warned Magregor. 
 
 Paul nodded and held out his hand. The 
 other took it in a warm, friendly pressure. 
 Thereafter Temple faced the inevitable' pub- 
 licity and exposure of the next twenty-four 
 hours, strengthened and comparatively at 
 peace. 
 
 It was a solemn scene when, at the appointed
 
 358 Star of the North 
 
 hour next day, the mourners gathered in a 
 semicircle about the yellow pine coffin and 
 the raw yellow gash in the snow-clad earth. 
 About the little graveyard whose fence 
 had long since disappeared, and whose crude 
 crosses and headstones were buried too, the 
 tall trees stood silent as if wise in their years 
 and aloof from all human manifestations, 
 having seen so many generations of men 
 come and go. Above was an inscrutable, 
 cold blue sky, and everywhere the domi- 
 nant colour motif was the white shroud of 
 winter. 
 
 There had been much to do. Briscoe and 
 half a score of the Graphics had toiled all 
 morning in the Jittle cemetery, first having 
 to thaw the iron earth with fire before they 
 could dig the grave. With them had come a 
 carpenter, the sound of whose hammer and 
 saw had echoed about the Fort clearing as he 
 laboured in the storehouse. 
 
 The remaining Graphics, after a desperate 
 sharing and piecing out of black Goldie 
 Burke had appeared triumphant in a hereto-
 
 Requiescat 359 
 
 fore unsuspected creation had walked down 
 to the Fort after the noon dinner. Events for 
 them had been too stunning, too bomb-like, 
 to permit of a full understanding and appreci- 
 ation; that would come later with full and 
 generous discussion. But several of the com- 
 pany had known Gertrude Mackay in New 
 York, and all of them had heard of her, and 
 the ready tears of her profession secured her 
 against an unwept grave. 
 
 Paul stood beside Briscoe in the front rank. 
 Facing them all, leaning heavily on crutches 
 and with a prayer-book in his hand, was 
 Magregor, risen from his bed for this event 
 even though it killed him. Rugged-featured, 
 gaunt, and grey, he seemed to typify the gran- 
 ite cheerlessness of his austere Scotch faith. 
 June hovered anxiously near him. 
 
 It was the first time since his return that 
 Paul had seen her, and he could note in face 
 and figure the effects of her protracted hard- 
 ships. They had met for a brief moment 
 in the house, and, searching her eyes, even as 
 he felt the frank and friendly pressure of her
 
 360 Star of the North 
 
 hand, he had found only kindliness and 
 welcome. . . . 
 
 Fleming Magregor cleared his throat and 
 straightened, and the last murmurous whisper- 
 ings ceased. Only a bright-eyed squirrel 
 chattering his impudent curiosity from a safe 
 tree-crotch broke the profound hush. Magre- 
 gor opened his book and found his place. The 
 solemn words broke upon the still, cold air.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 FACING FORWARD 
 
 GRAPHIC on this particular morn- 
 ing wore the general appearance usually 
 noted after the passage of a Kansas cyclone. 
 Doors and windows stood open to the falling 
 snow, Broadway was lined with debris, and at 
 the end of the street lay a hodge-podge 
 of merchandise. Everywhere people hurried 
 busily back and forth, voices were gay, and 
 there was much laughter. The sound of 
 hammering was constant. Camp Graphic 
 was packing up. 
 
 "I'm that excited, " confessed Goldie Burke 
 into the nearest open window, "I'm register- 
 ing ev'ry emotion in the calendar. If Briscoe 
 wants some Ai close-ups of Home Sweet 
 Home, this is his chance." 
 
 Mr. Gene Perkins, the melancholy camera 
 361
 
 362 Star of the North 
 
 man, who, in the process of changing his clothes 
 added a festive note to the dim interior with 
 his red flannel underwear, roared and leaped 
 for cover. He was the first to admit that the 
 prospect of departure made for a certain free- 
 masonry among all hands, but there were 
 limits. 
 
 "If you don't move on, there'll be a close- 
 up of Good-bye Broadway," he bawled, 
 reaching for a pillow. 
 
 She laughed merrily. 
 
 "Discovered! Eminent camera man as 
 September morn! Believe me, Gene, you're 
 some rosy sunrise!" 
 
 She hurried away laughing, followed by 
 a grunt and the missile. As a matter of fact, 
 Miss Burke was taking no chances today. 
 In the course of her long and cold exile, there 
 had spread through the camp an heretical 
 doubt as to whether, after all, she really was 
 or was not a blond. This morning laid that 
 question forever. She was a sunburst. 
 
 "Dearie," she told Miss Tanner as the 
 latter packed, "we go day after tomorra,
 
 Facing Forward 363 
 
 and if things don't move faster, I'll be eighty 
 by then." 
 
 "Well, what's a couple of years, more or 
 less, between friends, Goldie? This is the 
 age of tangoing grandmas, you know. " 
 
 Miss Tanner accepted the fact of the break- 
 up serenely now, and was reacting somewhat 
 to the all-pervasive air of gladness and holi- 
 day. 
 
 "Well, you little tabby!" gasped Miss 
 Burke. "I didn't know you had it in you. 
 But say, dearie, do you know, I'm goin' back 
 to my husband!" 
 
 "Your what?" 
 
 The other sat down aghast on the edge of 
 her bed. With gossip still at fever heat 
 over Temple's wife this would be too much. 
 
 "You heard me. I feel that excited and 
 strung up and trembly! Oh, he's the grandest 
 man, if he is old!" 
 
 "Who is?" 
 
 "My husband. You know him that old 
 guy with the square specs and the knee pants. 
 Sure, you know. Pa Knickerbocker. Blooey-
 
 364 Star of the North 
 
 blooey, darling! Remember, you would have 
 it!" 
 
 She departed, crowing over the other's 
 disgusted chagrin. Five minutes later she 
 almost ran into Jack Baillie on Broadway, 
 who, bent beneath a load of belongings, was 
 headed for the supply depot at the end of the 
 street. 
 
 "Hullo, infant! Say, what's the scheme of 
 this riot anyway?" 
 
 He scowled at her familiarity, but swung 
 down his heavy pack. Then as he wiped his 
 brow he explained. The hundred miles to 
 civilization were to be covered on foot by the 
 entire Graphic party, a comparatively simple 
 matter since they would merely follow the 
 frozen Onipee River south to the point where 
 it touched the railroad. Briscoe counted 
 on doing the distance in less than a week. 
 The question of transporting baggage had been 
 solved in two ways. 
 
 One of the big river scows had been set on 
 runners, and in this would be carried such 
 supplies, props, costumes, and clothes as the
 
 Facing Forward 365 
 
 company could not spare. At the same time 
 all the trunks would be stacked in the prop 
 shanty until spring when Fleming Magregor 
 would send them up the river to the railroad. 
 By this scheme Briscoe was remedying as best 
 he could his one error of judgment in permit- 
 ting his people to bring such a quantity of 
 personal luggage. At the time of coming 
 north, with open water and down-stream 
 navigation, it had been an easy matter to 
 freight it all to camp. But now there were 
 not dogs enough to haul it back. 
 
 Miss Burke listened respectfully and asked 
 intelligent questions. Baillie visibly expanded. 
 
 "By the way," inquired the lady mildly as 
 he paused, ''what do you stick around here 
 workin' all the time for? You're young. You 
 ought to have some pleasure in life. Why don't 
 you go down to the Fort and spark that girl? " 
 
 Baillie, taken off his guard, whirled upon 
 her. Would they never quit baiting him 
 about that business? 
 
 "Her! "he sneered. "I'd as soon think of 
 sparking you!"
 
 366 Star of the North 
 
 Miss Burke simpered and gave him a kitten- 
 ish push. 
 
 "Oh, Jack, this is so sudden!" she said, and 
 ran laughing down the street. 
 
 Baillie cursed after her fervently. Why 
 were they always raking up that affair, when 
 he cared no more than the snap of his finger 
 for the girl? Why, he wouldn't have her as 
 a gift! 
 
 His affair had indeed reached a very definite 
 ending during the three days since Gertrude 
 Temple's funeral. No one had known of it 
 but himself, for there had been no questions 
 asked when, one afternoon, he opened the 
 door of the bunkhouse stove and tossed into 
 the flames a crumpled letter that events had 
 rendered useless even for revenge. His only 
 desire now was to get back to New York and 
 be rid of this rotten crowd. 
 
 Swinging his load up again he went on. 
 Near the sleigh-boat which some of the men 
 were packing, he sawGoldie Burke talking to 
 Paul Temple who was grinning broadly. All 
 about him through the curtain of falling snow
 
 Facing Forward 367 
 
 people were shouting or laughing with the 
 joy of release, like children out of school. 
 
 "Damn it!" he growled. "If there's any- 
 thing I hate, it's to hear people laughing for no 
 reason on earth!" 
 
 Through all this activity of preparation one 
 dominant figure was missing. Tom Briscoe, 
 having seen things well under way, had disap- 
 peared. Not one in twenty of his people would 
 have guessed him to be in the living room at 
 Fort McLeod, in solemn conclave with Flem- 
 ing Magregor and June. Yet there he was, 
 and for an hour they had been discussing 
 the renewal of his offer to take June south 
 with him and make her a personage. 
 
 This offer was not unknown to the factor, for 
 the girl had told him of it during one of the 
 long talks they had had since their return to 
 Fort McLeod. He was in a way prepared to 
 meet the crisis, but now the three had reached 
 a deadlock in the discussion. 
 
 "Of course I should like to go, and it would 
 be a wonderful opportunity, " June was saying 
 quietly to Briscoe, "but just now it's impos-
 
 368 Star of the North 
 
 sible. I will not leave my father." She 
 glanced affectionately at the older man, who 
 sat fully dressed in a great chair near the fire, 
 his leg pillowed straight before him. "We 
 have always lived together, and now when he 
 is almost helpless, it's out of the question to 
 ask me to go." 
 
 The factor smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "Ah, ye're a gude lass," he said, tenderly, 
 "but I can't agree. It would be wrong of ye 
 to stay, and worse of me to let ye. The 
 world's aye different with us than it was four 
 months ago. Then ye knew nothin' but the 
 spring fishin', and the fall huntin', the brigades, 
 and the traps. But that's gone now, and ye 
 could never find happiness in it again. The 
 world's called ye, and ye must go to it. " 
 
 She made as if to speak, but he held up his 
 hand. Briscoe, wise in silence, was studying 
 the girl with the keen eyes of appraisal. He 
 saw in her face what Paul had already seen 
 there, the woman look, in contrast to the un- 
 troubled girlishness of their first meetings. 
 "She's lived," thought the director.
 
 Facing Forward 369 
 
 "What wad your life be if ye stayed here, 
 my dear?" insisted the factor. "Ye'd be 
 verra lonely. An' what could ye luke for- 
 ward to? Takin' care of me all your life? I 
 wouldna let ye. Ye might marry some 
 decent white trader" Briscoe saw June's 
 hands tighten suddenly "but wad ye be 
 content after what Mr. Briscoe has offered? 
 Na, ye wouldna, lassie! Ye're educated 
 and ye're a lady. Your opportunity has 
 come an' I want ye to take it. We'll both 
 be happier so. " 
 
 It was a long speech for Magregor, a fact 
 which showed him to be deeply moved. For 
 several minutes after he ceased speaking there 
 was silence in the room, except for the crack- 
 ling of the birch logs and the comfortable tick 
 of the old clock on the mantelpiece. Then 
 June replied. 
 
 "I can't do it, father," she said, with low 
 finality. "I could never forgive myself if I 
 left you to spend the rest of your days here 
 alone. And furthermore, I don't want to do 
 it. It would spoil any happiness I might
 
 370 Star of the North 
 
 find away from you. That's my decision and 
 you can't change me. " 
 
 A slow smile broke over the factor's face 
 as he pressed into the bowl of his pipe the 
 tobacco he had been shaving from a plug. 
 Briscoe, uneasy now, squirmed in his chair 
 restraining with an effort an almost uncontrol- 
 lable impulse to leap to his feet and ramp up 
 and down the room, erupting arguments that 
 would crush all opposition. But reason told 
 him that such a course here would only insure 
 failure. He had made his plea and painted 
 his allurements earlier. Fate must take its 
 course. 
 
 Magregor lit his pipe, a deliberate and 
 artistic proceeding with him. 
 
 "Since ye've said that, now I'll tell ye 
 something, " he smiled, his head surrounded by 
 a nimbus of smoke. ' ' I've never yet explained 
 why the Commissioner sent for me to come 
 to Moose Factory, have I?" 
 
 "No." She shook her head. In the con- 
 fusion of events following that trip she had 
 entirely forgotten its purpose.
 
 Facing Forward 371 
 
 "Well, he told me that after this winter the 
 Company intended to discontinue Fort Mc- 
 Leod. Every winter the fur line moves far- 
 ther north, and we've been out of it now for 
 two years. I've seen this coming, and I sus- 
 pected he would tell me what he did. " 
 
 He puffed again in silence for a moment. 
 
 "Mr. Durfree was verra gude to me," he 
 went on, "I might say flatterin'. He offered 
 me the post at Independence." He paused 
 to let the honour sink in. "But I refused it. " 
 
 "Refused it!" 
 
 "Yes. I'm gettin' old, lassie. I've served 
 the Company thirty-five years, and I'm tired. 
 I've saved my pay, and Durfree has in vested 
 most of it for me every year, so I've enough 
 to keep me the rest of my life. " 
 
 The girl was silent a long while, staring at 
 the floor. 
 
 "And you, what will you do stay here?" 
 
 "Till spring, yes. The Indians will take 
 care of me, and by that time this old leg will be 
 gude as ever. That damage on the trip down 
 wasn't verra serious and will only set me back
 
 37 2 Star of the North 
 
 a bit. Once I've cleared up matters here and 
 closed the post, I'll come south in the barge 
 with Mr. Briscoe's baggage and join ye wher- 
 ever ye are. Now lassie, will ye go? " 
 
 Without replying the girl rose to her feet 
 and went to him, placing her hand affection- 
 ately on his shoulder. His arm went round her 
 and his hand patted her gently. The next 
 minute she turned tear-filled eyes upon the 
 director. 
 
 "I'll go, "she said. 
 
 Briscoe cannoned out of his chair and strode 
 to the centre-table, tugging at a long, folded 
 paper in his inside pocket. 
 
 "Fine! Great!" he shouted, expressing thus 
 the immensity of his relief. "Here's your 
 contract, Miss Magregor. Sign along the 
 dotted line, and be ready to go day after 
 tomorrow!" 
 
 When the formalities had been concluded 
 Briscoe prepared to go. At the door he turned 
 to his prospective star. 
 
 "Temple asked me to say that he'd drop 
 down this afternoon to see you, " he admitted,
 
 Facing Forward 373 
 
 unwillingly, and studied her face. What he 
 saw there during the fraction of an instant 
 sent him away cursing "this love business" 
 as he had never cursed it before. 
 
 At half -past two Temple stopped packing 
 and, strapping on his snow-shoes, started down 
 the well-remembered river trail. It was 
 his first visit to the Fort since Gertrude's 
 funeral. The snow of the morning was still 
 falling, borne on a gusty, biting north wind 
 and the pile of goods at the end of Broadway 
 was well-covered. 
 
 The landscape was dreary; overhead a dull, 
 grey sky, to the left a white expanse of river, 
 frozen solid now; snowy bluffs opposite, 
 surmounted by the endless black and white 
 forest, and closer about him the dark greens 
 and browns of the trees. It had looked so, he 
 remembered, on another day when he had 
 taken this walk the day they had learned of 
 Fleming Magregor's injury. 
 
 Now too, as then, his happiness hung upon 
 this journey, but today he went without the
 
 374 Star of the North 
 
 youthful fears and palpitations of the earlier 
 occasion. Life since then had cost him so 
 much in feeling that he held himself under 
 strong leash. 
 
 In response to his knock at the Fort, June 
 herself opened the door and, seeing him, held 
 out both hands in genuine glad welcome. 
 Her soft, dark eyes were bright and a faint 
 colour glowed in her cheeks. Paul noticed 
 that she wore a blue woollen dress, and that 
 her hair was piled on top of her head, leaving 
 little curly tendrils in front of her ears and at 
 the back of her neck. 
 
 She led the way to the living room, maintain- 
 ing as she went a gay and ceaseless chatter. 
 It reminded him of the childlike garrulity of 
 earlier days, and he smiled with swift tender- 
 ness. But when she had seated herself the 
 smile left him. 
 
 "June," he said, coming straight to the 
 point as he stood looking down at her, "the 
 time has come for you and me to understand 
 each other. " She met his gaze fairly. " The 
 last time I came to see you here, I came to tell
 
 Facing Forward 375 
 
 you what you know now that I was married. 
 Before I could do it, Jim Albert arrived with 
 the news of your father's injury, and I never 
 got another chance." 
 
 "You came to tell me that day!" she said, 
 thoughtfully. "I've often wondered if that 
 was why you came. " 
 
 "You have!" His voice was grateful. 
 "I might have known it. It was like you to 
 grant me that trust. " 
 
 "But why did you wait until then to tell 
 me?" 
 
 She spoke quietly, but her eyes met his with 
 clear and serious questioning. He wondered 
 how often she had asked herself that question 
 since she had learned the truth. 
 
 "That is what I have come to tell you 
 today." He watched her anxiously, his 
 troubled, sensitive face bent. "When we 
 first met," he went on, "I didn't tell you, 
 because that was something I told nobody. 
 It was purely a matter of business with me, 
 and with Mrs. Temple also a common enough 
 thing in our profession. Then, when I knew
 
 376 Star of the North 
 
 that I loved you, there was Baillie, and I didn't 
 dare tell you." 
 
 "Didn't dare tell me!" 
 
 He sat down in a nearby chair and leaned 
 towards her earnestly. 
 
 " No. Because I was so afraid of him for 
 you. June, at that time when we had first 
 come north, you weren't the woman you are 
 now. You were just a girl who had dreamed of 
 people like us and of the life we represented." 
 
 She lowered her eyes and a slow flush cov- 
 ered her face. She was beginning to under- 
 stand now. How plain her girlish infatuation 
 for Baillie must have been! 
 
 "I kept silent then," he went on, "because 
 I knew I had to fight him for you. " 
 
 She made no reply. A gust of wind roared 
 through the forest and thuttered in the 
 chimney. 
 
 "If I had told you I was married," he said 
 presently, "you would have immediately put 
 me out of your thoughts. And what opposi- 
 tion would Baillie have had then? Oh, don't 
 you see! I had to fight him with something.
 
 Facing Forward 377 
 
 ... I knew he would defeat himself if he only 
 had time enough, but I had to do something to 
 hold him off until he did. That is the reason 
 I told you I loved you then, though God knows 
 it was the truth!" 
 
 Moment by moment she saw more clearly; 
 her perplexities unravelled like a knotted 
 string when the key strand is pulled. 
 
 "And everything happened just as you 
 knew it would," she said slowly, "and oh, 
 when I realized how small he was ! . . . 
 For awhile I didn't want to live. Not because 
 of him, but because it seemed as if nothing 
 was good or true. " 
 
 "I know," he replied gently, "and that's 
 why I stayed away so long then. Because 
 I knew what you were going through, and I 
 was afraid of myself afraid I wouldn't have 
 the strength to keep control and say the things 
 I must if I came." 
 
 She saw it all now, how, in every step of 
 their relationship he had sought, despite the 
 cost, to do the honourable thing; not without 
 struggle, for he was human, but with eventual
 
 378 Star of the North 
 
 triumph. And tears filled her eyes. She 
 rose suddenly and turned away from him so 
 that he could not see. 
 
 He, too, got to his feet. 
 
 "And that's all," he said, wearily. "Can 
 you forgive me? Can you have any faith 
 in me?" 
 
 She turned back to him swiftly, careless now 
 of her wet eyes. 
 
 "Any faith!" she cried, her voice thrilling 
 as he had never heard it. ' ' Oh, Paul ! Except 
 for one awful day the day I first learned 
 I've never doubted for a moment. How could 
 I doubt, when through everything you have 
 been the one person that stood to me for hon- 
 our, and the goodness and truth of life. I 
 felt, I knew that in this you couldn't have 
 done wrong, that behind it all was some good 
 reason. And now you've proved it true, just 
 as I knew you would!" 
 
 She stood transfigured, and he looking deep 
 into her eyes, down to her very soul knew 
 then that all he had hoped and dreamed of 
 love had come to pass. A little sound broke
 
 Facing Forward 379 
 
 from him, a sound of awed wonder, and he 
 caught his breath. Then he stepped towards 
 her with outstretched arms. 
 
 "June! Oh, my beloved!" he called, and 
 she with eyes like stars, came to him gladly, 
 radiant in the proud humility of surrender. 
 
 Their lips met, and, in that exquisite 
 moment, were swept aside all the doubts and 
 fears of their long desire. The futile past 
 became only as an evil dream, and they faced 
 forward together, eager for the new life that 
 opened to them, so glorious and full of promise. 
 
 THE END
 
 Children 
 of Banishment 
 
 {By Francis William Sullivan 
 
 V 
 
 12. $1.35 net 
 
 A tale of the northern woods that breathes 
 the true atmosphere of the lumber camp, 
 draws a vivid picture of the subjugation of the 
 great forests and the thrilling " drive " of the 
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 the treachery of the man to whom he has en- 
 trusted the fulfillment of his life's ambition, 
 and just in time to avert disaster. Yet redress 
 he must forego, for the man who has attempted 
 to wrong him is the husband of the woman 
 he loves. Out of this antagonism of interests 
 the author has developed a love story that is 
 full of capital dramatic situations, that opens 
 up many unexpected developments, and that 
 proceeds to an impressive and satisfying 
 climax. 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
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 by chance the awful part that he had played 
 in her life, and the story is the story of his 
 conduct under the trying conditions of this 
 discovery, of the resolution he formed, the 
 promise he made, and the way his actions, 
 dictated by fear and affection, influenced the 
 woman he loved. 
 
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 tyrannous affection that demands, from the 
 daughter whom she loves, a singleness of de- 
 votion to the exclusion of everyone else. The 
 daughter's fancy is in time" caught in the 
 meshes of love, and the clandestine expression 
 of her attachment, which the circumstances 
 demand, involves developments of far-reach- 
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 scene is in part England, in part Egypt the 
 haunting, glowing, throbbing Egypt that the 
 author has again made so real. 
 
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 The Promise 
 
 A Tale of the Great Northwest and of a 
 Man Who Kept His Word 
 
 By 
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 12. Picture Wrapper. $135 net 
 
 A tale of a strong man's regeneration of 
 the transformation of " Broadway Bill " 
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