Glen of the High North

by H. A. Cody

  CHAPTER IV

  BEYOND THE GREAT WHITE PASS

  "All aboard!"

  The train was on the point of pulling out from the little coast town ofSkagway on its run inland of one hundred and ten miles. There had beenmuch bustle and excitement ever since the steamer landed early thatmorning. But now everything was in readiness, the signal had beengiven, and the train began to move.

  Reynolds was comfortably seated and looking out of the open window,when Frontier Samson came and sat down by his side. The old prospectorwas much out of breath and panting heavily.

  "I nearly missed the train," he explained. "She was movin' when Iswung on board."

  "Sight-seeing, eh?" Reynolds queried.

  "That's about it, I guess. Watchin' a mix-up, an' gittin' Curly out ofa scrape. That's what delayed me."

  "What was the trouble?"

  "Oh, the same old story. Curly kin never mind his own bizness. He'sallus pokin' his nose into other people's affairs. He's too sassy."

  "Where is he now?"

  "In the smoker. I had to drag him along with me, an' that's what mademe late."

  "Why didn't you leave him behind?"

  "I should have done that. But it's the Brotherhood, ye see, that mademe do it. That feller ain't safe runnin' at large, an' somebody's gotto keep an eye on him, 'specially up here."

  "It seems to me that you have undertaken a big task," and Reynoldssmiled.

  "Indeed I have an' no one knows that better'n me. If I had my way,he'd be shipped off to some Penitentiary. That's the right place forthe likes of him. An' he'll land thar some day, as sure as guns. Butin the meantime somebody's got to watch him."

  Reynolds made no reply. In fact, he hardly heard his companion's lastwords, for his eyes were riveted upon the wonderful sights around him.Above towered the peaks of the White Pass Range, grand and majestic.Away to the left, and far above, could be seen the railway track,twisting along the mountain side like a thin dark thread. It seemedincredible that the train could make such a tremendous climb.

  "Do we go up there?" he asked in amazement.

  "Sure. We'll be thar in a short time, but it takes four engines,though, to tug us up. Then ye'll see something that'll make ye wonder.Guess thar's nuthin' like it in the hull world. We'll go up threethousand feet, an' it'll be the nearest to heaven that some of thechaps on this train'll ever be. Jist look at that, now!"

  Reynolds was indeed looking. Far down below a few cabins appeared likelittle toy houses, while away beyond could be seen the blue cold watersof the North Pacific. The air was becoming keen. But it was bracingand stimulating.

  "Say, I'd like to paint that!" he mused half aloud. "It is grand,stupendous, appalling! And what a work to build this road! How was itever done!"

  "It sartinly was, young man. It cost a mint of money, to say nuthin'of the lives sacrificed. Thar was some mighty bad accidents on thisbit of road, though thar was some funny ones, too. I often have a goodlaugh to meself whenever I think of one of the stories that was told."

  "What was it?" Reynolds asked. He was interested in everything now.

  "Wall, ye see, the company that built this road was considered mightymean, an' ground the men down to the last cent. One day a big blastwent off before its time, an' a feller was blown high into the air.Everybody thought fer sure that thar wouldn't be a speck of him left.But strange to say, in about fifteen minutes he came down pat on hisfeet, an' but fer a few bruises an' a bad shakin' up he was as chipperas ye please. He got another shock, though, at the end of the weekwhich nearly put him out of bizness."

  The old man paused, and a smile overspread his face as he gazedthoughtfully out of the window.

  "Yes," he continued, "it sartinly was some shock, an' no mistake. Whenhe went to the office to be paid fer his week's work, he found that thecompany had docked him two-bits fer the fifteen minutes he was absenton that air-trip when the blast went off. Now, what d'ye think ofthat?"

  "Close shaving, I should say," was the reply. "It's a good yarn,though, and worth remembering. But, my, isn't that a wonderful sight!"And Reynolds motioned to the great mountains away in the distance. "Weseem to be surrounded by them."

  "So we are, young man. Ye can't escape 'em in the north any more'n yekin git clear of the sky-scrapers in New York. But them over thar arethe work of the Almighty, an' a grand job He made of 'em. This hullland reminds me of a big cathedral; the woods an' valleys are theaisles, an' the mountains are the spires pointin' man to heaven. Itell ye, it's a great place out alone on the hills to worship. Yer notcramped thar, an' it doesn't matter what kind of clothes ye have on.It's wonderful the sights ye see an' the things ye hear. Talk aboutmusic! Why, ye have the finest in the world when nature's big organgits to work, 'specially at night. I've shivered from head to toe whenthe wind was rippin' an' roarin' through the woods, down the valleys,an' along the mountain passes. That's the music fer me!"

  "You seem to love this country," Reynolds remarked, as he noted theintense admiration upon his companion's face.

  "I sartinly do, young man. It grips me jist as soon as I cross thisrange. Thar's nuthin' like it to my way of thinkin', though it takesye years to find it out. Yet, it doesn't altogether satisfy the soul,although it helps. Thar's something within a man that needs more'n themountains an' the wonderful things around him. But, thar, I must seewhat Curly's doin'. He may be up to some more mischief."

  Although Reynolds was much interested in the scenery and in listeningto the philosophy of the old prospector, yet his mind turnedcontinually to Glen, for it was by that name he now thought of her. Heknew that she was on the train, for he had seen her as she steppedaboard but a few minutes before it left the coast. She had passedclose to where he was standing, carrying a grip in her hand. He hadcaught sight of the leather tag fastened to the handle of the grip, andhad strained his eyes in a futile effort to read the name writtenthereon. He was determined in some manner to find out what that namewas, as he feared lest he should lose her altogether when the journeyby rail was ended. He must have something more definite than the oneword Glen.

  This opportunity was afforded him when he entered the principal hotelof the little town of Whitehorse at the terminus of the railway. Itwas just across the street from the station, and when he arrived at theoffice she was there before him, and about to enter her name in thehotel register. He stood by her side and watched her write. It was afirm sun-browned hand that held the pen, and she wrote in a rapidbusiness-like way. "Glen Weston" were the only words Reynolds sawthere as he wrote his own name a minute later below hers. She had noteven mentioned where she was from--that space was left blank. He alsonoticed that the hotel clerk seemed to know who she was, for he wasmore affable to her than to anyone else. She asked him if her fatherhad yet arrived, and she appeared disappointed when he answered in thenegative.

  The name "Glen Weston" kept running through Reynolds' mind all thatevening. He liked it, and it suited her admirably, so he thought. Butwho was she, and where was she going? That was what he wished to know.

  The town of Whitehorse was of considerable interest to Reynolds as hestrolled that evening through its various streets. It was a surpriseto him as well, for he had not expected to find such a settledcommunity. He had imagined that all such towns in the north were wildand almost lawless places, abounding in desperate characters, ready toshoot on the slightest provocation. But here all was order, and it waslittle different from one of the many small conventional towns inEastern Canada. There were several up-to-date stores, a large postoffice, bank, churches, and comfortable dwelling houses, though many ofthe latter were built of logs. The Royal Northwest Mounted Police hadtheir large barracks at the rear of the town under the brow of a highhill, where all day long the flag of the clustered crosses floated fromits tall white staff in the centre of the square.

  It was the time of year when the light of day reaches far into thenight, and deep darkness is unknown. The sun merely di
ps for a fewhours below the mountain Crests, and skims along the horizon, thusilluminating the western sky, and holding back the heavy draperies ofnight. The light on the far-off ranges and the glory of the distantheavens fascinated Reynolds. He had beheld many beautiful sunsets, butnever such a one as this, and his entire soul was stirred within him.

  Leaving the level of the town, he climbed the hill, and there on theedge of the steep bank he feasted his eyes upon the wonderful panoramastretched out before him. Like a silver thread the river wound itssinuous way between its steep banks, and faded from view amidst itssetting of dark firs and jack-pines; around rose the mountains, theirgreat sides either bathed in the glow of evening, or lying sombre andgrim, telling of crouching valleys and funnel-like draws from which thelight of day had retreated. And below lay the little town, silent savefor the occasional bark of a dog, or the shrill voices of children awayto the right.

  For some time Reynolds remained here. He was in no hurry to goelsewhere, for the evening was mild and conducive to thought. Therewas nothing to take him back to the hotel, and he preferred to be outof doors. Just what he was to do next he had no clear idea. He knewthat somewhere out from this town was the new mining camp for which hehad started. But where it was and how to reach it he had not thefaintest knowledge. In truth, he had never been sufficientlyinterested to make any inquiries, even from Frontier Samson. What hadbecome of the prospector, he wondered, as he had not seen him since hisarrival in town. And where was Glen? He had followed her this far,and was he to lose her after all? She had aroused him to action, andcaused him to take this long and apparently foolish journey. But hehad not spoken a word to her, and so far as he knew she was totallyunaware of his existence. He smiled at the thought, and wondered whathis friend, the editor, would say if he knew of it. And what about hissearch for the missing man, Henry Redmond? Instead of throwing himselfearnestly and actively into the quest he was frittering away his time,following the will-o'-the-wisp of a fancy, and going daft over a mereslip of a girl who moved serenely apart from his world of thought andbeing. He called himself a fool and chided himself over and overagain. But for all that, he was unable to tear her out of his heartand mind. She seemed to belong to him, and to no one else.

  "I believe that my experiences in France have affected my brain," hemuttered, as he at length rose to his feet. "I am sure I was not likethis before the war. But here I am now dazzled and mystified by a fairface, a pair of sparkling eyes, and the charm of a name. This willnever do. I must shake off this fascination, or I shall be good fornothing."

  He walked rapidly down the hill, and then along a trail that woundthrough a thicket of small fir trees. This brought him in a fewminutes to one of the streets leading straight to the river. He walkedslower now, much interested in the quaint log houses, with here andthere a miner's or a prospector's tent. Presently he saw before him alarge building, with galvanized roof and sides. People were enteringthe place, and drawing nearer, the sound of music fell upon his ears.A band was playing, he could easily tell, and it was dancing music atthat.

  Reaching the building, Reynolds paused and listened. The music wasgood, the best he had heard in a long time. Through an open door hecould see men playing billiards and pool. It was a lively and anattractive scene, which caused him to enter and stand for a while nearthe door watching the games. No one paid any attention to him, andfrom what he observed there were others like himself, strangers, whofound the time hanging heavily on their hands, and had dropped into theplace for the sake of companionship. There were several large tables,and these were all occupied by eager players. Nearby was a bar, wheredrinks of various kinds were being served. The room was brilliantlylighted by electricity, and the whole atmosphere of the place was mostcongenial.

  At one end of the billiard room were two doors, and here a number ofpeople were standing watching the dancing that was going on in the mainpart of the building. Reynolds presently joined them, and he wasgreatly surprised at the size of the room, and the number of peopleupon the floor. There was a gallery immediately overhead, and here theband was placed.

  For a few minutes Reynolds stood and watched the dancers in a somewhatindifferent manner. He learned from a man standing by his side thatthis building belonged to a town club, and that such dances were notuncommon, at which most of the people attended.

  At first Reynolds could not recognize anyone he knew, but as hewatched, he gave a great start, for there but a short distance away wasGlen, and her partner was none other than the rascal, Curly. He couldhardly believe his eyes, and he followed them most intently as theymoved about the room. He felt certain now that Glen was the girlmentioned by Curly on the steamer in his conversation with FrontierSamson. He had found her, and was it to her liking? he wondered. Herecalled her pale face and agitated manner as Curly boarded the vesselalong the coast. Was he the cause of her distress, or was it someoneelse? It seemed then as if she wished to keep clear of the fellow, andher seclusion during the remainder of the voyage lent color to thisidea. But here she was dancing with him, and apparently enjoyingherself. All this puzzled Reynolds as he stood there, unheedingeverything else save those special two.

  When the music ceased, Glen and Curly walked across the room and satdown but a short distance from the door. Reynolds could see the girl'sface most plainly now, and he could tell at a glance that she wasunhappy. Curly, on the other hand, was very animated and did all ofthe talking. He was speaking in a low voice and seemed very much inearnest. Occasionally the girl shook her head, and looked uneasilyaround as if fearful lest someone should overhear what was being said.At length, however, as she glanced to her right, her face brightened,and the light of joy leaped into her eyes. Reynolds also turned hishead, and he was surprised to see, standing not far away, a tall andpowerfully-built Indian. Where he had come from Reynolds had not theleast idea, but there he was, clad in a soft buckskin suit, motionless,and heeding no one except the young girl sitting by Curly's side. Hisplacid face relaxed a little, however, as Glen moved swiftly to wherehe was standing and spoke to him in a low voice. The Indian merelynodded in reply, and without even glancing around upon the curiouswatchers in the room, he at once followed the girl as she passed out ofthe building through a side door which opened upon the street.