by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XI THE GIRL OF THE PURPLE FLAME
There is something in the sharp tang of the Arctic air, in the honestweariness of a long day of tramping, in the invigorating freshness ofeverything about one, that makes for perfect repose. In spite of theproblems that faced them, regardless of the mystery that haunted thischamber of nature, hour after hour, to the very tune of the whirlingstorm, the girls slept the calm and peaceful sleep of those who bear illwill toward no one.
When at last Marian pried her eyes open to look at her watch, she wassurprised to learn that eight hours had passed. She did not look to seethe gleam of dawn at the mouth of the cave. Dawn in this strange Arcticland was still four hours away.
She knew that the storm was still raging. There came the roar and boom ofthe wind. Now and again, as if the demons of storm were determined uponpulling them from their retreat, a steady sucking breath of it camesweeping down through the cave. Marian listened, and then she quoted:
"'Blow high, blow low, Not all your snow Can quench our hearth-fire's Ruddy glow.'"
She smiled to herself. Their tiny fire had gone out long ago, but anothermight easily be kindled.
She was about to turn over in her bed for another ten winks, when shesuddenly remembered the mysterious discovery of the night before--theashes and the bones, and at once she found herself eager for anexploration of the place. To discover if possible what sort of people hadbeen here before her; to guess how long ago that had been; to search forany relics they may have left behind--all these exerted upon her mind anirresistible appeal.
She had risen and was drawing on her knickers when Attatak awakened.
"Come on," Marian cried, "it is morning. The storm is still tearing awayat the mountain side. We can't go on our way. We--"
"_Eleet-pon-a-muck!_" (too bad), broke in Attatak. "Now Bill Scarberrywill get our pasture. The Agent will pass before we arrive. We shall haveno one to defend our herd."
At this Marian plumped down upon her sleeping bag. What Attatak said wastrue. Should they be unable to leave the cave this day, the gain they hadhoped to make was lost.
"Well," she laughed bravely, "we have reindeer, and they are swift. Wewill win yet."
"Anyway," she said, springing to her feet, "no use crying over spilledmilk. Until we can leave the cave our time's our own. Come on. Getdressed. We'll see what wealth lies hidden in this old home in themountain side."
In the meantime Patsy was having a full share of strange adventure. Latein the afternoon, feeling herself quite free from the annoying presenceof the visiting band of Eskimos and of Scarberry's herd, she harnessedher favorite spotted reindeer and went for a drive up the valley. The twoyoung Eskimos who worked under Terogloona had been sent into the hills toround up their herd and bring them into camp. This was one of the dailytasks of the herders. If this was done every day the herd would neverstray too far. Patsy liked to mount a hill with her sled deer and then,like a general reviewing his troops, watch the broad procession of brownand white deer as they marched down the valley.
This day she was a little late. The herd began passing before she hadclimbed half way up the ridge. She paused to watch them pass. Then,undecided whether to climb on up the slope or turn back to camp, shestood there until the uncertain light of the low Arctic sun had faded andnight had come. Just as she had decided to turn her deer toward home, shecaught a purple gleam on the hill directly above her.
"The purple flame!" she exclaimed. "And not a quarter of a mile above me.I could climb up there in fifteen minutes."
For a moment she stood undecided. Then, seized by a sudden touch ofdaring, she whirled her deer about, tethered him to his sled, and wentscouting up a gully toward the spot where the mysterious flame hadflashed for a moment, then had gone out.
"I'll see something, anyway," she told herself as she strove in vain tostill the painful fluttering of her heart.
She had worked her way to a position on the side of the hill where theoutlines of a tent, with its extension of stovepipe standing out blackabove it, was outlined against the sky. Then, to her consternation, shesaw the flaps of the tent move.
"Someone is coming out," she whispered to herself. "Perhaps they havebeen watching me through a hole in the tent. Perhaps--"
Her heart stopped beating at thought of the dangers that might bethreatening. Should she turn and flee, or should she flatten herselfagainst the snow and hope that she might not be seen? Suddenlyremembering that her parka, made of white fawnskin, would blend perfectlywith the snow, she decided on the latter course.
There was not a second to lose. Hardly had she melted into the backgroundof snow when a person appeared at the entrance of the tent.
Then it was that Patsy received a thrilling shock. She had been preparedto see a bearded miner, an Eskimo, most any type of man. But the personshe saw was not a man, but _a woman_; scarcely that--little more than agirl.
It was with the utmost difficulty that Patsy suppressed an audibleexclamation. Closing her lips tight, she took one startled look at thestrange girl.
Carefully dressed in short plaid skirt, bright checkered mackinaw, and ablue knit hood; the girl stood perfectly silhouetted against the sky. Hereyes and hair were brown; Patsy was sure of that. Her features were fine.There was a deep shade of healthy pink in her cheeks.
"She's not a native Alaskan," Patsy told herself. "Like me, she has notbeen long in Alaska."
How she knew this she could not exactly tell, but she was as sure of itas she was of anything in life. Suddenly she was puzzled by a question:"What had brought the girl from the warmth of the tent into the cold?"
Patsy saw her glance up toward the sky. There was a rapt look on her faceas she gazed fixedly at the first evening stars.
"It's as if she were saying a prayer or a Psalm," Patsy murmured. "'Theheavens declare the glory of God and the firmament his handiwork.'"
For a full moment the strange girl stood thus; then, turning slowly, shestepped back into the tent. That the tent had at least one otheroccupant, Patsy knew at once by a shadow that flitted across the wall asthe girl entered.
"Well," mused Patsy. "Well, now, I wonder?"
She was more puzzled than ever, but suddenly remembering that she hadbarely escaped being caught spying on these strangers, she rose and wentgliding down the hill.
When she reached her reindeer she loosed him and turned him toward home,nor did she allow him to pause until he stood beside her igloo.
Once inside her lodge, with the candle gleaming brightly and a fire ofdry willows snapping in the sheet-iron stove, Patsy took a good long timefor thinking things through.
Somewhat to her surprise, she found herself experiencing a new feeling ofsafety. It was true she had not been much afraid since Marian had lefther alone with the herders, for it was but a step from her igloo toTerogloona's tent. This old herder, who treated her as if she were hisgrandchild, would gladly give his life in defending her from danger.Nevertheless, a little feeling of fear lingered in her mind whenever shethought of the tent of the purple flame. As she thought of it now sherealized that she had lost that fear when she had discovered that therewas a girl living in that tent.
"And yet," she told herself, "there are bad women in Alaska just as thereare everywhere. She might be bad, but somehow she didn't look bad. Shelooked educated and sort of refined and--and--she looked a bit lonely asshe stood there gazing at the stars. I wanted to walk right up to her andsay 'Hello!' just like that, nice and chummy. Perhaps I will, too, someday.
"And perhaps I won't," she thoughtfully added a moment later. Somethingof the old dread of the purple flame still haunted her mind. Then, too,there were two puzzling questions: Why were these people here at all; andhow did they live, if not off Marian's deer?
Not many days later Patsy was to make a startling discovery that, to allappearances, was an answer to this last question.
