The Silver Horde. Rex Beach

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      Again Fraser evaded the issue. "Now, if this Marsh is going after you in earnest this summer, why don't you let me stick around here till spring and look-out your game? I'll drop a monkey-wrench in his gear-case or put a spider in his dumpling; and it's more than an even shot that if him and I got to know each other right well, I'd own his cannery before fall."

      "Thank you, I can take care of myself!" said the girl, in a tone that closed the conversation.

      Late one stormy night—Constantine had been gone a week—the two men whom they were expecting blew in through the blinding smother, half frozen and well-nigh exhausted, with the marks of hard travel showing in their sunken cheeks and in the bleeding pads of their dog-team. But although a hundred miles of impassable trails lay behind them, Balt refused rest or nourishment until he had learned why Cherry had sent for him.

      "What's wrong?" he demanded of her, staring with suspicious eyes at the strangers.

      As briefly as possible she outlined the situation the while Boyd Emerson took his measure, for no person quite like this fisherman had ever crossed the miner's path. He saw a huge, barrel-chested creature whose tremendous muscles bulged beneath his nondescript garments, whose red, upstanding bristle of hair topped a leather countenance from which gleamed a pair of the most violent eyes Emerson had ever beheld, the dominant expression of which was rage. His jaw was long, and the seams from nostril and lip, half hidden behind a stiff stubble, gave it the set of granite. His hands were gnarled and cracked from an age-long immersion in brine, his voice was hoarse with the echo of drumming ratlines. He might have lived forty, sixty years, but every year had been given to the sea, for its breath was in his lungs, its foaming violence was in his blood.

      As the significance of Cherry's words sank into his mind, the signs of an unholy joy overspread the fisherman's visage; his thick lips writhed into an evil grin, and his hairy paws continued to open and close hungrily.

      "Do you mean business?" he bellowed at Emerson.

      "I do."

      "Can you fight?"

      "Yes."

      "Will you do what I tell you, or have you got a lot of sick notions?"

      "No," the young man declared, stoutly, "I have no scruples; but I won't do what you or anybody else tells me. I'll do what I please. I intend to run this enterprise absolutely, and run it my way."

      "This gang won't stop at anything," warned Balt.

      "Neither will I," affirmed the other, with a scowl and a dangerous down-drawing of his lip corners. "I've got to win, so don't waste time wondering how far I'll go. What I want to know is if you will join my enterprise."

      The giant uttered a mirthless chuckle. "I'll give my life to it."

      "I knew you would," flashed Cherry, her eyes beaming.

      "And if we don't beat Willis Marsh, by God, I'll kill him!" Balt shouted, fully capable of carrying out his threat, for his bloodshot eyes were lit with bitter hatred and the memory of his wrongs was like gall in his mouth. Turning to the girl, he said:

      "Now give me something to eat. I've been living on dog fish till my belly is full of bones."

      He ripped the ragged parka from his back and flung it in a sodden heap beside the stove; then strode after her, with the others following.

      She seated him at her table and spread food before him—great quantities of food, which he devoured ravenously, humped over in his seat like a bear, his jaw hanging close to his plate. His appetite was as ungoverned as his temper; he did not taste his meal nor note its character, but demolished whatever fell first to his hand, staring curiously up from under his thatched brows at Emerson, now and then grunting some interruption to the other's rapid talk. Of Cherry and of "Fingerless" Fraser, who regarded him with awe, he took not the slightest heed. He gorged himself with sufficient provender for four people; then observing that the board was empty, swept the crumbs and remnants from his lips, and rose, saying:

      "Now, let's go out by the stove. I've been cold for three days."

      Cherry left the two of them there, and long after she had gone to bed she heard the murmur of their voices.

      "It's all arranged," they advised her at the breakfast-table. "We leave to-morrow."

      "To-morrow?" she echoed, blankly.

      "To-morrow?" likewise questioned Fraser, in alarm. "Oh, say! You can't do that. My feet are too sore to travel. I've certainly got a bad pair of 'dogs.'"

      "We start in the morning. We have no time to waste."

      Cherry turned to the fisherman. "You can't get ready so soon, George."

      "I'm ready now," answered the big fellow.

      She felt a sudden dread at her heart. What if they failed and did not return? What if some untoward peril should overtake them on the outward trip? It was a hazardous journey, and George Balt was the most reckless man on the Behring coast. She cast a frightened glance at Emerson, but none of the men noticed it. Even if they had observed the light that had come into those clear eyes, they would not have known it for the dawn of a new love any more than she herself realized what her reasonless fears betokened. She had little time to ponder, however, for Emerson's next words added to her alarm:

      "We'll catch the mail-boat at Katmai."

      "Katmai!" she broke in, sharply. "You said you were going by the

       Iliamna route."

      "The other is shorter."

      She turned on Balt, angrily. "You know better than to suggest such a thing."

      "I didn't suggest it," said Balt. "It's Mr. Emerson's own idea; he insists."

      "I'm for the long, safe proposition every time," Fraser announced, as if settling the matter definitely, languidly filling his pipe.

      Boyd's voice broke in curtly upon his revery. "You're not going with us."

      "The hell I ain't!" exploded the other. "Why not?"

      "There won't be room. You understand—it's hard travelling with three."

      "Oh, see here, now, pal! You promised to take me to the States," the adventurer demurred. "You wouldn't slough me at this gravel-pit, after you promised?" He was visibly alarmed.

      "Very well," said Emerson, resignedly, "If you feel that way about it, come along; but I won't take you east of Seattle."

      "Seattle ain't so bad," Fraser replied. "I guess I can pick up a pinch of change there, all right. But Kalvik—Wow!"

      "Why do you have to go so soon?" Cherry asked Emerson, when the two others had left them.

      "Because every day counts."

      "But why the Katmai route? It's the stormy season, and you may have to wait two weeks for the mail-boat after you reach the coast."

      "Yes; but, on the other hand, if we should miss it by one day, it would mean a month's delay. She ought to be due in about СКАЧАТЬ