LITMIR.BIZ

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three days the torrential downpour continued till the pools and the lakes of the Purgatory country were merged in one far stretching sheet of black water. Then overnight the skies cleared, the frost swept down from the north and the people on the knoll awoke in a new world.

      It was on the morning of the fourth day of the cold wave that Mr. Dessel dropped into his last sleep.

      Once old Cumber understood his master had gone he withdrew with his dogs to the farther side of the knoll and remained until nightfall. This left Dix alone to fashion a coffin and dig a shallow grave in the frozen ground. Dry-eyed and silent the girl watched him line the grave with spruce boughs and heard him repeat the service for the dead. After doing his duty by the deceased he led her through the edge of night to the cabin and sought to comfort her, promising that once back in civilization he would send men to remove the remains. On entering the living-room she seated herself by the fire and for a long time remained silent.

      “It’s bitter cold out,” he said, standing by her side and gently patting her shoulder. “And you have been very brave.”

      “The ice thickens fast in the lake,” she murmured. Suddenly lifting her head and meeting his pitying gaze she whispered, “Don’t think I fail in appreciation. You have been good to me. What could I have done without you, what—” Unable to continue, she wept for the first time since her uncle’s death.

      * * * *

      He was wise enough not to interrupt this display of emotion and simply stood by her side, patting her shoulder. Gradually her sobs ceased and she said, “I won’t be weak again.”

      “Don’t try to suppress anything, little woman,” he gently soothed.

      She clasped his hand, then clutched it fiercely as a sharp report echoed through the darkness outside, smiting their ears through the frosty air like the crack of a whip.

      “What was that?” cried Dix, releasing his hand and darting to the window.

      “Cumber shooting small game for the dogs,” she explained. “It made my nerves jump.”

      “Then he has a weapon?” whispered Dix.

      At first the full significance of his tone and query did not register. She stared at him questioningly for a moment; then her face flushed and she lamented, “I should have told you. Yes; he has a rifle. I know what you fear and it was criminal in me not to think to tell you.”

      “We’ll fear nothing,” he mumbled, yet gnawing his lips. “If I had known—”

      “Forgive me,” she pleaded. “If heedless for myself I should have remembered your danger. Now with uncle gone and him armed—”

      “It matters none his having the gun,” he deprecated. “I’ll make a try for it tonight—”

      When old Cumber finished feeding his pets and entered the house he was unarmed. Nor could Dix locate the weapon although he searched the shed and peeped into Cumber’s room. The fact that the man was cunning enough to keep the rifle concealed bespoke a sinister purpose. Dix did not dare to wander from the immediate vicinity of the house, for once he strayed aside he knew the dogs would hunt him as fair game. Undoubtedly the rifle was in the hovel, but to search there with the brutes unmuzzled meant a horrible death.

      When he returned to the living-room, his ears tingling with the cold, he found old Cumber crouched on the floor and brooding before the leaping flames.

      “It’s zero or lower,” Dix announced to the girl who had withdrawn to the shadows in one corner.

      Cumber jerked up his head and staring at the two remarked, “The master is gone to a fair country far to the North. The ice holds and tomorrow I must be off to find him.”

      The light from the fireplace flared in Dix’s eyes and the glance he exchanged with the girl contained a message. She caught his inspiration and her own gaze warmed and she slowly nodded her head in acquiescence. Bowing over her he whispered, “We will start early and get ahead of him.”

      “The dogs will stay in the hovel because of the cold,” she murmured. “I will be ready.”

      “Pack up food, matches and a compass. Make a bundle of blankets and put on your warmest clothes. Where are the skates?”

      “Hanging in the shed behind the door. I’ll secure the provisions now.”

      * * * *

      The glowing coals in the fireplace vaguely illumined the room as Dix tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. The sharp air whipped the blood to his face and filled him with a strange exultation. The half-lights in the east were announcing the morning. The dogs were quiet, doubtlessly crowded together in the hovel for warmth. Old Cumber was in his room, asleep, Dix hoped.

      He tapped softly on the girl’s door and immediately she appeared, a mackinaw swathing her small figure. She carried a roll of blankets and a bag of provisions. “We must bring the sled through the house,” he whispered.

      Moving as softly as possible they gained the shed and picked up the sled. It was necessary to pass old Cumber’s door, but this, fortunately, was closed. The skates had been already secured. Dix was now in something of a quandary. He did not believe he could drag the sled to the lake without arousing both Cumber and the dogs. The girl guessed the dilemma and insisted she be allowed to help. He was loath to consent. His indecision was interrupted by the sound of a shuffling step in the kitchen. Dropping the provisions and blankets into the sled Dix pushed it through the door, whispering:

      “Drag it to the ice. It’s a case of must.”

      “And you?” She shivered.

      “I’ll be along directly. Go.”

      He closed the door on her and turned just as Cumber stole into the room. For a moment his heart jumped and he fancied he was facing a new and grotesque evil—a beast that walked erect like a man. A second glance revealed the cause for such grim imagining. Cumber had pulled a heavy fur cap down to his ears and what with his beard and deep-set eyes he resembled anything savage except a man. He took in the situation at a glance and with a growling cry turned to retreat. With a spring Dix was upon him and had him by his broad shoulders. Outside came the rasping shriek of the iron-shod runners as they grated over the frozen ground, to be quickly answered by the fierce qui vive of the dogs. “You are a devil!” screamed the madman, twisting and seizing Dix around the waist and with terrible strength hurling him across the room.

      Again Dix overtook him before he could make the kitchen, and this time managed to avoid the crushing embrace. The sled complained shrilly and the dogs increased their protest. The two men fought blindly, Cumber striving to break clear and release the dogs, Dix grimly determined to stop him. In one of their gyrations they crashed against the table and as Dix fell across it his outstretched hand brushed across the skates. With a mighty effort he drew clear of the groping fingers and struck at random. Cumber fell with a crash. Still grasping the skates Dix sprinted down the slope and arrived just as the girl drew the sled onto the ice.

      “Jump in and roll up in the blankets,” he barked, as he rapidly adjusted the skates.

      “Cumber?” she choked.

      “He won’t bother us,” he panted. “But the dogs may break loose any minute…”

      “They’re shut in or they would have been here before now,” she shuddered, staring horrified at the dark bulk of the cabin.

      A high-pitched, ululating cry ascended from the top of the knoll in a hideous spiral of warning and a door slammed violently.

      “By heavens! He’s able to do mischief,” groaned Dix, fumbling at the last clamp. “He’s gone to the hovel,” moaned the girl.

      “Sit tight!” commanded Dix. The next moment the sled was gliding over the ice, the clear musical clang of the skates cutting the crisp air like knives. He took a course paralleling the shore and as he found his stride the uproar on the knoll changed into a purposeful chant, the deep, swinging chorus

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