“A HAZARD OF THE SNOWS.”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16323, 12 January 1921, Page 5

“A HAZARD OF THE SNOWS.”

(Bj

OTTWELL SINKS.)

j CHAPTER XVII. —Continued. _ | “ Yes 1 I don't think I ever ielt j quite iiise it before.” Ginger Bob was \ more interested still. ‘‘ \Viiat are tiler { symptoms like, Colonel?” i “ \>eli, 1 have a cold shivery sort of » feeling,” answered Andover. ! “ Then git about a pint of coffee ih 1 ycr, Colonel, whilst et’s steam in . i That’ll put yer right.’’ 'lbe Major | took the advice, but still did not eat; | and an hour alter, he was in a high ' lever, and complaining of violent pains ! in the back. The whisky-runner consid-

j ered him caretuiiy, and presently wit«i----j out ostentation put the width of the i tire between himself and his companion. •• j'ell ycr what, Colonel, yer lookin’ bad; ef i were you 1 should git inter I that'sleepin’-bag *of yers.'- : “ L think- it would be as well,’ acknowledged the Major, and a little time i after did so. ! Ginger Bob made no preparations lor retiring himself. Instead he buiifc a : huge hre, and, charging his pipe, saL i smoking. His brutal face wore an anxi- ! ous look. Again and again he glanced towards the place where Andover lav with an odd light of fear in his eyes. Presently from the sleeping-bag came the sound of a voice, speaking m broken, disconnected sentences, and the whiskyrunner nodded to himself. , “ Hamblin 5 ,” he muttered. “ Souifdtbad. looks bad, aw’ esbad!” i His vigil lasted for an hour, two I hours, then he rose, and, quickly makj ing his way to the sled, began to go j through the stores. A small mixed asi port men.t* he set on one side, the rest j lie packed on the sled again, and carefully lashed them in place. Then lie ! took the Major’s rifle and thrust that | under the lashings; and, that done, i himself draggl'd the sled a little way l from the camp. After that one by ono he found the dogs, and dragging them to the sled harnessed them in their places. He looked back at the camp. He was not a humane man, and the instinct of self-preservation was strong within him, but even he felt the dastardiines3 of the thing be was about to i do. Moved by some touch of compunc- | lion, he went back to the fire, and runi- ! maging in his furs produced a. pocketbook and,a pencil, and proceeded to write a note. Tearing out the page he had written on. lie lialf-split a small bough, and inserted the note in the split, sticking the bough upright in the snow close by the provisions which he had taken from the sled. Then ho looked towards the sleeping-bag again. ”So long, Colonel,” lie whispered. “ Sorry 1 ain't built for a bloomin’ heTo; an’ ver bin ter close ter smallpox for my liking. Them symptoms of yern ain’t good. Ef yer only knew efc-^-they’re d d bad. An’ can’t take risks. Nope! So I quits. By-by!” He left the camp, anH, going back to the team, paoved off in the darkness, up-rive*. The dogs were tired, and lie himself was tired, so that they made no great pace; but he travelled for threo hours before he made a fresli camp, where he slept the untroubled sleep of a. man who had long rid himself of the burden of a conscience. He was a little late next morning, and the day had broken when he set about preparations for breakfast, over which lie hurried more than usual. Constantly during the preparations and whilst he ate, he turned his eyes downstream, fo* though, having possession of the rifle, lie was not afraid of the “ Colonel,” he was deadly afraid of that to which, as he believed, liis late companion had fallen victim, and wa.-> averse to making any closer acquaintance with it. The ‘‘Colonel” might have the strength to follow him, in which case As he considered the contingency he gave an almost involuntary glance at the rifle, thus betraying the means by which he would seek protection for himself in case of need.

Ureakfast passed without incident, and soon after he was breaking trail again. Ho marched till noon, and was/ j hesitating whether to make mid-day j rest, or to push on a little while longer | and make an early camp for the night, ! when his attention was attracted by u I dark patch on tho bank of the river furthest from "him. He looked at it ; curiously for a moment, then ho said • aloud ;• ‘• Somebody’s camped jest here, i lately. Guess f’! 1 hev a look. Maybe I Mat; an’ that girl ” Without finishing the sentence, he j moved towards the dark patch, and, as he had surmised, found that it repre- ! sen ted the ashes of a camp-fire, which ! from its condition had been extinguish - ied bv falling snow. A curious drift on the further side of the lire caught his u ttention, and accustomed tho-iigli he wa-s to the strange freaks that the wind plays” with snow, lie stood staring at it. It looked very like a mail seated in a huddled position. and after a moment lie crossed to it and pushed at the drift with his foot. It yielded, the centre of it toppling sideways, and as it did so he was startled to find the impression confirmed. Tinder the outer casing cf snow was a dead man. He gave one look at the frozen face, then an oath o? surprise ripped from him. “ Gawd in heaven! Bill!” It was indeed his partner in the j whisky-running’business, the man who ] had left the cabin with Musgrave- at j his heels and who, by some unexpiani- . ed means, had come to this end in tlrr* | snow. Ginger Bob gazed at the ntili I taco incredulously—then lie looked ' round for the dead man’s sled, it was nowhere about. He poked in the snow, and found only a pair of snow-shoes of the Cree pattern which Bill affected. Bill’s rifle was not there; nor his axe nor blankets, or if they were, Ginger Bob could not find them. He looked from the snow-shoes to the dead man who had owned them, and from the man to the ashes of the fire by which ho had crouched to die, then he gave, an expression to the idea in liis mind. “ Dogs stampeded, or went th Rough rotten ice. Poor ole Bill !” That seemed the likeliest explanation ; and after considering it a little, j ho nodded his head as if to confirm ; it. Then; shivered a little, and ; fitter shovelling the snow over the dead man’s face with one of the snow-shoes : lie turned away. He made no other | attempt to find sepulture for his late ; partner. The ground was frozen too j hard and deep to dig a grave; and he had no blanket to spare, in which he j might have wrapped the dead man in i order to give him the tree-burial prsic- ; tised bv the Northern Indians. •The | snow which was hi« winding sheet must be his grave. Without further delay. . he called to the dogs, and cracking ! his whip hurried away. AH thought : of halting in tho immediate neighbourI hood was He travelled ‘on j until jt was almost "dark, and when ho pitched camp, the fire that he built was larger than usual. He was con- ! soious of a little catch of fear at his i heart and was more cutely conscious of the darkness and silence than he had over been before: and at the same time had a sense of loneliness to which hitherto he had been a stranger. * And the fire was cheerful. It drove tho darkness back. Its pleasant crackling and hissing spurts broke the deadly silence. (To be continued A