The Purple Flame

  CHAPTER XIV MYSTERIOUS MUSIC

  Two days later Marian and Attatak found themselves tramping slowly alongbehind their tired deer. It was night. Now and again the moon shot agolden beam of light across their trail. For the most part that trail wasdark, overshadowed by great spruce and fir trees that stood out blackagainst the whiteness of the snow, each tree seeming a gown cladmonk--silent witnesses of their passing.

  There was now a definitely marked trail. An ax cut here and there on atree told them this trail had been made by men, and not by moose andcaribou. They had seen no traces of man. No human habitation had sent itsgleam of light across their trail to bid them welcome. Scarcely knowingwhether she wished to see the light of a cabin, Marian tramped doggedlyon. It was long past camping time, yet she feared to make camp. Severaltimes she had caught the long drawn howl of a wolf, faint and indistinctin the distance.

  With a burst of joy and hope she thought of the progress they had made.The tramp across open tundra had been fearfully hard. They had, however,reaped from it a rich reward; the river they had found was larger thanthe other and its surface had offered an almost perfect trail. It flowednorth by west instead of southwest. It took them directly on their way.Even now Marian was wondering if this were not the very river at whosejunction with the great Yukon was located the station they sought toreach before the Government Agent had passed.

  "If it is," she murmured, "what can hinder us from making the station intime?"

  It seemed that there could be but one answer to this; yet in the Arcticthere is no expression that is so invariably true as this one: "You nevercan tell."

  Then, suddenly, Marian's thoughts were drawn to another subject. Apeculiar gleam of moonlight among the trees reminded her of the purpleflame. At once she began wondering what could be the source of thatpeculiar and powerful light; who possessed it, and what their purpose wasin living on the tundra.

  "And Patsy?" she questioned herself, "I wonder if they are troubling her.Wonder if they are really living off our deer. I wish I had not beenobliged to leave our camp. Seems that there were problems enough withoutthis. I wish--"

  Suddenly she put out one hand and stopped her deer, while with the othershe gave Attatak a mute signal for silence.

  Breaking gently through the hushed stillness of the forest, like a springzephyr over a meadow, there came to her ears a sound of wonderfulsweetness.

  "Music," she breathed, "and such music! The very music of Heaven!"

  Moments passed, and still with slightly bowed heads, as if listening tothe Angelus, they stood there, still as statues, listening to the strangemusic.

  "The woods were God's first temples," Marian whispered.

  For the moment she lived as in a trance. A great lover of music, she feltthe thrill of perfect melody breaking over her soul like bright wavesupon golden sand. She fancied that this melody had no human origin, thatit was a spontaneous outburst from the very heart of the forest; Godhimself speaking through the mute life of earth.

  When this illusion had passed she still stood there wondering.

  "Attatak, what day of the week is this?"

  For a moment Attatak did not answer. She was counting on her fingers.

  "Sunday," she said at last.

  "Sunday," Marian repeated. "And that is a pipe organ. How wonderful! Howperfectly beautiful! A pipe organ in the midst of the forest!"

  "And yet," she hesitated, scarcely daring to believe her senses, "howcould a pipe organ be brought way up here?"

  "But it is!" she affirmed a few seconds later. "Attatak, you watch thedeer while I go ahead and find out what sort of place it is, and whetherthere are dangerous dogs about."

  Her wonder grew with every step that she took in the direction of themysterious musician. As she came closer, and the tones became moredistinct, she knew that she could not be mistaken.

  "It's a pipe organ," she told herself with conviction, "and a splendidone at that! Who in all the world would bring such a wonderful instrumentaway up here? Strange I have never heard of this settlement. It must be arather large village or they could not afford such an organ for theirchurch."

  As she thought of these things, and as the rise and fall of the musicstill came sweeping through the trees, a strange spell fell upon her. Itwas as if she were resting upon the soft, cushioned seat of some splendidchurch. With the service appealing to her sense of the artistic and thebeautiful, and to her instinct of reverence; with the soft lightspervading all, she was again in the chapel of her own university.

  "Oh!" she cried, "I do hope it's a real church and that we're not toolate for the service."

  One thought troubled her as she hurried forward. If this was a largevillage, where were the tracks of dog teams that must surely betravelling up the river; trappers going out over their lines of traps;hunters seeking caribou; prospectors starting away over the trail for afresh search for the ever illusive yellow gold? Surely all these wouldhave left a well beaten trail. Yet since the last snow there had not beena single team passing that way.

  "It's like a village of the dead," she mused, and shivered at thethought.

  When at last she rounded a turn and came within full sight of the placefrom which the enchanting tones issued, the sight that met her eyescaused her to start back and stare with surprise and amazement.

  She had expected to find a cluster of log cabins; a store, a church and aschool. Instead, she saw a yawning hole in a bank of snow; a hole thatwas doubtless an entrance to some sort of structure. Whether thestructure was built of sod, logs, or merely of snow, she could not guess.Some thirty feet from this entrance, and higher, apparently perched onthe crust of snow, were two such cupola affairs as Marian had seen oncertain types of sailing vessels and gasoline schooners. From these therestreamed a pale yellow light.

  "Well!" she exclaimed. "Well, of all things!"

  For a moment, undecided whether to flee from that strange place, shestood stock still.

  The organ, for the moment, was stilled. The woods were silent. Such ahush as she had never experienced in all her life lay over all. Then,faint, indistinct, came a single note of music. Someone had touched akey. The next instant the world seemed filled with the most wonderfulmelody.

  "_Handel's Largo_," she whispered as she stood there enchanted. Of allpipe organ music, she loved Handel's Largo best. Throughout the renderingof the entire selection, she stood as one enchanted.

  "It is enough," she said when the sound of the last note had died away inthe tree tops. "It's all very mysterious, but any person who can play_Handel's Largo_ like that is not going to be unkind to two girls who arefar from home. I'm going in."

  With unfaltering footsteps she started forward.