The Purple Flame

  CHAPTER XV AN OLD MAN OF THE NORTH

  Having walked resolutely to the black hole in the snow bank, Marianlooked within. There was no door; merely an opening here. A dim lamp inthe distance sent an uncertain and ghostly light down the corridor. Bythis light she made out numerous posts and saw that a narrow passage-wayran between them.

  There was something so mysterious about the place that she hesitated onthe threshold. At that moment a thought flashed through her mind, astartling and disheartening thought.

  "Radio," she murmured, "nothing but radio."

  She was convinced in an instant that her solution of the origin of thewonderful music was correct.

  The persons who lived in this strange dwelling, which reminded her ofpictures she had seen of the dens and caves of robbers and brigands, hadsomehow come into possession of a powerful radio receiving set. Somewherein Nome, or Fairbanks, or perhaps even in Seattle--a noted musician wasgiving an organ recital. This radio set with its loud speaker had pickedup the music and had faithfully reproduced it. That was all there was tothe mystery. There was no pipe organ, no skillful musician out here inthe forest wilderness. It had been stupid of her to think there might be.

  This revelation, for revelation it surely seemed to be, was bothdisappointing and disturbing. Disappointing, because in heradventure-loving soul she had hoped to discover here in the wilderness athing that to all appearances could not be--a modern miracle. Disturbingit was, too, for since a mere instrument, a radio-phone, has no soul, thecharacter of the person who operated it might be anything at all. Shecould not conceive of the person who actually touched the keys and causedthat divine music to pour forth as a villain. Any sort of person,however, might snap on the switch that sends such music vibrating fromthe horn of the loud speaker of a radiophone.

  For a full five minutes she wavered between two courses of action; to goon inside this den, or to go back to Attatak and attempt to pass itunobserved.

  Perhaps it was the touch of a finger on what she supposed to be a far offkey--the resuming of the music; perhaps it was her own utter wearinessthat decided her at last. Whatever it was, she set a resolute foot insidethe entrance, and the next instant found herself carefully picking herway down the dark passage toward the dim lamp.

  To her surprise, when she at last reached the lamp that hung over a door,she found not an oil lamp, but a small electric light bulb.

  "Will marvels never cease?" she whispered.

  For a second she hesitated. Should she knock? She hated spying; yet thedoor stood invitingly ajar. If the persons within did not appear to bethe sort of persons a girl might trust; if she could see them and remainunobserved, there was still opportunity for flight.

  Acting upon this impulse, she peered through the crack in the door.

  Imagine her surprise upon seeing at the far end of a long,high-ceilinged, heavily timbered room, not a radio horn, but a pipeorgan.

  "So," she breathed, "my first thought was right. That enchanting music_was_ produced on the spot. And by such a musician!"

  Seated with his side toward her, was the bent figure of an old man. Hislong, flowing white beard, his snowy locks, the dreamy look upon his faceas his fingers drifted back and forth across the keys, reminded her ofpictures she had seen of ancient bards playing upon golden harps.

  "'Harp of the North that mouldering long has hung,'" she recited in a lowvoice.

  The fingers on the keys suddenly ceased their drifting, the dreamy lookfaded from the musician's face. A smile lighted his eyes as, turningabout, he spoke in a cheery voice:

  "Come in. I have been waiting for you. You are welcome to an old man'slonely house; doubly welcome, coming as you do in time for Sundayvespers."

  This strange, almost uncanny proceeding so startled the girl that for asecond she was tempted to turn and flee. The next second she had completecontrol of herself. Pushing the door open, as if entering the chamber ofthe king of fairies, she made a little bow and said:

  "Thank you."

  Then, realizing how perfectly absurd her action had been, she broke intoa hearty laugh and in this laugh the old man joined.

  So, with the ice broken, they became friends at once.

  To her vast relief she found that the old man, though he had undoubtedlybeen expecting them or someone else, did not know all about them. Heasked if they travelled with dog team or reindeer. Upon being told thatthey drove reindeer, he smiled and said:

  "Good. It's lucky I have feed for your deer. Reindeer people seldom comethis way. Once I was caught unprepared to entertain them, so last autumnI put in a good stock of moss and willow leaves. Your deer shall besafely housed and richly fed, and so shall you. Go bring them at once. Orshall I go with you?"

  "Oh no; that is not necessary," Marian hastened to assure him.

  "Very well then, while you go I will put the birds on to broil. You aredoubtless very hungry."

  Ten minutes later Marian was chattering to Attatak:

  "The queerest place you ever saw; and the strangest old gentleman. Butreally, I think he is a dear."