The Purple Flame
CHAPTER XIX PASSING THE RAPIDS
As the raft, which had been dragged from the bank of the river by thehermit of the mysterious lodge, swung out into the ice strewn current, itshot directly for the glacier's end as if drawn by a magnet.
Taking a quick turn of the rope about a point of rock, the aged manbraced himself for the shock which must come when the raft, with its loadof sleds and other trappings, had taken up the slack.
All too soon it came. Bracing himself as best he could, he held hisground. The strain increased. It seemed that the rope must snap; that theold man's iron grip must yield. Should the raft reach the glacier itwould be lost forever. The muscles in the man's arms played like bands ofsteel. Blood vessels stood out on his temples like whipcords, yet he heldhis ground.
Ten seconds passed, twenty, thirty, then with a whirl like some wildanimal yielding to its captor, the raft swung about and shot away downstream.
Plunging forward, leaping rocks, gliding over glassy surfaces of snow,puffing, perspiring, the old man followed.
Now he was down; the cause seemed lost. But in a flash he was up again,clutching at a jagged rock that tore his hand. For a second time hestayed the mad rush of the raft. Then he was on again.
Bobbing from reef to reef, plunging through foam, leaping high above thetorrents, the raft went careering on. Twice it all but turned over, andbut for the skill of its master would have been crushed by great grindingcakes of ice.
For thirty long minutes the battle lasted; minutes that seemed hours tothe aged man. Then with a sigh he guided the raft into a safe eddy ofwater.
Sinking down upon a hard packed bank of snow, he lay there as if dead.For a long time he lay there, then rising stiffly, made his way down theledge to drag the raft ashore and unlash the sleds. After this he drewthe sleds up the hill one at a time and set them across the blazed trail.
"There!" he sighed. "A good night's work done, and a neat one. I couldnot have done it better twenty years ago. 'Grow old along with me,'" hethrew back his hair as if in defiance of raging torrents, "'The best isyet to be. The last of life, for which the first was made--'"
Having delivered this bit of poetical oration to the tune of the boomingrapids, he turned to pick his way back over the uncertain trail that ledto his strange abode.
Eight hours after she had crept into the luxurious bed in the guest roomof the strange lodge, Marian stirred, then half awake, felt the drowsywarmth of wolf-skin rugs. For a moment she lay there and inhaled thedrug-like perfume of balsam and listened to the steady breathing of theEskimo girl beside her. She was about to turn over for another sleep,when, from some cell of her brain where it had been stowed the nightbefore, there came the urge that told her she must make haste.
"Haste! Haste! Haste!" came beating in upon her drowsy senses. It was asif her brain were a radio, and the message was coming from the air.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright. At the same instant she found herself wideawake, fully alert and conscious of the problems she must face thatday--the passing of the rapids and covering a long span of that trailwhich still lay between them and their goal.
She did not waken Attatak. That might not be necessary for another hour.She sprang out upon the heavy bear skin rug, and there went through a setof wild, whirling gestures that limbered every muscle in her body andsent the red blood racing through her veins. After that she quicklyslipped into her blouse, knickers, stockings and deerskin boots, to atlast go tiptoeing down the corridor toward the large living-room whereshe heard the roar of the open fire as it raced up the chimney.
She found her host sitting by the fire. In the uncertain light heappeared haggard and worn, as if quite done in from some great exertion.Of course Marian could not so much as guess how he had spent the night.She had slept through it all.
With a smile of greeting the old man motioned her to a seat beside him.
"You'll not begrudge an old man a half hour's company?" he said.
"Indeed not."
"You'll wish to ask me things. Everyone who passes this way wants to.Mostly they ask and I don't tell. A fair lady, though," there wassomething of ancient gallantry in his tone, "fair ladies usually ask whatthey will and get it, too."
For a moment he sat staring silently into the fire.
"This house," he said at last, "is a bit unusual. That pipe organ, forinstance--you wouldn't expect it here. It came here as if by accident;Providence, I call it. A rich young man had more things than he knew whatto do with. The Creator sent some of them to me.
"As for me, I came here voluntarily. You have probably taken me for aprospector. I have never bought pick nor pan. There are things that lureme, but gold is not one of them.
"I had troubles before I came here. Troubles are the heritage of theaged. I sometimes think that it is not well to live too long.
"And yet," he shook himself free of the mood; his face lighting up as heexclaimed, "And yet, life is very wonderful! Wonderful, even up here inthe frozen north. I might almost say, _especially_ here in the north.
"I came here to be alone. I brought in food with a dog team. I built acabin of logs, and here I lived for a year.
"One day a young man came up the river in a wonderful pleasure yacht andanchored at the foot of the rapids. Being a lover of music, he had builta pipe organ into his yacht; the one you heard last night."
"And did--did he die?" Marian asked, a little break coming in her voice.
"No," the old man smiled, "he tarried too long. Being a lover ofnature--a hunter and an expert angler--and having found the most idealspot in the world as long as summer lasted, he stayed on after the frostsand the first snow. I was away at the time, else I would have warned him.I returned the day after it happened. There had been a heavy freeze farup the river, then a storm came that broke the ice away. The ice cameracing down over the rapids like mad and wrecked his wonderful yachtbeyond all repair.
"We did as much as we could about getting the parts on shore; savedalmost all but the hull. He stayed with me for a few days; then, becomingrestless, traded me all there was left of his boat for my dog team.
"That winter, with the help of three Indians and their dogs, I broughtthe wreckage up here. Gradually, little by little, I have arranged itinto the form of a home that is as much like a boat as a house. The organwas unimpaired, and here it sings to me every day of the great whitewinter."
He ceased speaking and for a long time was silent. When he spoke againhis tones were mellow with kindness and a strange joy.
"I am seldom lonely now. The woods and waters are full of interestingsecrets. Travellers, like you, come this way now and again. I try to beprepared to serve them; to be their friend."
"May--may I ask one question?" Marian suggested timidly.
"As many as you like."
"How did you know I was at the door last night when you were playing? Youdid not see me. You couldn't have heard me."
"That," he smiled, "is a question I should like to ask someone myself;someone much wiser than I am. I knew you were there. I had been feelingyour presence for more than an hour before you came. I knew I had anaudience. I was playing for them. How did I know? I cannot tell. It hasoften been so before. Perhaps all human presence can be felt by somespecially endowed persons. It may be that in the throngs of great citiesthe message of soul to soul is lost, just as a radio message is lost in ajumble of many messages sent at once.
"But then," he laughed, "why speculate? Life's too short. Some things wemust accept as they are. What's more important to you is that your sledsare beyond the rapids. When breakfast is over, you can strap yoursleeping bags on your deer and I will guide you over the trail around therapids to the point where I left your sleds."
A look of consternation flashed over Marian's face. She was thinking ofthe ancient dishes and how fragile they were. "I have some fragilearticles in the sleeping bags," she said. "They--they might break!"
"Break?" He wore a puzzled look.
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For a second she hesitated; then, reassured by the kindly face of thegentle old man, decided to tell him the story of their adventure in thecave. Then she launched into the story with all the eagerness of adiscoverer.
"I see," he said, when she had finished the story. "I know just how youfeel. However, there is now only one safe thing to do. Leave thesetreasures with me. If the rapids are frozen over when the time comes forthe return trip, you can pass here and get them. You'll always bewelcome. Better leave an address to which they may be sent in case youshould not pass this way. The rapids freeze over every winter. I willsurely be able to get them off on the first river boat. They can be sentto any spot in the world. To attempt to pack them over on your deer wouldmean certain destruction."
Reluctant as Marian was to leave the treasure behind, she saw the wisdomof his advice. So, feeling a perfect confidence in him, she decided toleave her treasure in his care. Then she gave him her address at Nome,with instructions for shipping should she fail to return this way.
"One thing more I wanted to ask you," she said. "How many men are thereat the Station?"
"One man; the trader. He stays there the year 'round."
"One man!" she exclaimed.
"One is all. Time was when there were twenty. Prospectors, traders,Indians, trappers. Two years ago forest fires destroyed the timber. Thegame sought other feeding grounds and the trappers, traders and Indianswent with them. Gold doesn't seem to exist in the streams hereabouts, sothe prospectors have left, too. Now one man keeps the post; sort ofholding on, I guess, just to see if the old days won't return."
"Do you suppose he could--could leave for a week or two?" Marianfaltered.
"Guess not. Company wouldn't permit it."
"Then--then--" Marian set her lips tight. She would not worry this kindold man with her troubles. The fact remained, however, that if there wasbut one man at the Station, and he could not leave, there was no one whocould be delegated by the Government Agent to go back with her to helpfight her battles against Scarberry.
Suddenly, as she thought of the weary miles they had travelled, of thehardships they had endured, and of the probability that they would, afterall, fail in fulfilling their mission, she felt very weak and as one whohas suddenly grown old.