Glen of the High North | Page 9

to shuffle uneasily, and to look sheepishly at one another. Then their mouths expanded into a grin, and the storm was over.
The curly-haired man at once left his place and strode over to where the prospector was sitting.
"Frontier Samson!" he exclaimed, gripping him firmly by the hand. "Is it really you?"
"Sure, it's me, all right, Curly. Who else did ye think it was; me ghost?"
"Not when I heard that cat-call, an' the bow-wow."
"Heard 'em before, eh? Guess this isn't the first scrape I've got ye out of, is it?"
"Should say not. But where in h---- did ye drop from, Sam? I didn't know ye were on board."
"Oh, I'm jist on a visit from the outside. An' it's mighty lucky that I'm here, or else I don't know what 'ud have happened. Better leave cards alone, Curly, if ye can't play without fightin'. They make people act like a bunch of kids."
"It was those d---- fools' fault, though, Sam."
"Thar, now, don't make excuses an' blame others, Curly. That's jist what kids allus do. An' cut out them unholy words. There might be a parson around."
Curly flung himself down upon a seat, and lighted a cigarette. He cast a furtive glance at Reynolds, thinking that perhaps he might be the "parson."
"What have ye been doin', Curly?" the old man asked. "An' why was ye driftin' out under that fog-bank? Ye nearly got left, let me tell ye that."
"I know we did, and I thought that d----, excuse me, Sam," he apologized, as he again glanced toward Reynolds. "I mean, I thought that the fog-bank would never lift. We've been doing some of the islands for several months."
"Strike anything?"
"Nothing, an' nearly starved in the bargain. If it hadn't been fer an Indian mission, we wouldn't be alive now."
"Then missionaries are of some use after all, Curly. You was allus hard on 'em, if I remember right."
"Umph! They're all right when one's starving. If they'd only leave the Gospel dope out, it wouldn't be so bad."
"Got a dose of it, eh?"
"Should say I did. Morning, noon an' night I had to go to church with the Indians. I've had enough to last me the rest of me life. Say, weren't we glad to get away!"
"Goin' north agin? I thought ye was through, up thar?"
"So did I. But we heard of the new strike at Big Draw, an' decided to try our luck once more."
"Think ye'll hit it this time?"
"I hope so. But it isn't altogether the gold that's taking me back. There's something more attractive."
"So I imagined."
"I thought you would understand." Curly's voice was eager now. "She'll not escape me this time. Gad, she's a beaut! But as wild as a hawk."
"An' so ye think ye'll corner her, eh?" There was a peculiar note in Samson's voice which Reynolds was quick to detect, but which Curly missed.
"Just you wait an' see," the latter reminded. "That old cuss thinks he's got a regular Gibraltar behind those hills with his lousy Indians. But I'll show him a thing or two."
"Ye've never been thar, have ye?" Samson queried.
"Never. But the bird comes out of her nest sometimes, ye know, an' then----"
"You'll be the hawk, is that it?" Samson asked as the other paused.
"Oh, I'll be around," Curly laughed. "One doesn't run across the likes of her every day, an' she's the gold I'm really after."
"Wall, all I kin say is this," the prospector replied, as he rose slowly to his feet, "that ye'd better be mighty keerful, young man. That Giberalter, as ye call it, is guarded by a lion that ain't to be fooled with. He's got claws that reach from sun-up to sun-down as several smarter ones than you have found out to their sorrow. Leave him alone, an' he'll bother nobody. But interfere with that lass of his, an' the hull north won't be big enough to hide ye. That's my warnin', an' if yer not a fool ye'll heed it."
Reynolds had a good long sleep that afternoon. He had been much disturbed the night before by several men in the next room, who shouted and sang until early morning. During the evening he went out upon deck, well forward, as he wished to be alone, and away from the men who were drinking and gambling in other parts of the steamer. It was a beautiful evening, with scarcely a ripple disturbing the surface of the water. The air was mild, and when the sun went down, the moon rose big and cheery above the dense dark forest away to the right. Reynolds thought over the conversation he had heard between Frontier Samson and the man known as "Curly." That the latter was a scoundrel he had not the slightest doubt. His face alone would have betrayed him even if he had not spoken