Laughing Bill Hyde | Page 4

mail-carrier will
take us to Nome, or up the Yukon, after the trails open."
"I bet you'll do a good business right here, when folks see what you
done for me," Bill ventured.
"Just wait till you look at the town--deserted warehouses, some young
and healthy watchmen, and a Siwash village. You're the only possible
patient in all of St. Michaels."
Bill lay silent for an hour, staring through the open cabin window at a
gray curtain of falling snowflakes; then he shook his head and
muttered:
"Well, I be danged!"

"Anything you want?" Thomas inquired, quickly.
"I was just thinking about that gal." Bill indicated the leather-framed
photograph which was prominently featured above the other bunk.
"You ain't gettin' ahead very fast, are you?"
This time the young medical man smiled with his lips only--his eyes
were grave and troubled. "I've written her all the circumstances, and
she'll understand. She's that sort of a girl." He turned cheerfully back to
his task. "I found that I had a few dollars left, so we won't starve."
Mr. Hyde felt impelled to confess that in his war-bag there was a roll of
some seven hundred dollars, title to which had vested in him on the
northward trip, together with certain miscellaneous objects of virtu, but
he resisted the impulse, fearing that an investigation by his nurse might
lead the latter to believe that he, Bill, was not a harness-maker at all,
but a jewelry salesman. He determined to spring that roll at a later date,
and to present the doctor with a very thin, very choice gold watch out
of State-room 27. Bill carried out this intention when he had
sufficiently recovered to get about.
Later, when his lungs had healed, Bill hired the mail-man to take him
and his nurse to Nome. Since he was not yet altogether strong, he rode
the sled most of the way, while the doctor walked. It was a slow and
tiresome trip, along the dreary shores of Behring Sea, over timberless
tundras, across inlets where the new ice bent beneath their weight and
where the mail-carrier cautiously tested the footing with the head of his
ax. Sometimes they slept in their tent, or again in road-houses and in
Indian villages.
Every hour Laughing Bill grew stronger, and with his strength of body
grew his strength of affection for the youthful doctor. Bill experienced
a dog-like satisfaction in merely being near him; he suffered pangs
when Thomas made new friends; he monopolized him jealously. The
knowledge that he had a pal was new and thrilling; it gave Bill constant
food for thought and speculation. Thomas was always gentle and
considerate, but his little services, his unobtrusive sacrifices never went
unnoticed, and they awoke in the bandit an ever-increasing

wonderment. Also, they awoke a fierce desire to square the obligation.
The two men laid over at one of the old Russian towns, and Thomas, as
was his restless custom, made investigation of the native village. Of
course Bill went with him. They had learned by this time to enter
Indian houses without knocking, so, therefore, when they finally came
to a cabin larger and cleaner than the rest they opened the door and
stepped inside, quite like experienced travelers.
A squaw was bent over a tub of washing, another stood beside the tiny
frosted window staring out. Neither woman answered the greeting of
the white men.
"Must be the chief's house," Thomas observed.
"Must be! I s'pose the old bird is out adding up his reindeer. 'Sapolio
Sue' is prob'ly his head wife." Laughing Bill ran an interested eye over
the orderly interior. "Some shack, but--I miss the usual smell."
Neither woman paid them the least attention, so they continued to talk
with each other.
"I wonder what she is washing," Doctor Thomas said, finally.
The figure at the window turned, exposing the face of a comely young
Indian girl. Her features were good, her skin was light. She eyed the
intruders coolly, then in a well-modulated voice, and in excellent
English, she said:
"She is washing a pair of sealskin pants."
Both men removed their caps in sudden embarrassment. Thomas
exclaimed:
"I beg your pardon! We thought this was just an ordinary native house,
or we wouldn't have intruded."
"You haven't intruded. This is 'Reindeer Mary's' house." The girl had
again turned her back.

"Are you Reindeer Mary?"
"No, I am Ponatah. Mary befriended me; she lets me live with her."
"Allow me to introduce Mr. Hyde. I am Doctor Thomas. We were very
rude--"
"Oh, everybody comes here." The men recognized instantly in the
speaker's face, as well as in her voice, that education had set its stamp.
"Will you sit down and wait for her?"
"You overwhelm us." After an awkward moment the physician queried,
"How