The March of the White Guard | Page 8

his breast, and let it rest there for a moment. The
look became certain and steady, the hand was drawn out, and in it was
a Book of Common Prayer. Upon the fly-leaf was written: "Jane Hume,
to her dear son Jaspar, on his twelfth birthday."
These men of the White Guard were not used to religious practices,
whatever their past had been in that regard, and at any other time they
might have been surprised at this action of their leader. Under some

circumstances it might have lessened their opinion of him; but his
influence over them now was complete. They knew they were getting
nearer to him than they had ever done; even Cloud-in-the-Sky
appreciated that. Hume spoke no word to them, but looked at them and
stood up. They all did the same, Jeff Hyde leaning on the shoulders of
Gaspe Toujours. He read first, four verses of the Thirty-first Psalm,
then followed the prayer of St. Chrysostom, and the beautiful collect
which appeals to the Almighty to mercifully look upon the infirmities
of men, and to stretch forth His hand to keep and defend them in all
dangers and necessities. Late Carscallen, after a long pause, said
"Amen," and Jeff said in a whisper to Gaspe Toujours: "That's to the
point. Infirmities and dangers and necessities is what troubles us."
Immediately after, at a sign from the sub-factor, Cloud-in-the-Sky
began to transfer the burning wood from one fire to the other until only
hot ashes were left where a great blaze had been. Over these ashes pine
twigs and branches were spread, and over them again blankets. The
word was then given to turn in, and Jeff Hyde, Gaspe Toujours, and
Late Carscallen lay down in this comfortable bed. Each wished to give
way to their captain, but he would not consent. He and
Cloud-in-the-Sky wrapped themselves in their blankets like mummies,
covering the head completely, and under the arctic sky they slept alone
in an austere and tenantless world. They never know how loftily
sardonic Nature can be who have not seen that land where the mercury
freezes in the tubes, and there is light but no warmth in the smile of the
sun. Not Sturt in the heart of Australia with the mercury bursting the
fevered tubes, with the finger- nails breaking like brittle glass, with the
ink drying instantly on the pen, with the hair fading and falling off,
would, if he could, have exchanged his lot for that of the White Guard.
They were in a frozen endlessness that stretched away to a world where
never voice of man or clip of wing or tread of animal is heard. It is the
threshold to the undiscovered country, to that untouched north whose
fields of white are only furrowed by the giant forces of the elements; on
whose frigid hearthstone no fire is ever lit; where the electric phantoms
of a nightless land pass and repass, and are never still; where the magic
needle points not towards the north but darkly downward; where the
sun never stretches warm hands to him who dares confront the terrors

of eternal snow.
The White Guard slept.

IV
"No, Captain; leave me here and push on to Manitou Mountain. You
ought to make it in two days. I'm just as safe here as on the sleds, and
less trouble. A blind man's no good. I'll have a good rest while you're
gone, and then perhaps my eyes will come out right. My foot's nearly
well now."
Jeff Hyde was snow-blind. The giant of the party had suffered most.
But Hume said in reply: "I won't leave you alone. The dogs can carry
you as they've done for the last ten days."
But Jeff replied: "I'm as safe here as marching, and safer. When the
dogs are not carrying me, nor any one leading me, you can get on faster;
and that means everything to us, now don't it?"
Hume met the eyes of Gaspe Toujours. He read them. Then he said to
Jeff: "It shall be as you wish. Late Carscallen, Cloud-in-the-Sky, and
myself will push on to Manitou Mountain. You and Gaspe Toujours
will remain here."
Jeff Hyde's blind eyes turned towards Gaspe Toujours, who said: "Yes.
We have plenty tabac."
A tent was set up, provisions were put in it, a spirit-lamp and matches
were added, and the simple menage was complete. Not quite. Jaspar
Hume looked round. There was not a tree in sight. He stooped and cut
away a pole that was used for strengthening the runners of the sleds,
fastened it firmly in the ground, and tied to it a red woollen scarf, used
for tightening his white blankets round him. Then he said: "Be sure and
keep that flying."

Jeff's face was turned