The Spoilers | Page 9

continue as they were; and there was, after all,
so little that she was at liberty to tell them.
In the short time since meeting them, the girl had grown to like Dextry,
with his blunt chivalry and boyish, whimsical philosophy, but she
avoided Glenister, feeling a shrinking, hidden terror of him, ever since
her eavesdropping of the previous night. At the memory of that scene
she grew hot, then cold--hot with anger, icy at the sinister power and
sureness which had vibrated in his voice. What kind of life was she
entering where men spoke of strange women with this assurance and
hinted thus of ownership? That he was handsome and unconscious of it,
she acknowledged, and had she met him in her accustomed circle of
friends, garbed in the conventionalities, she would perhaps have
thought of him as a striking man, vigorous and intelligent; but here he
seemed naturally to take on the attributes of his surroundings, acquiring

a picturesque negligee of dress and morals, and suggesting rugged,
elemental, chilling potentialities. While with him--and he had sought
her repeatedly that day--she was uneasily aware of his strong
personality tugging at her; aware of the unbridled passionate flood of a
nature unbrooking of delay and heedless of denial. This it was that
antagonized her and set her every mental sinew in rigid resistance.
During Dextry's garrulous ramblings, Glenister emerged from the
darkness and silently took his place beside her, against the rail.
"What portent do you see that makes you stare into the night so
anxiously?" he inquired.
"I am wishing for a sight of the midnight sun or the aurora borealis,"
she replied.
"Too late for one an' too fur south for the other," Dextry interposed.
"We'll see the sun further north, though."
"Have you ever heard the real origin of the Northern Lights?" the
young man inquired.
"Naturally, I never have," she answered.
"Well, here it is. I have it from the lips of a great hunter of the Tananas.
He told it to me when I was sick, once, in his cabin, and inasmuch as he
is a wise Indian and has a reputation for truth, I have no doubt that it is
scrupulously correct.
"In the very old days, before the white man or corned beef had invaded
this land, the greatest tribe in all the North was the Tananas. The
bravest hunter of these was Itika, the second chief. He could follow a
moose till it fell exhausted in the snow and he had many belts made
from the claws of the brown bear which is deadly wicked and, as every
one knows, inhabited by the spirits of 'Yabla-men,' or devils.
"One winter a terrible famine settled over the Tanana Valley. The
moose departed from the gulches and the caribou melted from the hills

like mist. The dogs grew gaunt and howled all night, the babies cried,
the women became hollow-eyed and peevish.
"Then it was that Itika decided to go hunting over the saw-tooth range
which formed the edge of the world. They tried to dissuade him, saying
it was certain death because a pack of monstrous white wolves, taller
than the moose and swifter than the eagle, was known to range these
mountains, running madly in chase. Always, on clear, cold nights,
could be seen the flashing of the moonbeams from their gleaming
hungry sides, and although many hunters had crossed the passes in
other years, they never returned, for the pack slew them.
"Nothing could deter Itika, however, so he threaded his way up through
the range and, night coming, burrowed into a drift to sleep in his
caribou-skin. Peering out into the darkness, he saw the flashing lights a
thousand times brighter than ever before. The whole heavens were
ablaze with shifting streamers that raced and writhed back and forth in
wild revel. Listening, he heard the hiss and whine of dry snow under
the feet of the pack, and a distant noise as of rushing winds, although
the air was deathly still.
"With daylight, he proceeded through the range, till he came out above
a magnificent valley. Descending the slope, he entered a forest of
towering spruce, while on all sides the snow was trampled with tracks
as wide as a snow-shoe. There came to him a noise which, as he
proceeded, increased till it filled the woods. It was a frightful din, as
though a thousand wolves were howling with the madness of the kill.
Cautiously creeping nearer, he found a monstrous white animal
struggling beneath a spruce which had fallen upon it in such fashion as
to pinion it securely.
"All brave men are tender-hearted, so Itika set to work with his axe and
cleared away the burden, regardless of the peril to himself. When he
had released it,