The Frontiersman Part 44

The little clock in the room struck midnight, and the watchers looked at each other in silence.

"It's all over," said Constance, gently withdrawing her hand. "The long trail is ended."

"And thank G.o.d," Keith replied, "that it's of no earthly mine the gold he's struck to-night."

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE CONSECRATION

"The ice is going! The ice is going!"

The cry rang through Kla.s.san late one afternoon, and produced a magical effect. Men dropped their frying-pans, axes, or whatever they had in their hands, and hurried to the river. The Indians swarmed from their lodges and raced along the bank, eager to see the stirring of the great, icy monster.

It was truly a marvellous spectacle which met their view. Far up the Yukon the vast field was moving irresistibly onward. From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e the wildest confusion reigned as the huge blocks of ice tore and jammed one another in their rapid rush. Now a ma.s.sive, sparkling fragment would be lifted into the air, held for a time as if in a vise, and then, released, would plunge with a roar beneath the surface, to emerge hundreds of feet below like some monster of the sea. Logs, swept down from tributary streams, snapped like pipe-stems in the merciless grip, while trees, torn roots and all from the banks, were whirled along like wisps of hay.

Where the banks were steep and high the crush was terrible, and the ice wedged and jammed as if struck by the sledge of Thor. The water rose accordingly, and every creek was inundated for miles back.

After the river became clear of ice anxious days of waiting followed.

When would the steamer come? That was the question on the lips of all.

At length their patience was rewarded, for early one morning a shout was raised that at last she was coming. Far away down stream a film of white smoke was to be seen curling up into the sky. Nearer and nearer it approached, and then the wheezy puffing could be faintly heard, sounding like the sweetest of music to the weary, waiting ones.

Steadily she approached, bravely stemming the racing current, until at length her smoke-stack and pilot-house appeared above the bank. She was a jaunty little craft, and had made a n.o.ble struggle up that northern stream, laden with supplies. Rocks had ripped and scarred her hull; floating ice had damaged her small stern wheel, and for several days she had been stranded upon a bar. But she had conquered every obstacle, and now port was in sight.

Ere long the eager watchers were able to discern the steamer's name, for the sun resting upon the pilot-house showed clearly "The Arctic" in brightly gilded letters. The captain and the pilot were at their posts; the deck-hands were sitting below, well forward, and the roaring furnace, with doors wide open, was throwing out its ruddy glow. Then a long, shrill blast ripped the air, followed by another, and yet another. Far from the distance came back the echo, Nature's answer and welcome to the little steamer.

For several hours Keith sat in the vestry of the church, which had been his dwelling place since his return from the Quelchie camp. He was surrounded by his mail. Papers and parcels of books strewed the floor, while on the table was a liberal supply of letters. He had been busily engaged upon the latter, and they brought him varied news; this of joy, that of sorrow.

He rose from the table, when his eye caught sight of an unopened letter lying on the floor which had fallen from the table. Quickly opening it, he ran his eyes over the contents, and as he did so his face flushed. He sat down again, re-read the letter, and then remained for some time in deep thought.

At length he arose and wended his way to the Radhurst cabin. Constance was not in. She had gone to Old Pete's grave, so her father told him.

Would he come in and wait for her return?

"No, thank you," Keith replied. "I shall stroll that way myself. I want to visit the grave, too."

As he drew near the spot where the prospector was lying he beheld Constance kneeling by the side of the mound, arranging some early wild flowers she had gathered that morning. How pretty she looked, and as Keith paused and watched her a pained feeling stole into his heart.

She would leave on the steamer to-morrow, and what would the place be like without her? He was going, too, but how could he come back and carry on his work without her helpful presence? Would she return, too?

The thought had often entered his mind. But how could he expect such a thing? How could he ask her to leave the comforts of civilization and dwell far off in the wilderness among a rude people? An involuntary groan escaped his lips, which caused Constance to start and to look suddenly up from her work.

"Oh, it is you, Mr. Steadman!" she remarked with a smile. "I didn't know any one was near."

"Miss Radhurst," said Keith suddenly, "will you please walk with me along this bank? I want to show you a very pretty scene."

"Yes, only let me finish my task. There, that is better, but oh, how soon the flowers fade! Now I am ready."

Side by side they wended their way along the bank, then down into a little valley close by the river, where a small stream purled through a grove of fir and cottonwood trees. Birds were flitting here and there, while a noisy squirrel, sitting on a high branch, chattered and scolded incessantly at the intruders into its domain.

"So you will leave in the morning?" said Keith, as if it were quite news to him.

"Yes. Everything is packed and ready."

"I am going, too."

"Yes, I know it, but you will come back again."

"Come back! Come back! Yes, I expect to come back, but to what?"

returned Keith almost bitterly.

"Why, Mr. Steadman, I thought it would be such joy for you to return to your flock. And besides, have you not great plans in store for the Quelchie Indians, and the new mining town, of which we have talked so often. I think you have much in store."

"There is much," came the slow reply. "There is vast work yet to be done. But a letter has filled me with serious thoughts, and I have come to you for advice."

"To me! For advice!"

"Yes. Here is the letter, a fair-sized one, is it not? Well, the long and the short of it is this: I have been asked to go to Toronto to take charge of a church there. It is a great surprise."

"And you will accept?" queried Constance, with a far-away look in her eyes.

"Shall I?"

"Why do you ask me? I am not able to judge. It is too important a matter for me to decide."

"I ask you because--because I love you," Keith stammered. "Oh, Miss Radhurst--Constance--bear with me," he pleaded, noticing her agitation.

"You have talked about my returning to this country. You have pictured it out in glowing colours, and I know that I should be enthusiastic.

But I cannot, for when I come back you will not be here. Wait, please wait a little longer!" he cried, as Constance endeavoured to speak.

"You know not how I love you. Ever since I saw you that wild night at Siwash Creek your image has been enshrined in my heart. Through that terrible trial, on the long trail, and out in the Quelchie camp, the story of which I have told you over and over again, you were ever with me. My love has intensified; it has become a burning fire. And oh, Constance! tell me, is there any response? Dare I hope for any return of my love?"

He was close to her now, looking pa.s.sionately into her face, from which all the colour had fled. Her eyes remained fixed upon the ground as she listened to his rapid words. Her heart was beating fast, and only with an effort could she control her voice.

"What has this to do with your decision about that church in Toronto?"

she slowly asked, with averted face.

"It means much. If you consent to become my--wife, I might accept that offer."

"And why?"

She turned as she spoke and looked him full in the eyes. In her words Keith detected a note of surprise and reproach.

"For--for your sake," he stammered.

"For my sake?"

"Yes. The life would not be so hard there. You would have comforts which you could not obtain here."

"And you would give up your grand work in the North, where you have had such success and so promising a future, for a--a woman? Surely you do not mean it!"

"But what would life be like here without the woman I love? It would be unbearable!"