III
And in this way things went along for a month,--Mrs. Eppingwell
striving to withhold the man from the Greek dancer's blandishments
against the time of Flossie's coming; Flossie lessening the miles
each day on the dreary trail; Freda pitting her strength against
the model-woman; the model-woman straining every nerve to land the
prize; and the man moving through it all like a flying shuttle,
very proud of himself, whom he believed to be a second Don Juan.
It was nobody's fault except the man's that Loraine Lisznayi at
last landed him. The way of a man with a maid may be too
wonderful to know, but the way of a woman with a man passeth all
conception; whence the prophet were indeed unwise who would dare
forecast Floyd Vanderlip's course twenty-four hours in advance.
Perhaps the model-woman's attraction lay in that to the eye she
was a handsome animal; perhaps she fascinated him with her old-
world talk of palaces and princes; leastwise she dazzled him whose
life had been worked out in uncultured roughness, and he at last
agreed to her suggestion of a run down the river and a marriage at
Forty Mile. In token of his intention he bought dogs from Sitka
Charley,--more than one sled is necessary when a woman like
Loraine Lisznayi takes to the trail, and then went up the creek to
give orders for the superintendence of his Bonanza mines during
his absence.
He had given it out, rather vaguely, that he needed the animals
for sledding lumber from the mill to his sluices, and right here
is where Sitka Charley demonstrated his fitness. He agreed to
furnish dogs on a given date, but no sooner had Floyd Vanderlip
turned his toes up-creek, than Charley hied himself away in
perturbation to Loraine Lisznayi. Did she know where Mr.
Vanderlip had gone? He had agreed to supply that gentleman with a
big string of dogs by a certain time; but that shameless one, the
German trader Meyers, had been buying up the brutes and skimped
the market. It was very necessary he should see Mr. Vanderlip,
because of the shameless one he would be all of a week behindhand
in filling the contract. She did know where he had gone? Up-
creek? Good! He would strike out after him at once and inform
him of the unhappy delay. Did he understand her to say that Mr.
Vanderlip needed the dogs on Friday night? that he must have them
by that time? It was too bad, but it was the fault of the
shameless one who had bid up the prices. They had jumped fifty
dollars per head, and should he buy on the rising market he would
lose by the contract. He wondered if Mr. Vanderlip would be
willing to meet the advance. She knew he would? Being Mr.
Vanderlip's friend, she would even meet the difference herself?
And he was to say nothing about it? She was kind to so look to
his interests. Friday night, did she say? Good! The dogs would
be on hand.
An hour later, Freda knew the elopement was to be pulled off on
Friday night; also, that Floyd Vanderlip had gone up-creek, and
her hands were tied. On Friday morning, Devereaux, the official
courier, bearing despatches from the Governor, arrived over the
ice. Besides the despatches, he brought news of Flossie. He had
passed her camp at Sixty Mile; humans and dogs were in good
condition; and she would doubtless be in on the morrow. Mrs.
Eppingwell experienced a great relief on hearing this; Floyd
Vanderlip was safe up-creek, and ere the Greek girl could again
lay hands upon him, his bride would be on the ground. But that
afternoon her big St. Bernard, valiantly defending her front
stoop, was downed by a foraging party of trail-starved Malemutes.
He was buried beneath the hirsute mass for about thirty seconds,
when rescued by a couple of axes and as many stout men. Had he
remained down two minutes, the chances were large that he would
have been roughly apportioned and carried away in the respective
bellies of the attacking party; but as it was, it was a mere case
of neat and expeditious mangling. Sitka Charley came to repair
the damages, especially a right fore-paw which had inadvertently
been left a fraction of a second too long in some other dog's
mouth. As he put on his mittens to go, the talk turned upon
Flossie and in natural sequence passed on to the--"er horrid
woman." Sitka Charley remarked incidentally that she intended
jumping out down river that night with Floyd Vanderlip, and
further ventured the information that accidents were very likely
at that time of year.
So Mrs. Eppingwell's thoughts of Freda were unkinder than ever.
She wrote a note, addressed it to the man in question, and
intrusted it to a messenger who lay in wait at the mouth of
Bonanza Creek. Another man, bearing a note from Freda, also
waited at that strategic point. So it happened that Floyd
Vanderlip, riding his sled merrily down with the last daylight,
received the notes together. He tore Freda's across. No, he
would not go to see her. There were greater things afoot that
night. Besides, she was out of the running. But Mrs. Eppingwell!
He would observe her last wish,--or rather, the last wish it would
be possible for him to observe,--and meet her at the Governor's
ball to hear what she had to say. From the tone of the writing it
was evidently important; perhaps-- He smiled fondly, but failed to
shape the thought. Confound it all, what a lucky fellow he was
with the women any way! Scattering her letter to the frost, he
mushed the dogs into a swinging lope and headed for his cabin. It
was to be a masquerade, and he had to dig up the costume used at
the Opera House a couple of months before. Also, he had to shave
and to eat. Thus it was that he, alone of all interested, was
unaware of Flossie's proximity.
"Have them down to the water-hole off the hospital, at midnight,
sharp. Don't fail me," he said to Sitka Charley, who dropped in
with the advice that only one dog was lacking to fill the bill,
and that that one would be forthcoming in an hour or so. "Here's
the sack. There's the scales. Weigh out your own dust and don't
bother me. I've got to get ready for the ball."
Sitka Charley weighed out his pay and departed, carrying with him
a letter to Loraine Lisznayi, the contents of which he correctly
imagined to refer to a meeting at the water-hole of the hospital,
at midnight, sharp.
