Adventure, December 1914 — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Proof and jury. But it wasn’t. And such a danged thin story can’t be anything but true.” ‘‘But we got circumstantial evidence that says otherwise,” declaimed Clavin. ‘We got the proof. You can’t get over proof.” “Clavin, if you live as long in the North as I have, you'll find out different. You'll find out there’s things true as can’t be proved true. And I'll be shot and blud- geoned if here isn’t one of them. Sark’s story sure sounds true to me. Besides,”’ turning round to the prisoner, “I like his looks. What’s more, I like his voice. It rings right. Partner, I want to shake with you and go right on record here as believing you wouldn’t steal a bloody bean!’’ “Thanks, Bassett,’’ returned Sark sim- ply. ‘‘I’m glad there’s one man in the gang ready to talk that way.” He reached out his hand to shake, and was promptly flung face down upon Bas- sett’s sled by a violent jerk of Bassett’s arm. “Hold tight!’ whispered Bassett, falling on top of him and using his whip on his team as he fell. Like a thunderbolt the team sprang away under the lash and dashed up the trail. ax, SO RAPID and so unexpected was NSN Bassett’s move that his sled had == gained a great lead before the crowd even made a break. Then, uttering furi- ous cries, the men jumped for their own outfits. But the denseness of the crowd hampered free movement of teams and sleds. There were several jams before the chase was fairly started, and the lost minutes caused by those jams allowed Bassett and Sark to near the bend as their pursuers topped the first hog-back above the Cache. Looking down, the two saw a string of pitching sledges and undulating husky- backs writhing up the mountain-side. Above the string waved bushy tails and snake-like whips, and the shouts of the drivers rolled in a thunderous roar. “We got to make it, Sark!” Bassett kept reiterating through teeth clenched against the hurtling wind of their passage. ‘‘We got to make the slide before they come up. Then we'll get clear away over the Pass. Savvy?” ‘‘Sure,”’ answered Sark, his mouth open- ing with the pop of an uncorked bottle. ‘Wonder the yellow-haired fellow didn’t 105 think of that! But I guess the think was all scared out ~f him. Don’t spare the whip, Bassett!’’ Bassett flayed his huskies cruelly, and in: a dozen more leaps the team reached the bend. There was no time to waste in whoa- ing the animals. Going at full speed, Sark and Bassett simply flung themselves off sidewise, at the same time jerking the sledge over on its side so that it plowed a great furrow to its own anchorage. By the time it stopped, the two men were a hundred yards along the lip of the canyon which ran at an angle to the bend. They were continually feeling the rocks as they ran, and with one accord they abruptly stopped at a loose boulder. It was a huge, ice-scoured ball, balanced by some Titan’s hand upon the canyon edge. Sark and Bassett put shoulders to it, heaved and stepped swiftly back. Leaping and quiver- ing like a live thing, the missile plunged downward. It struck the first enormous bosses of the snow-slide with a weight of many tons. The far-stretching cornice of the slide curled over like a mile-long comber and, as a comber rushes shoreward, rushed down the canyon side. The drivers of the pursuing sleds saw it coming. They wheeled in their tracks and frantically whipped back to safety over the hog-back above Ten-Mile Cache. ‘“‘That puts the stopper on them,” exulted Bassett, watching. ‘‘No catching us now. They can’t bring dog teams over that stuff. And our trail’s clear ahead. We better be hitting it, Sark!’ “Wait, by thunder!” exclaimed Sark, suddenly halting him. ‘“‘What’s that going down? Look!—when the Northern Lights flash—between the slide rock and the tangle of spruce logs!”’ They stared at the breast of the whizzing slide, and the aurora, flaming abruptly, painted darkly against the white the out- lines of a man, five huskies, and a sled. Like a phantom dog-train it seemed, riding a ghost-trail through snow-swept space; but, when it hit a felled pine-tree, careened and came to rest upon the crest of the hog-back above Ten-Mile Cache, Sark and Bassett knew it for a material-outfit. They both turned and for a grim moment looked mutely into each other’s eyes. Then, leaving their team and speeding on their snowshoes, they dashed down over the chaos of snow, rocks and tangled logs that DOOK C©