Adventure, August 1917 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

The Northwoman listened to me you would have settled this thing long ago. It’s that Gus Fleenor or I don’t know a wolf when I see it.” “Your intuition is worth a lot, aunty, and I can’t see who else it can be. But twice I have been there when he was away and I have looked high and low through his whole place, and the only bottles I found were one of medicine and one of vinegar. I’ve met his men when they were bringing in supplies from the railroad and have examined every pack without finding a bottle. I have kept track of everything that went into his place. When I had a provincial policeman up here in March we searched his post thoroughly from top to bottom and from end to end. He was perfectly willing, even glad to have us do it. Said he wanted it settled that he wasn’t the man. He even showed by his books how his receipts of fur have dropped off fifty per cent. and his sale of supplies by as much.” “What does he care how much he loses on fur and flour and pork, just so he sells the whisky,” retorted Mrs. Knox. ‘I knew that man was a wolf when I first laid eyes on him two years ago.” ‘“‘Who is this Fleenor?”’ Wallace whispered to Joan. “He is the man who owns the trading- post a half mile down the lake shore. -He came two years ago this Summer when I was last here. Macklem, who ran the post ever since I can remember, sold out to him.”’ “T know Fleenor is a devil,” vociferated Mrs. Knox. ‘‘This proves it. We spoke of him, and there he is.” _ She had been looking out toward the mouth of the bay and the others turned to see a canoe coming toward them, a single occupant in the stern. “Has he changed any?” asked Joan in a whisper. “No,”’ answered Stanton. “I’ve tried to be friendly with him, and he is cordial enough, I’ll admit, but there is nothing on which we can meet in the conversational line. I never saw another like him.” They were silent as the canoe drew near to the shore. Wallace, though lacking in that romantic feeling toward the far north which reaches so many, was nevertheless curious to see this owner of a trading-post. He had heard of such men, of their peculiar characteristics, and he looked forward to this meeting with no little interest. 2! The canoe touched the beach and the man stepped ashore. “Howdy, folks,’ he said with a short, quick duck of his head. : Stanton greeted him pleasantly, as did Joan, but there was only a stare from Mrs. Knox. To Wallace Searles came only the shock of incongruity. Where were the broad shoulders, the ineradicable stain of weather, the eyes, circled by sun wrinkles, clear and steady, the air of self-reliance, the spring of the forest step? This man was short, pudgy, flabby. His skin was pasty, un- healthy. He walked heavily, with an effort. Further, there was something familiar about him to Searles, not his features but his type. In perplexity the young man searched his memory but he found nothing. Then Fleenor spoke. “Vouse folks been having a little party, eh?” he exclaimed as he saw the bodies lying beyond the group and walked over to them. “Well, well, if it ain’t old Long Leg’s woman!” | He turned toward Stanton with a quick glance, his little eyes lighting suddenly. “Who croaked her, bo?” Instantly Wallace knew. The discordant note struck by this man was understood. The evidences of a character irreconcilable with his surroundings were explained by his words. He was no Northman, no free spirit of a wide, free land, no straight, towering, strong-limbed pine. He was rather a foul growth in a fair place, and instantly Wallace placed him. He was no new, interesting type. Hewas just the tough keeper of a tough dive in the toughest district of a great city. CHAPTER VI ‘ANOTHER BREED OF MEN AND WOMEN’”’ ‘“ DON’T know who is responsible for her death,” Stanton answered slowly. “The madman her husband became be- cause of drink, struck her with an ax, but the real murderer .is the white man who sold him the whisky.” “T suppose you'll have to send for the bulls.” Stanton looked at Fleenor questioningly. “He means the police,” explained Wallace. Gonlcsooksneom