Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Ambush of our forefathers rise to go forth on the Winter hunt, and in that time of calm, Fac- tor, your boats will arrive.” MISSOWA’S words proved true. In three days the wind seemed to ESS have blown out its lungs. The earth poised in a vacuum through which stole mellow lights, a haze of incense, chatter of birds, droning of bees, the gurgle of run- ning rapids. The snow steamed on the slopes, and the river ice pooled with black water, when all in one fleet, manned by York Factory Indians and steered by half- breeds, out of the dank lake vapor the York boats rose like hoary ghost craft. There had been a forest fire on the Hayes after the routing of the first boats up, they said, and these later ones had been forced to clear the stream of miles of half-burned trees. Carlisle was ready for them. When the passing of the Autumn season showed him -that there was no hope of getting the car- goes up-river by boat, he had made ready his toboggans, dog teams, snow-shoes and all his Winter gear. Now the transfer from boats to dog teams was arranged. Before all was completed the weather changed again. Some invisible hand loosed the leash that held the wind, opened the snowgates of the sky. The frosts bit like the stroke of steel. Ahead lay a foot of river and lake ice covered with sand-like drifts. At Chimawawin the Factor drew on Hampton for a fresh relay of men, dogs and toboggans and sent the first relay back to _ Grand Rapids to bring on the surplus stuff he had been compelled to leave behind for lack of outfits. At the Pas he repeated, sending back both relays, and out of the Pas on the home trail he marshaled a long train of toboggans each drawn by six hus- kies and loaded with one thousand pounds apiece. With a surge of joy he turned his face up- stream on the final relay. It was the Com- pany’s business, but his heart was not in it. His heart was up yonder on Sturgeon Lake where a mad girl would have finished by this time the food he had surreptitiously given her and no doubt be pining for more! Of a truth, Joan was pining for more. Like medicine in her blood the provisions Carlisle had given her brought back the roses to her cheeks, but it was only for a 495 little, and when the delicacies were done she failed more rapidly than before. Worry aided malnutrition. The failure to capture the Hudson’s Bay Company’s York boats chagrined her and her father beyond measure. For Wayne’s attempt was no mere hostile raid. It was a serious venture forced by the dire need of better sustenance, and the fact that Richelieu had outwitted them as well as Carlisle was bitter as hemlock drink. Wayne brooded over it continually, and his brooding finally brought him to a reluc- tant decision. “By the Doom, Joan, I'll have to send you out,” he told her, his eyes dwelling longingly upon her. ‘“We’ve never been separated before, but I think the time has come. It’s too late now to get you out by canoe, but on the first snow I’ll send you with Mason by dog team to St. Paul.” “No, no, father,” Joan passionately pro- tested. “I can’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t bear it alone at St. Paul. I'll fight it out with you. Oh! My dear, I want to. I must. I will. There,’ laughing her old gay laugh as she cast herself into his arms, ‘“‘there’s your defiant daughter, sir! But don’t worry. Ill be all right, father. Let us both be cheerful. I’m sure something unexpected will turn up.” She had no communication with Cumber- land House and knew nothing of the Hud- son’s Bay Company’s plans, for since the battle over the York boats the tension had tightened about all three posts and rivalry had grown more bitter. The gates were always closed now and a watch kept upon the palisades. Antagonism flared openly. The woods were full of surprises. By night daring raiders dashed out trying to put torch to their enemies’ stockades. By day sharp skirmishes occurred. Wood-gathering par- ties were put to flight and hunters fired at on lonely forest trails. Yet never in those eventful days had Joan seen or heard anything of Carlisle. She wondered at his seclusion, his silence. Per- haps he had been unable to secure more supplies for himself! But in any event he had intimated that he would not forget her if she were in need, and though she was not just sure that her pride would let her accept, nevertheless she resented the ab- sence of any overture. The weeks passed without any sign from Go 0)(0)6) ANG So(CO)