There was a practical and
awakening inspiration in the manner of the little red-whiskered man's
invitation.
"I've been a damn fool," he confessed. "And I'm waiting."
The word was like a key opening a door through which a flood of things
began to rush in upon Alan. There were other fools, and evidently he had
been one. His mind went back to the _Nome_. It seemed only a few hours
ago--only yesterday--that the girl had so artfully deceived them all,
and he had gone through hell because of that deception. The trickery had
been simple, and exceedingly clever because of its simplicity; it must
have taken a tremendous amount of courage, now that he clearly
understood that at no time had she wanted to die.
"I wonder," he said, "why she did a thing like that?"
Stampede shook his head, misunderstanding what was in Alan's mind. "I
couldn't keep her back, not unless I tied her to a tree." And he added,
"The little witch even threatened to shoot me!"
A flash of exultant humor filled his eyes. "Begin, Alan. I'm waiting.
Go the limit."
"For what?"
"For letting her ride over me, of course. For bringing her up. For not
shufflin' her in the bush. You can't take it out of _her_ hide,
can you?"
He twisted his red whiskers, waiting for an answer. Alan was silent.
Mary Standish was leading the way up out of a dip in the tundra a
quarter of a mile away, with Nawadlook and Keok close behind her.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172