<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="break">
<h2 >CHAPTER XXV</h2>
<p class="pch">A SNOW-BLIND MAN</p>
<p class="drop-cap03"><span class="beg">WHEN</span> the next day dawned, a soft
warm day, holding in it all the promise
of the Northland spring, Dick Bracknell
was in no condition to travel. He was clearly
much weaker, and at times he lapsed into delirium
during which the hearts of two of those with him
were wrung. The feverish babble was of nothing
relating to his life in the North, but about his boyhood
at Harrow Fell, and of his first meeting with
Joy. More than once Joy was unable to restrain
her tears, and as the day wore on, it was evident
that the strain was telling upon her.</p>
<p>Several times Roger Bracknell begged her to
leave the sick man and rest, but she shook her head.</p>
<p>“No,” she whispered on the last occasion.
“No! Look at him. It will not be very long. I
think I should like to be with him, when—when—— It
will help him, you know,” she concluded hastily.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “you are quite right. He
told me in that lucid interval that these moments
with you by his side were among the happiest in his
life.”</p>
<p>She looked down at the drawn face, her eyes
flooding with sudden tears. She did not love him,
but there was a great pity in her heart for the wayward
man whose life had taken the wrong turn,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</SPAN></span>
and whose nature as she now knew was as full of
generous good as of desperate evil. She prayed
for him silently, and leaving her with bowed head,
Roger Bracknell walked slowly away.</p>
<p>At the outer edge of the camp he met Sibou.
The latter waved a hand towards the river, on the
frozen surface of which tiny streams of water were
beginning to run.</p>
<p>“It is the spring,” he said. “If we do not leave
today the ice may not hold.”</p>
<p>“We cannot leave today, Sibou.”</p>
<p>“No,” replied the Indian. “We wait for death.
Is it not so?”</p>
<p>“It is so!” agreed the corporal.</p>
<p>“And tomorrow comes the spring and new life,”
said the Indian thoughtfully. “That is the way,
always death on the heels of life, and life on the
heels of death.” He jerked his head towards the
camp. “The woman nurses the man who dies,
what is she to him?”</p>
<p>“She is his wife.”</p>
<p>“But she loves him not. I have watched her, I
have seen the light in her eyes.” He broke off
abruptly, and again waved his hand towards the
river. “But the spring comes, and with the spring
comes life and the kindling of the heart.”</p>
<p>Roger Bracknell looked towards the river. He
knew that the Indian’s words were true, but he
offered no comment on them. Instead he watched
the water running on the ice, and after a minute he
asked abruptly, “How long will the ice hold,
Sibou?”</p>
<p>The Indian shook his head.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“That is not to be told.” He pointed across the
river to where a tributary stream flowed into the
main river. “The water comes down there and
adds to the strength of this. It may break the ice
here, and spread over the surface. Listen.”</p>
<p>The corporal listened. The air was full of an
indescribable sound, a moaning and growling,
quite different to the sound of the soft wind in the
trees.</p>
<p>“Already the water fights for the mastery,” said
Sibou, “and tomorrow it may have won.”</p>
<p>“No—today!” cried the corporal quickly, as
there came a sudden crash far out in front, and the
next moment a gaping fissure showed in the ice.</p>
<p>“Yes, today!” assented the Indian as he
watched. “That is the first, and there will be
others. The break up has come. The spring has
arrived.”</p>
<p>A cry from the camp startled them, and divining
what had happened, the white man began to
run. When he reached the fire he found Joy
standing by his cousin. Her eyes were burning with
tears. He looked at her, and as their eyes met,
she answered the question in his.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said, “a moment ago. He knew me
again at the last.”</p>
<p>Roger Bracknell took a step forward, and
looked into the still face of his cousin. To him it
seemed extraordinarily peaceful, and the half-smile
on the lips caught and held by death told its
own story.</p>
<p>“He was happy in his death,” he said, “happier
than in life. Poor old Dick!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>He turned away, leaving Joy alone with the
dead for a little while. He knew that his cousin’s
death meant release for her, and for himself also,
since it would remove the bands of silence from
him. But in that moment he refused to think of
that aspect of the matter, and as with the help of
Sibou he bent a couple of young spruces, that his
cousin’s body might have the aerial sepulchre
practised by the Northern tribes, he reflected how
much of good there was in Dick, and how many
such there are who having taken the wrong turn
miss the full purpose of life.</p>
<p>Half an hour later the dead man was lashed to
the young trees which were released, carrying the
body high in the air. Such portions of the burial
service as Roger could remember were recited,
and then with Joy, he turned towards the camp.</p>
<p>“We will start in an hour, if you like,” he said.
“The ice is not very good, but it will be worse
tomorrow, and we can get some way towards
Chief Louis’ camp. Once there, ice or no ice will
not matter. We shall be able to get canoes.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said, “Yes, in an hour. There is no
reason why we should linger here now.”</p>
<p>They started before the hour was out; and
travelled hard until the edge of dark, avoiding
fissures which were ever increasing, and pitched
camp several miles away from their last resting-place.
In the night the corporal was awakened
by a crash somewhere on the river in front, and
in the morning he knew that sled-travelling was
over till the Northland winter should once more
bind the rivers. A stream of water was flowing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</SPAN></span>
on the surface of the ice. There were fissures
everywhere, and a distant rumble told him that
somewhere the ice was breaking up, Sibou came
and joined him, and together they looked across
the river. Something caught the Indian’s keener
eyes, something moving. He pointed it out to
Bracknell.</p>
<p>“There is a man there. He is coming this
way!” The corporal looked intently for a moment,
then he agreed. “Yes, it is a man. He is
alone. He has no dogs.”’</p>
<p>“Maybe they are lost,” said the Indian.</p>
<p>“He will never get across,” commented Bracknell,
“and we cannot warn him. He will have to
return.”</p>
<p>The Indian shaded his eyes against the rising
sun and watched, then he said, “He walks
strangely.”</p>
<p>Bracknell himself thought so. The man, whoever
he was, seemed to be making an erratic course,
and more than once just skirted a fissure. Twenty
minutes passed and then the two were joined by
Joy and her foster-sister. “What are you watching?”
asked Joy.</p>
<p>The corporal pointed to the man, now little
more than a hundred yards away. Joy looked and
cried out, and just at that moment Sibou started.</p>
<p>“The man is blind,” he said. “See how he
walks, hands in front groping for the way.
Behold! He did not see the ice.”</p>
<p>The stranger, whoever he was, had stumbled
over a cake of ice thrown out on the surface, and
as he picked himself up, he took his next step into<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</SPAN></span>
a stream running fast over the yielding surface.
He withdrew the foot instantly and half turned
to try another course.</p>
<p>“It is the snow-blindness,” said Sibou. “He
cannot see. He only feels, and there is danger
everywhere for him.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” cried Joy, “can nothing be done?”</p>
<p>“Something can be tried,” answered the corporal,
beginning to get down the bank.</p>
<p>Sibou followed him, and they moved towards the
blinded man in imminent risk of their lives. The
ice seemed to be in movement everywhere, and the
noise out on the river was increasing. Even as
they stepped on the ice, it broke loose from the
bank, and the rescuers felt it shake beneath their
feet. Cracks appeared through which the water
spurted, but they moved forward, for both were
aware that the ice beneath them might be thrown
into the air as by some living monster and themselves
thrown into the swirling water.</p>
<p>A providence seemed to watch over the blind
man. He had turned again and now was running
towards them. With a luck that was almost uncanny
he passed a couple of yawning cavities from
which the water welled, and once, he put his foot on
emptiness, he leaped from the other foot, and
crossed the danger before him at a bound. They
were but fifteen yards apart, when suddenly Sibou
stood still and gripped his companion’s arm.</p>
<p>“Behold!” he said quickly. “The man who
was with me when the trail was blown up before
Mr. Gargrave.”</p>
<p>Roger Bracknell also stood still, and looked at<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</SPAN></span>
the figure shambling towards them. There was
a distraught look on the man’s face, a madness of
fear that convulsed it, but in spite of that Roger
Bracknell recognized it. It was the face of Adrian
Rayner.</p>
<p>Whilst he stood there, stunned, and held inactive
by the recognition, there was a sound of splintering
at the corporal’s feet, and instinctively both he
and Sibou leaped backward. The ice parted, and
a little lane of turgid water appeared between them
and the snow-blind man. The latter still came on.
Roger Bracknell watched him like a man hypnotized;
but when Rayner had almost reached the
place where the fracture had occurred, he cried
out suddenly, in agonized warning—</p>
<p>“Look out, Rayner! For God’s sake, look out!”</p>
<p>His cry must have been heard by Rayner, for the
latter halted suddenly, and threw up his arm as if
to ward off a blow. Then he gave a great cry of
fear, and turning suddenly began to run away from
the bank. He ran fast, helped by some great impulse
of fear, but he ran only a little way. A
stretch of open water appeared in the line he followed,
and unconscious of its existence, he ran
straight into it. They saw the plunge, and
watched painfully. A moment later his head appeared
above the water, and disappeared again,
as the rush of water hurled him forward. There
was no further sign of him, and as delay was
dangerous both of them turned and raced for the
bank.</p>
<p>As they gained it, the corporal saw a look of
horror on Joy Gargrave’s face.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Who was the man?” she asked. “I seemed to
recognize something about him.”</p>
<p>“It was Adrian Rayner.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I guessed it! I knew it! You recognized
him when you stopped?”</p>
<p>“Sibou recognized him first,” replied the corporal
meaningly.</p>
<p>“Sibou! I did not know that he—— Oh, I
remember. He was with the man who was responsible
for my father’s death.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and Adrian Rayner was the man.”</p>
<p>Joy was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on
the place where her cousin had met his death.
There was an enigmatic look in them which made
Roger Bracknell wonder. Then she spoke again.</p>
<p>“You halted when you recognized him? You
would not help him?”</p>
<p>“It was not that,” he answered quickly. “It
was just amazement that held me for a minute,
amazement and a feeling of horror that my suspicions
were proved right, though for weeks I have
been sure that Adrian Rayner was the guilty man.
He would have stepped into open water if I had not
suddenly cried out. I think he heard me, I think
he may have recognized my voice. He may have
been startled, though I think he was afraid at hearing
his name called out when he was without knowledge
that any one was near. As you saw he turned
and ran, but I saw his face as he stopped at my
hail, and it was stark with fear.”</p>
<p>After a few seconds the girl spoke again, her
eyes still on the tumult of the river.</p>
<p>“He was alone,” she said, “Snow-blind! I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</SPAN></span>
wonder how that came about. He had two
Indians with him when he started.”</p>
<p>“He may have lost them, have wandered from
the camp or something of that sort. Or they may
have deserted him, carrying away the outfit. In
any case what has happened, terrible as it is, is
probably for the best. Rayner’s death saves him
a trial for murder, and the past need not be raked
up.”</p>
<p>Joy nodded, and looked once more to where the
broken floes were grinding each other in the waters
which had engulfed the guilty man.</p>
<p>“It is the judgment of God.”</p>
<p class="pc ls4">*****</p>
<p>It was five and a half months later when Roger
Bracknell, fresh from England, walked up the
road from the river leading to North Star Lodge.
There was a touch of frost in the air, and already
the wild geese were moving southward, and he
heard their honk! honk! as they flew over his head
for the warmer lands of the South, but he never so
much as lifted his eyes to look at them. His gaze
was fixed on the place where the road turned,
eagerly expectant, and from behind came the voyageurs’
song as his men unpacked the boat.</p>
<p class="ppq6 p1">“What is there like to the laughing star,<br/>
Far up from the lilac tree?<br/>
A face that’s brighter and finer far,<br/>
It laughs and it shines, ci, ci!—”</p>
<p class="pn1">The honk of the geese overhead for a moment
drowned the words, but they reached him again a
moment later.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="ppq6 p1">“—Till I go forth and bring it home,<br/>
And house if within my door—<br/>
Row along, row along home, ci, ci!”</p>
<p class="pn1">Then he turned the corner of the road. A girl
was hurrying between the long lines of trees. It
was Joy Gargrave. There was no laughter on
her face, but the blood was warm in it, and her eyes
were shining.</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear!” she said, half sobbing with
gladness as he took her in his arms.</p>
<p>“At last,” he whispered, then together they
turned and walked towards the lodge.</p>
<p>“Babette?” he inquired.</p>
<p>“She is well!” Then Joy laughed gaily. “She
had the good sense to remain indoors. You know
she is going to be married.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>“It has been arranged a long time, before ever
you came to North Star, but the little minx only
told me the other day, when she knew that you
were really coming back.”</p>
<p>“Who is the man?”</p>
<p>“An American engineer, James Sherlock. He
came here once or twice in the old days when my
father was alive. He is a very fine man.”</p>
<p>“I hope she will be happy.”</p>
<p>“There is no doubt of that,” answered Joy, “but
she will not be as happy as we shall. But what
news is there from England? My uncle?”</p>
<p>Roger Bracknell’s face grew a little graver as he
looked at her, then he said quietly, “I think I had
better tell you at once, and dismiss the unpleasantness<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</SPAN></span>
once and for all.... I told him of his son’s
death, without telling him all that lay behind it.
It was a great shock to him—and for a little time
he broke down completely. He seemed to regard
it as in some way a judgment on himself, and he
made a confession to me.”</p>
<p>“A confession!” Joy stopped and looked at him
with eyes that were wide with fear. “You do not
mean that he knew that Adrian intended——”</p>
<p>“He knew nothing, not even of your marriage
with Dick, and even now he does not know that
your father’s death was anything but accidental.
He was, I could tell, in complete ignorance of the
real object of his son’s journey here, and thought
it had to do with his confessed infatuation for you.
The confession he made had to do with his financial
affairs. It appears that he has speculated rashly,
that his affairs have become very much involved,
and that absolute control of your money was
needed to save him.”</p>
<p>“I gave it,” cried Joy.</p>
<p>“Yes! and it did save him. Some of his ventures
turned out very well after all, but that matters
nothing now. Adrian was the apple of his
eye, and his loss, as I said, he regarded as a personal
judgment on himself as he had first sent
Adrian to North Star in the hope that the match
he desired would come to pass.”</p>
<p>“But he did not know of Dick. He was not
party to my cousin’s schemes——”</p>
<p>“I am sure he was in absolute ignorance.”</p>
<p>“Thank God! He was always kind to me, and
I could not bear to think that he was in my cousin’s<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</SPAN></span>
confidence. He wanted me to marry Adrian, but
he thought that I was free.”</p>
<p>“He is going out of business, and I have arranged
with him to transfer your affairs to a firm
that manages the Harrow Fell estates. When we
go to England——”</p>
<p>“When will that be?” asked Joy quickly.</p>
<p>Roger Bracknell smiled. “There is no hurry.
I thought I might winter up here—that is if you are
agreeable.”</p>
<p>She looked at him reproachfully. “You know——”</p>
<p>“Wait! You have not heard everything, Joy!
Down the river I passed the missionary priest,
Father Doherty. He is going North—racing the
winter. He knows he has already lost the race,
and that he will have to finish his journey on the
ice. I ventured to persuade him to break the
journey at the Lodge, and he agreed to do so. It
was very audacious of me——”</p>
<p>“Why should it be audacious? Travellers are
always welcome at North Star.”</p>
<p>“Well,” he answered smilingly, “he is a priest
you know.”</p>
<p>For a couple of seconds she looked at him
wonderingly, then comprehension came to her, and
a blush mantled her face.</p>
<p>“It <i>was</i> very audacious of you,” she said.
“Very! But—but——”</p>
<p>“But what?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I am glad that—that——”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“That Father Doherty is a priest.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>She laughed with gladness as he stooped to kiss
her; and when they resumed their way, she asked,
“When will he arrive?”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow, I think.”</p>
<p>“So soon?”</p>
<p>“No—so long!” he corrected smilingly.</p>
<p>“And we shall have a winter honeymoon at
North Star?”</p>
<p>“Yes!”</p>
<p>“That,” she said, “will be delightful!”</p>
<p>And as she spoke, through the trees the Lodge
appeared in sight, and to them drifted a fragment
of the boatman’s song—</p>
<p class="ppq6 p1">“—Till I go forth and bring it home,<br/>
And enter and close my door—<br/>
Row along, row along home, ci, ci!”</p>
<p class="pc4 lmid">THE END</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />