<h2 id="c16"><br/>CHAPTER XVI <br/>THE BARRIER</h2>
<p>The curiosity of the two girls knew no bounds
as they neared the strange abode. Who was
this man? Why did he live here all by himself?
How had he brought his pipe organ to this remote
spot? Whence had come those peculiar
skylights through which the yellow light
gleamed? Whence came the power for those
electric lights? How had this strange man
known of their coming? Or had he known?
Had he been expecting someone else and had
he, as a perfect host, pretended it was Marian
he had known to be at the door? These, and
many other questions, flashed through Marian’s
alert mind as she guided her deer over the
remaining distance and up to the entrance to
the cave-like structure.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div>
<p>Lights flashed on here and there as they passed
inside. A long corridor, walled on either side
by hewn logs, led to a stall-like room where was
food in abundance for their reindeer, and, what
was better still, perfect protection from any night
prowler.</p>
<p>Marian was wondering what sort of meal was
being prepared for them when they were at last
led into the large room. Here, on the side opposite
the pipe organ, great logs crackled merrily
in a fireplace half as wide as the room itself.</p>
<p>After taking their fur parkas, the host motioned
them to seats beside the fire. There,
charmed by the drowsy warmth, Marian experienced
great difficulty in keeping awake.
Strange fancies floated through her mind. She
fancied she was aboard a ship at sea; the walls
about her were the walls of her state-room; the
huge beams above, the ship’s beams; the strange
cupola affairs above, the lights to her cabin.</p>
<p>As she shook herself free from this fancy, she
realized that aside from the fireplace, the inside
of the room was very like a cabin of a high
class schooner.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div>
<p>“It must all come from some vessel,” she
reasoned. “Even the lighting fixtures look as if
they had been taken from a ship. I wonder what
ship, and why?”</p>
<p>She thought of stories she had read of beach
combers who wrecked ships by displaying fake
shore lights on stormy nights that they might
gather the wreckage from the beach. For a
moment she fancied this bearded patriarch playing
such a role. Finding this too absurd even for
fancy, she shook herself free from it.</p>
<p>“Food,” she murmured to herself, “I’m
ravenously hungry. He spoke of putting on the
birds. I wonder what he could have meant?”</p>
<p>She did not have long to wait. A moment
later there came to her nostrils the delicious
aroma of perfectly brewed coffee. Mingled with
it were various savory odors which gave promise
of a rich meal.</p>
<p>“You are not yet fully warmed,” said their
host, “so you may eat by the fire.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div>
<p>He was pushing before him a tea-wagon of
wonderful design and craftsmanship. This was
fairly creaking under its load of chinaware of
exquisite design, and silver which did not require
a second look to tell that it was sterling.
Marian barely avoided a gasp at sight of it.</p>
<p>If the service was perfect, the food was no
less so. Four ptarmigan, those wonderful “quail
of the Arctic,” broiled to a delicious turn, were
flanked with potatoes, gravy, peas and apple
sauce. The desert was blueberries preserved in
wild honey.</p>
<p>“Only idleness or indifference,” smiled their
host as he caught their looks of appreciation,
“can hinder one from securing appetizing foods
in any land.”</p>
<p>“And now,” he said as they finished, “there
are questions you may wish to ask; information
that you may wish to impart.”</p>
<p>“Why—we—” Marian began in some confusion.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_135">[135]</div>
<p>He interrupted her with a wave of the hand.
“It will all keep until morning. This habit
young people have, of sitting up talking all hours
of the night because life seems too exciting for
sleep, is all wrong. You are in need of rest.
‘Everything in its good time’ is my motto. Fortunately
my guest room is warm. The fire is not
yet burned out. Last night I had the honor of
furnishing a night’s lodging to the Agent of our
Government.”</p>
<p>“The Agent?” Marian asked in surprise.</p>
<p>“Yes. He came up here to ask me about the
lay of the land above here. I think,” there was a
merry twinkle in his eye, “that I may lay claim
to being the oldest resident of this town. No
doubt I was able to give him some valuable information.”</p>
<p>“And he is—is gone?” Marian gasped.</p>
<p>“Left this morning. Why? Did you wish to
see him? Surely—yes, you would. Being connected
with the reindeer business, you would.
Unfortunate that you did not reach here a few
hours earlier. He left on foot. The trail around
the rapids is rough. He did not try to bring his
dogs and sleds through. Left them with his
driver at the foot of the rapids. Well enough
that he did. Couldn’t have made it.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_136">[136]</div>
<p>Upon realizing that she had missed the man
she had come so far to see, Marian could have
burst into tears.</p>
<p>“You may find him at the Station, though,”
her host assured her. “I believe he means to
stay there a day or two. His dogs are footsore
from travelling over crusted snow.”</p>
<p>Marian’s heart gave a leap of joy. But what
was this about the trail and the rapids?</p>
<p>“Did—did you say that one could not pass
over the trail with a sled?” she asked in the
calmest tone she could command. “Are the
rapids not yet frozen over?”</p>
<p>“Frozen?” he stared at her incredulously.
“Have you not heard them? Ah, then, you
came from up stream. The forest shuts out the
sound. Slip on your parka and come with me,
and you shall hear. It is grand music, that ceaseless
rush and roar, that beating of waters and
tumbling of ice.”</p>
<p>It may have seemed glorious to the old man,
but to Marian, who listened to the wild tumult of
waters, it was frightening and disheartening.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div>
<p>“Can a boat run the rapids?” she asked,
though she knew the question was foolish and
that no boat could run them.</p>
<p>“None ever has.”</p>
<p>“Can—can a sled pass over the trail above?”</p>
<p>“None has. None can. The way is too
rough; the trees too closely crowded together.
Dogs, reindeer, men, yes; but sleds, no.”</p>
<p>“How far is it to the station?” Marian faltered.</p>
<p>“Three days journey.”</p>
<p>“Are there any houses on the way?”</p>
<p>“None.”</p>
<p>“Then, without our sleds, we would not dare
undertake the journey.”</p>
<p>“No. It would not do. You would starve or
freeze.”</p>
<p>It required all Marian’s power of will to remain
standing as she faltering said; “Then we
are defeated. We—we must turn back.
We—” She could not go on.</p>
<p>The aged man studied her face for a moment.
Then quietly he asked:</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div>
<p>“Is it very important that you get to the station;
that you see the Agent?”</p>
<p>“Oh, very, very important! We—”</p>
<p>Again he motioned for silence. “Do not tell
me now. I think it can be arranged that your
sleds may pass the rapids. It <i>shall</i> be arranged.
I promise it. Come, you are worn out. It is
time you should sleep.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div>
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