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SYNOPSIS
THE STORY SO FAR: Janice Trent
runs away from wedding Ned Paxton,
rich, but a gay blade. Disguised as a
tubercular youth, she becomes camp sec
retary in Alaska where Bruce Harcourt
had been made chief, replacing Joe Hale
who had been going down hill. Janice
keeps out of sight of Bruce, who knows
her. But one day, while visiting the
cabin of the Samp sisters, who run the
Waffle Shop, he sees her asleep in a
chair. Jimmy Delevan, the secretary,
is the very Janice whom he had on
his last visit to New York Impulsively
advised not to marry Paxton. He de
cides camp is no place for a woman,
but Tubby Grant, his assistant, insists
ifs hard to get a good secretary in the
wilderness. Janice tells Bruce her story.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER V
‘‘And then?” asked Harcourt.
Janice went on:
”1 saw you. I clutched at your
suggestion that we go out for din
ner. Suppose my resentment proved
but a wooden sword of defense
against Ned Paxton’s persuasive
smile, suppose it broke, I asked
myself. If I were out of the house
when he came, its strength wouldn’t
be tested. And then as we talked
all my old liking for you, my trust
in you, came sweeping back. You
sold me Alaska. When you spoke
of the secretary you couldn’t get I
had an inspiration. After my first
year in Society with a large S, feel
ing as futile as a goldfish in a crys
tal bowl, bored to tears by the
ceaseless round of teas and dinners
and dances, of ushering here, sell
ing something there, I plunged into
a secretarial course and made good,
rather exceptionally good. Father
lost his money before he died. I
had the choice of three alternatives:
marriage, living on my brother, or
getting a job. The first was no
longer to be considered; the second
was an impossible situation. Why
should I not take that Alaskan posi
tion? Remember that I observed
that there would be dozens of girls
ready to go?”
“I do.”
‘‘Well, later in that sleepless
night I began to wonder why you
should have been the man out of
all the hundreds astir in the city to
appear at the dramatic moment to
pick up my slipper. You had ac
knowledged that you believed that
there was an unknown force in the
world which no one as yet under- ,
stood. That force wouldn’t bother
with me the second time, I argued,
if I were dumb enough to ignore its
attempt to help. Was this my chance
to earn a living, to escape the pub
licity which my cancelled wedding
would broadcast? Remember that
you said that young trees grow more
sturdy after transplanting?”
“They don’t bring plants from a
fcothouse to this wilderness and ex
pect them to grow.”
“Perhaps they don’t, Bruce, but
I’ll take a chance that I’ll flourish.”
Harcourt steeled himself against
her charm. “Go on! Explain Jim
my Delevan.”
“Mussolini! Holding my nose
down to the grindstone of facts,
aren’t you? I devoted two days to
thinking the situation through, while
«t the same time I superintended
the return of wedding presents. I
knew that so far as the work went
I could do it. I decided to try for
the position, to put thousands of
miles between myself and Ned Pax
ton.”
“Do you still love him so much?”
“I wonder now if it was love.
This northern country has done
things to my sense of values. To
proceed with the story of my young
life—l left New York stealthily—to
evade reporters—with my trousseau
—almost all of it—l remembered
what you said about the chic women
—and a few cherished possessions. I
had told Billy that I had broken with
Paxton. He was white with relief.
Then one day I slipped away leaving
a note, telling him not to try to find
me, that I was going away to stay
until after the excitement had blown
over, to be near an old friend—
that’s you.”
“Go on.”
“That was what I did. I went to
Seattle. It had seemed delightfully
easy when I planned it. Imagine
my amazed consternation when I
found that the agency at which I
applied would not send a girl to an
engineers’ camp in Alaska. A man
had been demanded and a man
would be sent. The agent glared at
me with such suspicion that I
scrunched like a gypsy worm be
neath the heavy heel of his disap
proval.”
“At least there is one man in the
business with sense."
“Don’t growl; you cramp my nar
rative style.” She disciplined a
nervous laugh. “Because my imag
ination began to project all sorts of
hazardous risks I determined to
crash through or perish in the at
tempt. I won’t give in to a fear
complex—ever again. I settled down
te constructive thinking. I remem
ered a newspaper story of an Eng-
Is “ woman who for years had
Passed herself off as a man, re
membered that because of the husky
n °te in my voice I had taken men’s
Parts in dramatics. Good old sub
conscious had done the trick. I
°Um apply as a boy. A dye for
y bair, a low drawn hat, Prince
' a^es style, tweed suit, a hectic.
“ super hectic flu sh on my choc'"* to i
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.) m:.:y Delevan cvji. 1.”
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“They don’t bring plants from the hothouse to this wilderness and
expect them to grow.”
Harcourt passed his hand over
his face as though by the gesture he
could smooth the perplexities from
his mind.
“And one darnfool agent fell for
you?”
“With a groan of relief he swal
lowed me, bait, hook and sinker,
signed me on the dotted line.”
“I have no words in which to
express my opinion of your infernal
recklessness in coming to this wil
derness!”
“You are doing fairly well. Stop
pacing the floor as though you were
an Alaskan bear and listen. I’ll ac
knowledge that for a moment the
silence, the wildness, the terrific ex
panse of land, sea and sky got
me by the throat. I hadn’t had the
slightest conception of what the
word Alaska stood for, this part of
it. When later I thought of the
clothes I had brought—trunks of
them—ordered, and designed for the
prospective wife of a millionaire,
the table linen and bedding I had
selected from my bountiful supply,
for the first time in my life I touched
the borderland of hysterics. I
laughed till I cried. But I licked
the fear-complex. I’m here.”
She rose laughing, exultant, love
ly. “And I have made good, yes?
Haven’t I, Mr. Grant?” she de
manded of the man who entered the
cabin with the husky at his heels.
The dog thrust his nose into the
girl’s hand. Every hair of Blot, the
black cat, bristled as though elec
trified.
“I’ll say you have. What’s he
going to do?”
Harcourt looked from Grant’s
round, smooth face, with its bellig
erent green eyes, to Janice’s. A
man like Paxton wouldn’t let such
a lovely girl slip away. She was
safe here. The outfit needed her.
“Jimmy Delevan goes.”
At Grant’s sharp protest and an
indignant exclamation from Janice
he held up his hand.
“Wait a minute! Your secretary
stays, Tubby, but only as Miss
Trent. And if she stays she will do
exactly as I say.” Ignoring her in
dignant protest, he went on: “Make
up your mind to it—otherwise there
is a boat going out tomorrow—and
you go with it.”
His jaw set grimly. How a femi
nine invasion could mess up a situa
tion! His turmoil of mind was re
flected in his voice.
“Does Jimmy Delevan go or does
Miss Trent stay?”
“Miss Trent stays,” the girl as
sured promptly.
“Then she is not to report for
work until after the boat goes out
tomorrow.” Without waiting for an
answer Harcourt crossed to the
door.
As he walked toward his office his
thoughts returned to Janice Trent.
She had run away from her pro
spective bridegroom because she
didn’t trust him, yet loved him so
much she didn’t dare stay. His lips
tightened.
The Hales would be off tomorrow.
Millicent was sweet and much to
be pitied, but she had claws, and he
had a conviction that she would
scratch deep and raggedly where
other women were concerned. She
had reigned as queen in this outpost
camp. She would not abdicate
gracefully.
At the door of his office he col
lided with a man coming out. His
red face registered relief.
“Been looking for you every
where, Chief.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Hale! Had a slight shock. We
radioed to Fairbanks to ask if we
should take him to the hospital by
plane. Answer came, ‘No! Keep
him there.’
“We can’t keep him here.”
“Search me. Mrs. Hale says he’ll
go tomorrow if he goes on a stretch
er—but the Doc will have the say.”
• • 0
“Where were we, Miss Trent?”
Theodore Grant Junior tilted back
in a chair beside the typewriter desk
in the administration office he and
Bruce Harcourt shared at headquar
ters.
Janice read from her note-book.
Grant’s voice went on and on till
steam-shovel gangs and ditching
gangs filed in endless procession
through the girl’s mind. She stopped
for an instant to flex her fingers.
Grant noted the surrephtious action.
' I ..i soi ry. You're such a bird
HOUSTON HOME JOURNAL, PERRY, GEORGIA
at it I forget that you’re not a ma
chine. That will do for the present.”
He departed. Tong bestowed a
moist doggy kiss upon Janice’s hand
before he followed at his heels.
She clasped her hands behind her
head, tipped back in her chair, re
garded the moss-chinked walls, the
old-time Yukon stove, which made
the modern filing cabinets seem bla
tantly nouveau riche, the high desk
at which the chief of the outfit
worked when he was in the office.
Through the open window she could
see the kennels and the huskies in
the yard, some rollicking, some
soaking in sunshine, some yelping.
Months had passed since the night
Bruce Harcourt had returned her
slipper, had brought vividly to mind
her childish adoration of him. When
he had stepped out upon the stage
of her life again he had seemed a
divine answer to her prayer to know
what was right to do. Their paths
crossed. Immediately the pattern
of her life was changed. Her trust,
her belief in him, in his power to
surmount obstacles, surged up from
her subconscious where it had lain
quiescent through the years. He
knew what he wanted and went aft
er it. Why shouldn’t she do the
same?
The way which had threatened to
be rough with complications had
smoothed out like a trotting-park
when she had seen the Samp sis
ters. She had told them the truth
at once. Gaunt Miss Martha’s ag
ate eyes had disappeared in a net
work of fine lines.
“If you’re bent on keeping this
job, tell Harcourt the truth, quick,
or he’ll send you back hummin’.
Keep clear of Hale; he might—well,
just keep clear of him, that’s all.”
Three weeks had passed since she
had discarded her disguise and gone
to the office in one of the sports suits
of her trousseau. The engineers had
greeted her with smiling courtesy,
the workmen with sheepish grins.
What explanation had Bruce Har
court made to them? She had her
own log house now, connected by a
covered passage with the Samp cab
in. It had gone “up as by magic
after Bruce had decided that she
might stay.
Bruce had commanded her to keep
out of sight till Hale had sailed and
then—Hale hadn’t sailed. The phy
sician from Fairbanks had decided
that it would be a risk to move him,
that he would be better where he
was, had warned him against ex
citement, letting his temper get the
best of him. Was his wife in love
with Bruce Harcourt? Was he in
love with her? Had Millicent Hale
been one of the lures which kept him
in this northern wilderness? Did she
resent the presence in camp of an
other woman of his class?
What did Bruce Harcourt think of
it all? He was rarely in the office.
One day he would be up the inlet
in the launch to inspect the damage
done by the rise of a stream, next
he would be off with a section-gang
and a steam-shovel,; perhaps before
forty-eight hours had elapsed he
would be miles away inspecting the
work of a ditcher. Not once had
he entered the Samp cabin which
had become the evening rendezvous
for the engineers. Why didn’t he
join them? Why did he treat Tubby
Grant’s secretary with distant cour
tesy? Her leisure time was full.
Jimmy Chester was teaching her to
shoot; Tubby was patiently training
her to be a fairly efficient photogra
pher; the geologist of the outfit pro
vided her with a hammer and
showed her how to get at the secrets
pebbles and rocks had concealed
within them. What fun she and
Bruce might have together.
The ring of the telephone brought
her iridescent day-dream and the
front legs of her chair down in a
simultaneous crash. She answered
the call.
“Office.”
“Hale speaking. Is this Miss
Trent?”
“Yes.”
“Will you take pity on a poor duf
fer who’s been forbidden to writ*
and take a letter or two for me?”
“Certainly, Mr. Hale. When?”
“At once if you will. I want it
ready to go in the first plane that
takes off.”
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\ A General Quiz 7
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-7”/ic Questions
1. In England what is meant by
a closed port?
2. The ancient Phoenicians lived
in a country now called what?
3. The hero in a picaresque nov
el usually is what?
4. What is the function of a pic
ador in a bull fight?
5. What is the ratio of snow to
rain measured in inches of fall?
6. To be eligible for the presi
dency of the United States a man
must be at least how old?
7. When were pheasants intro
duced in America?
8. Who was the prime minister
of England before he was 25?
9. Who said: “I don’t know the
method of drawing up an indict
ment against an whole people”?
The Answers
1. One situated upon a river.
2. Syria.
3. A rogue.
4. To excite the bull (a horse
man with a lance).
5. Roughly, 10 to 1; that is, it
takes about 10 inches of snow to
equal the water content of 1 inch
of rainfall
6. Thirty-five.
7. In 1790, by Richard Bache.
8. William Pitt (the younger).
9. Edmund Burke.
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Planning Ahead
He who every morning plans tha
transactions of the day, and fol
lows out that plan, carries a
thread that will guide him through
the labyrinth of the most busy
life. The orderly arrangement of
his time is like a ray of light which
darts itself through all his occu
pations.
But where no plan is laid, whera
the disposal of time is surren
dered merely to the chance of in
cidents, all things lie huddled
together in one chaos, which ad
mits of neither distribution nor re
view.—Hugo.
