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PAGE SIX
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CHAPTER I j
It was only a big log cabin, but ■ f
it served as an eating place and ’
dance hall; and in those days,
French Pete was reputed the (
best cook in the North country.
There was a savory odor of cook- i (
ing irom the kitchen, and aj i
scrape of fiddles from the far' ■
end of the door, where the voy- I
ageurs were dancing the North
ern minuet while half a dozen
throaty voices bawled songs of
the trail.
The woman in the corner, she
who sat with her back to them
all, never once looked around.
She had opened her heavy fur
coat but the close lynx cap was
still low down over brow and
hair. O’Hara, who had been
watching her curiously, made
out nothing but the curve of her
cheek; and by that he knew she
was young. He knew, too, that
she tried to eat, and failed; she
thrust -aside her cup of tea, and I
her hands clasped tight in her
lap.
Details like these could not es
cape Sergeant O’Hara of the
Mounted, one of the keenest
manhunters who ever took the
trail. “The best man I’ve got!”
the chief had said of him, and
meant it.
Some individuals are born
manhunters. O'Hara was one.
There was in his makeup the
element of recklessness, and the
keen, swift, relentless instinct
that holds its aim despite all be-|
fogging circumstance. He miss
ed little even in this long smoky
room.
His eyes went back now to the
woman opposite. He could not
even glimpse her profile, but
there was something about her
that bid for attention and made
him instinctively aware that
things had happened since last
he looked in her direction. Her
attitude was unchanged, the un
tasted tea still stood before her,
but he knew that she was weep
ing silently and bitterly!
The shouts oi the dancers rose
in odd confusion, a gale of wind
blew the door open, and the
smoky lamps flared. The woman
started and stared over her
shoulder with wide frightened
eyes, and Sergeant Michael;
O’Hara of the Mounted caught
his breath involuntarily. Never
had he seen a woman’s face like )
hers beiore! Beauty? A poor
word. Perhaps she had little
claim to it as classic standards
go, yet in her face, her eyes,
there lurked something deeper
than beauty, something that
stirred, made uneasy and threat-,
ened a man’s soul. O Hara ■
glimpsed only the countenance)
she turned; glimpsed the fath
omless eyes, the white oval of
face, the wide tremulous mouth.
He thrust aside his own cup.
The hand which drew a lighted
match to his cigarette perform
ed that service automatically,)
unwatched. His glance did not
lower. Second sight, instinct,
the terrible, penetrating analy
sis of his official self, had him
in their grip! That woman—
A voice spoke suddenly at his j
elbow. “The chief wants you at
once, Sergeant!”
The summons! O’Hara knew
what is meant; none better. He
rose to follow on the heels of the
messenger. As he buttoned his
mackinaw his eyes did not waver
from a chill, almost threatening
scrutiny of the soft gray lynx
cap opposite. That was all he
saw, for the head beneath it was
bowed.
He flung the door open and j
strode out into the bitter cold.
Some unanalyzed instinct had
stayed the natural zest of the
born manhunter. Something had ■
passed between them in that one
brief look which had thrown a
shield between her apparent sor
row and his own urge toward
merciless inquisition. He could
not force even his searching gaze
upon her. He had seen in her
eyes a terrified appeal for mercy
such as one glimpses in the eyes
of a hunted animal, at bay and
lost. And her face? He tried to
thrust it out of his mind. He
never had let a woman turn him
from his course. This one would,
not; rather she might point an
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object for the attention of the,.
Mounties, he reflected grimly.
Such women brought trouble!
with them like an aura.
The night was full of stars, the '
cold white Northern stars. A bit-'
ing wind drove in his face; he
could hear it singing in the wires!
over his head. Before him lights:
gleamed in the windows of . the
barracks, behind him he still
head the scrape of fiddles. He
walked fast. He was summoned;
it was duty to obey instantly,
and—he was glad to go. He want
ed work, swift, dangerous work,
something to stir his pulses. The
past week of inaction had been
distasteful, if necessary. The
days of regular food and rest
had brought back snap to his
muscles and color to a face
gaunted by privation and tireless
travel.
He flung away his cigarette,
set his teeth hard, and he walk-
I ed at such a pace that he was
i grinning with the zest of cold
and exertion when he saluted
the chief. The latter, who sat
before a littered desk, looked up
and nodded.
“Got a case for you, O’Hara.
Looks like a double murder and,
unfortunately, the trail is five
days old—or more.”
i
As he spoke, Inspector Mac
donald glanced at some notes
before him and then went on,
taking his time to consult them
and get his points carefully
j aligned. “In the first place,
! Johnson had the job but he’s in
the infirmary now. Got his arm
shot up with his own gun. Stu
pid accident! I can’t make out
how it happened. Anyway, he's
out of it and I sent for you. I’ll
give you the facts as I gleaned
them from his report; you can
go over and question him your
self later. He’s a good man: I
can’t see why he wanted to make
such a damn fool of himself!”
O’Hara smiled involuntarily.
“Accidents will happen, sir.”
“Humph!” The sound was
scornful. Macdonald had small
use for accidental stupidity. He
laid the flat of his hand on
Johnson’s written report and
swung around, his keen eyes on
I the sergeant’s face. “Did you
I happen to know Gharian, the
j fellow who got shot up by Nicky
Creuse a month or so ago?”
O’Hara nodded. “Gayle was
i talking about that incident the
other night,” he responded.
“Something about Nicky’s sister, |
wasn’t it? I heard he didn’t
want a worthless brute like I
Gharian for a brother-in-law..
Was that it. sir?”
’’The point is,” replied Mac
donald dryly, “Gharian was
) married.”
O'Hara suppressed an exclam
ation of surprise and fell sud
denly into an attitude of keen
' attention. Gayle HAD said some-j
thing about Gharian being a !
i prince of cads!
“Ninon Creuse had been a good
I girl; she was a trained nurse
; and never spared herself. She
) helped a lot of folks out in the
I wildest places. But Gharian pur
| sued her fascinated her, per
haps. Besides, she didn’t know
he was married, at first. I should
say she must have been pretty,
in a soft girlish way, though I
never saw her alive.”
The inspector perceived his
subordinate’s involuntary start
and smiled grimly.
“She and Gharian both are
dead now; that’s the crux of it.
Johnson was out on the Hudson
Bay trail, way up. There’d been
! a storm two days before and
the snow was crusted. He came
! upon a Cree Indian with a dog
i team, going to Gharian’s with a
j load of food and medicine. It
seems that Ninon Creuse, as a
trained nurse, went straight;
there—a month before, you un-1
derstand—to take care of Ghar- ■
ian after her brother wounded)
him. Strange to say, Gharian be- '
haved well and refused to make
any charge whatever against
young Creuse. The Cree told
j Johnson that the wounded man
had been in a high fever. The
1 nurse persuaded the Cree to help
her take care of him; when he
had recovered partially she had
(had to send for more food and
medicine. The Cree added that
Nicky Creuse just had found out
that his sister was nurse for
Gharian, and swore to kill him.
“The account of those threats
made Johnson turn aside and
accompany the Cree; he had it
in mind to get the girl away, if
possible, and let the Indian do
the remainder of the nursing.
The Cree declared that Nicky
still was at Churchill, and, as
far as we can find out, that was
the fact.”
Macdonald paused, glancing
down again at his notes before
he went on. “Johnson says that
he and the Cree mushed ahead
fairly fast. It began to snow but
there was no wind to cause drift
ing. They came through a bit of
THE SUMMERVILLE NEWS: SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA
wood, spruce and balsam mostly
—acts like a screen, you know —
and found the open space about
a hundred yards from Gharian’s)
cabin. Johnson says here:)
‘Ground rolling, a rise, snow pil-!
ed till it hid the cabin. Cree
ahead with team of malamutes.|
The leader lifted his nose and.
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howled. They swerved to one
side, all of ’em acting queer. I
came up and stumbled over two
bodies on the ice, a fresh sprink
ling of snow, like a blanket, cov
ering them’.”
Macdonald looked up sharply
at O’Hara. “The Cree and John
son scraped off the snow and
found Gharian and the nurse.
Both had been shot. There was
a pistol in Gharians’ hand. Looks
like a suicide pact, eh?”
“Rather The man, bad as he
was, was in love with a good girl,
I take it—and he already was
married. But you called it a
double murder, sir?”
“That’s what, O’Hara, no
doubt about it! It would be easy,
too, if we didn’t know lor cer
tain that Nicky Creuse was at
Churchill about the time of the
killing; that anyway he never
would have killed his sister in
tentionally. The Cree also has a
first class alibi. Os course, there’s
a bare chance that Nicky got
there somheow, and that the girl
was shot accidentally when she
tried to save Gharian. There was
a third person there, however,
either at the time or just after
wards, before snow fell over the
frozen ice crust. Johnson found
confusing tracks, tried to fol
low them and lost the trail at
the edge of a frozen creek. The
fugitive took to the ice. There
were triple tracks from the cab
in and a single track back to it,
zigzagging across the trail of
Gharian and the girl.
“The pistol in Gharian’s hand
was a .45, he and the girl were
killed with bullets from a .25!
It was murder. There may have
been—probably was —a fight;
two bullets had been fired from
Gharian’s .45, but he was a dead
shot and it seems unlikely he
Thursday, December 5,194 G
would have failed to bring down
his assailant.
“His previous wound was only
half bealed; the Cree doesn’t
think he was fit to travel, yet he
and the nurse were a hundred
yards from the cabin—and they
went there afoot. It looks to me
as if Nicky Creuse must have
sent someone to bring his sister
home, that there was an alterca
tion when Gharian followed and
tried to bring her back, and, in
the quarrel, both were shot.
There was a letter in the girl’s
pocket.”
(To Be Continued)