Prev | Current Page 185 | Next

Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Honor of the Big Snows"

As in a vision, he saw her
face so near to him that he felt the touch of her sweet breath, and he
knew that one of his rough hands was clasped in both of her own, and
that after a moment it was crushed tightly against her bosom.
"Jan, my hero--"
He struggled back, almost sobbing, as he plunged out into the night
again. He heard her voice crying after him, but the wild wailing of
the spruce, and the storm in his brain, drowned its words. He had seen
the glorious light of love in her eyes--her love for Dixon! And he
would find him! At last he, Jan Thoreau, would prove that the old love
was not dead within him; he would do for Melisse this night--to-
morrow--the next day, and until he fell down to die--what he had
promised to do on their sledge-ride to Ledoq's. And then--
He went to Ledoq's now, following the top of the mountain, and reached
his cabin in the late dawn. The Frenchman stared at him in amazement
when he learned that he was about to set out on a search for Dixon.
"You will not find him," he said slowly in French; "but if you are
determined to go, I will hunt with you. It is a big chance that we
will not come back."
"I don't want you to go," objected Jan. "One will do as much as two,
unless we search alone. I came your way to find if it had begun to
snow before Dixon left.


Pages:
173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197