Newspaper Page Text
"I'm glad it Is Big Jim and not
me," he sajd, "because now it it
He told her to wait while he har
nessed his dogs. Presently the sleigh
came along the trail, the beasts pull
ing with a will.
" "Whoa!" shouted Bienaime, and
as they lay down in the snow he en
M tered the shack again. The girl was
still huddled over the stove. .
"Come!" said Bienaime.
She stared at .him. "You mean it,
- Francois?" she cried. "Wouldn't
wouldn't any one else come?"
Francois Bienaime evaded that
question. ".My luck," he . said. "J.
was first on the.spot
iney woman t comer sne ex
claimed. "You don't mean ysu're
going to drive 30 miles, sitting .at my,
side, -Francois? Why, it'l be sure
death to you. They say If you take
it in the, open it's sure to1 kill. Best
leave me here. Maybe I'll get welL
I don't feel so bad.'
"Alas," said Bienaime, "it is no
use: I am exposed now." -'I may as
well take you."
The- girl considered. Yes, that
was true. He had exposed himself
already to the contagion; he could
not go back to the lumber camp.
"All right But don't get too near
me," she said, rising.
Nevertheless Bienaime bundled her
up in the shawl, wrapped her In a
pair of blankets and took her m his
arms and carried her to the sleigh.
He placed her' there, nestling snugly
among the robes.
"Mush!" he said; and the dogs
They raced along the trail. At the
bend Bienaime, looking back, saw
p the crowd from the dance hall look
ing after them. He felt his heart leap
up in exultation. "Mush!" he shout
ed, leaping into the sleigh.
The dogs ran on. Bienaime sat in
the sleigh beside her beloved. And
the weary miles began to be told Off.
"I wonder if I'll die," mused the
girL "I don't feel very sick." i
' "No fear of dying," said little Bie
naime. "I can't let you die, Miss Ar
line. It would mean too much to Big
Jim, I guess."
He was not conscious of the curi
ous face she turned on him. He was
beginning to freeze, for he had given
her all the robes. It was not cold,
even for March, but ten above zero
is cold enough for a night journey,
even for a lumberman. He stood
upon the tailing log at the back of
the sleigh, shouting to the dogs as
they raced into the road, 12 mile3
from camp, that led toward Shiloh.
Every time 'he rested the dogs he
went to. look at Arline, but always
her eyes' were closed, and he did not
dare to speak to her.
The hours wore on. Mornjng
came, and they were still five, miles
from Shiloh. He aroused rline at
the last stopping.
"You are better," he said with con
The girl stared at him as if she did
not know what had occurred. Then
her eyes Brightened.
"I thought you were Big Jim,"
So they rode into Shiloh. The sleigh
drew up outside the doctor's house
and Bienaime descended, carrying
Arline in his arms. The doctor's face
appeared at the window; he came to
"What is it?" he asked.
"Smallpox," said Bienaime briefly.
"Bring her in," said the doctor.
Bienaime waited in the cold. He
was shivering, and he -knew he was
doomed; nevertheless he was glad he
had done Big Jim a good turn.
Presently the doctor came out; his
eyes were angry, but his mouth was
"You've come on a long journey.
It wasn't necessary," he said.
"But the smallpox, Doctor!"
"Measles, my son." sid the dontnr
laying his hand on his arm. TU take
charge of her for a day or two till
she's better. Sure you can come in
and see her."