Isobel : A Romance of the Northern TrailCurwood, James Oliver
General
Isobel : A Romance of the Northern Trail
Curwood, James Oliver
Northwest, Canadian -- Fiction
He said Fond du Lac because Deane's grave lay between Churchill and
the old Hudson's Bay Company's post over in the country of the
Athabasca. The Barrens were the one thing that called to him now-- the
one thing to which he dared respond. He would keep his promise to
Isobel and visit Scottie's grave. At least he tried to make himself
believe that he was keeping a promise. But deep in him there was an
undercurrent of feeling which he could not explain. It was as if there
were a spirit with him at times, walking at his side, and hovering
about his campfire at nights, and when he gave himself up to the right
mood he felt that it was the presence of Deane. He believed in strong
friendship, but he had never believed in the love of man for man. He
had not thought that such a thing could exist, except, perhaps,
between father and son. With him, in all the castles he had built and
the dreams he had dreamed, the alpha and omega of love had remained
with woman. For the first time he knew what it meant to love a man--
the memory of a man.
Something held him from telling the secret of his mission at Churchill
even to Pelliter. The evening before he left he had smuggled an ax
into the edge of the forest, and the second day he found use for this.
He came to a straight-grained, thick birch, eighteen inches in
diameter, and he put up his tent fifty paces from it. Before he rolled
himself in his blankets that night he had cut down the tree. The next
day he chopped off the butt, and before another nightfall had hewn out
a slab two inches thick, a foot wide, and three feet long. When he
took up the trail into the north and west again the following morning
he left the ax behind.
The fourth night he worked with his hunting-knife and his belt-ax,
thinning down the slab and making it smooth. The fifth and the sixth
nights he passed in the same way, and he ended the sixth night by
heating the end of a small iron rod in the fire and burning the first
three letters of Deane's epitaph on the slab. For a time he was
puzzled, wondering whether he should use the name Scottie or David. He
decided on David.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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