The God of His Fathers: Tales of the KlondykeLondon, Jack
General
The God of His Fathers: Tales of the Klondyke
London, Jack
Klondike River Valley (Yukon) -- Fiction; Short stories, American
Twice Freda sent messengers up to the Barracks, where the dance was in
full swing, and as often they came back without answers. Then she did
what only Freda could do--put on her furs, masked her face, and went up
herself to the Governor's ball. Now there happened to be a custom--not
an original one by any means--to which the official clique had long since
become addicted. It was a very wise custom, for it furnished protection
to the womankind of the officials and gave greater selectness to their
revels. Whenever a masquerade was given, a committee was chosen, the
sole function of which was to stand by the door and peep beneath each and
every mask. Most men did not clamor to be placed upon this committee,
while the very ones who least desired the honor were the ones whose
services were most required. The chaplain was not well enough acquainted
with the faces and places of the townspeople to know whom to admit and
whom to turn away. In like condition were the several other worthy
gentlemen who would have asked nothing better than to so serve. To fill
the coveted place, Mrs. McFee would have risked her chance of salvation,
and did, one night, when a certain trio passed in under her guns and
muddled things considerably before their identity was discovered.
Thereafter only the fit were chosen, and very ungracefully did they
respond.
On this particular night Prince was at the door. Pressure had been
brought to bear, and he had not yet recovered from amaze at his having
consented to undertake a task which bid fair to lose him half his
friends, merely for the sake of pleasing the other half. Three or four
of the men he had refused were men whom he had known on creek and
trail,--good comrades, but not exactly eligible for so select an affair.
He was canvassing the expediency of resigning the post there and then,
when a woman tripped in under the light. Freda! He could swear it by
the furs, did he not know that poise of head so well. The last one to
expect in all the world. He had given her better judgment than to thus
venture the ignominy of refusal, or, if she passed, the scorn of women.
He shook his head, without scrutiny; he knew her too well to be mistaken.
But she pressed closer. She lifted the black silk ribbon and as quickly
lowered it again. For one flashing, eternal second he looked upon her
face. It was not for nothing, the saying which had arisen in the
country, that Freda played with men as a child with bubbles. Not a word
was spoken. Prince stepped aside, and a few moments later might have
been seen resigning, with warm incoherence, the post to which he had been
unfaithful.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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