Suddenly Phillips discovered that this girl's concern affected him
deeply, for it was genuine--it was not in the least put on. All at once
she seemed very near to him, very much a part of himself. His head was
spinning now and something within him had quickened magically. There
was a new note in his voice when he undertook to reassure his
companion. At his first word Laure looked up, startled; into her dark
eyes, still misty with tears, there flamed a light of wonder and of
gladness. She swayed closer; she took the lapels of his coat between
her gloved fingers and drew his head down to hers; then she kissed him
full upon the lips. Slowly, resolutely, his arms encircled her.
On the following morning Laure asked Morris Best for a bottle of
whisky. The evenings were growing cold and some of the girls needed a
stimulant while camp was being pitched, she explained. The bottle she
gave to Pierce, with a request to stow it in his baggage for
safekeeping, and that night when they landed, cramped and chilly, she
prevailed upon him to open it and to drink. The experiment worked.
Laure began to understand that when Pierce Phillips' blood flowed
warmly, when he was artificially exhilarated, then he saw her with the
eyes of a lover. It was not a flattering discovery, but the girl
contented herself, for by now she was desperate enough to snatch at
straws. Thenceforth she counted upon strong drink as her ally.
The closing scenes of the great autumn stampede to Dawson were
picturesque, for the rushing river was crowded with boats all racing
with one another. 'Neath lowering skies, past ghostly shores seen dimly
through a tenuous curtain of sifting snowflakes, swept these craft;
they went by ones and by twos, in groups and in flotillas; hourly the
swirling current bore them along, and as the miles grew steadily less
the spirits of the crews mounted. Loud laughter, songs, yells of
greeting and encouragement, ran back and forth; a triumphant
joyfulness, a Jovian mirth, animated these men of brawn, for they had
met the North and they had bested her. Restraint had dropped away by
now, and they reveled in a new-found freedom. There was license in the
air, for Adventure was afoot and the Unknown beckoned.
Urged on by oar and sweep, propelled by favoring breezes, the Argonauts
pressed forward exultantly. At night their roaring camp-fires winked at
one another like beacon lights along some friendly channel. Unrolling
before them was an endless panorama of spruce and birch and cottonwood,
of high hills white with snow, of unexplored valleys dark with promise.
As the Yukon increased in volume it became muddy, singing a low,
hissing song, as if the falling particles of snow melted on its surface
and turned to steam.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account