The White Desert

fore the summit of nearly twelve thousand feet elevation could be reached and th

nt Taluchen, the last vestige of daylight. The wind was growing shriller and sharper, as though it had waited only for the sinking of the sun to loose the ferocity which too long had been imprisoned. Darkness came, suddenly, seeming

ts added handicap of a broken rod and the consequent lost power of one cylinder. Literally inch by inch it dragged itself up the heavier grades, puffing and gasping and clanking, the rattling rod threatening at every mome

d the purpose more easily. Again a sally and again a stop. And Barry was thankful, as, huddled and shivering in his light clothing, he once more sought the radiator. Vaguely there came to him the thought that he might spend the night somewhere on the Pass and go on with the flush of morning. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came; th

turns, the dragging process up the steeper inclines of the road. A last final, cl

adlights, he could discern a sign which told him he had reached

enom, where everything was a threatening thing, and never a cheering aspect except the fact that the grades had been accomplished, and that from now on he could progress with the knowledge that his engine at least need labor no longer. But the da

ed the thing which had sought to hold him back, the happiness of having fought against obstacles, of having beaten them, and of knowing that he now was on the down trail. The grade lessened for a few hun

pull of the starter nor the heavy tug of the down grade could loosen. Once more Barry Houston felt his heart sink in the realization of a newer, a greater foreboding than ever. A frozen cra

out the little tent house he had seen far at one side and which he instinctively knew to be the rest room and refreshment stand of the summer season. But he found it, as he had feared he would find it, a deserted, cold, napping thing, without a human, without a single comfort, or the possibility of fire or warmth through the night. Summer, for Hazard Pass, at least, still was a full month away. For a moment h

ight forced it forward at dangerous speeds until lesser levels could be reached and the hold of the brake bands accomplish

five minutes there had come the strong odor of burning rubber; the strain had been too great, the foot

the bottom of the Pass. The brakes were gone, the emergency had not even lasted through the first hill. Barry Houston was now a prisoner of speed,-cramped in the seat of a runaway car, clutching tight at the whe

d Barry took it,-the "burring" of the gears in lieu of a brake. The snow was fading now, the air was warmer; a mile or so more and he would be safe from that threat which had driven him down from t

ken. Again a wild, careening thing, with no snow banks to break the rush, the car was spe

wheel with fingers that were white with the tightness of their g

iece of mechanism, its wheels still spinning, the odor of gasoline heavy about it from the broken tank, one light still gleaming, like a blazing eye, one light that centered

thless, unable to move, he watched the twisting rebound of the machine from which he had been thrown and sought to evade it as it settled, metal crunchi

ly a woman's hand can give. He moved slightly, with the knowledge that he lay no longer upon the rocky roughness of a mountain side, but upon the softness of a bed. A pillow

ormed the mainstay of the house, with its four-paned windows, with its uncouthness, yet with its comfort. Barry noticed none of th

t her too; just enough of an upturned little nose to denote the fact that there was spirit and independence in her being; dark blue eyes that snapped even as darker eyes snapped, as she stood, half turned, look

again, she was gone, and the opening of a door in the next room told him where. Almost wondering, he turned his eyes then toward the blankets and sought to move an arm

ried the others, with the same result. Then followed his legs-and the glorious knowledge that they still were intact. His one free hand reached for his head and felt it. It was there, plus a

ed the tone and the enthusiastic manner of spe

er in booming bass. "And has

I think he o

r' bad. He be al

im to be unconscious so long. It's be

m six o'clock. Now-eet

es, I think he's sleeping

yer he come in the minute. H

from him the information that he was anywhere except the East. For it had been Fred Thayer who had caused Barry to travel across country in

? Is he a

he think eet is the M'sieu

out to look ove

is how he know when I tell heem about picking heem up from the ma

oward the ceiling in swift-centered thought. Some one else must have sent the information, some one who wanted Thayer to know that Ba

d across his mind, one to be di

minute I get back!" cam

. A query had come

t heem t

e groans every once in a

irl approach the door, not to open them until she had depa

and ridden the great, skidding bobsleds with the lumberjacks in the spruce forests, on a never-forgotten trip of inspection. It was Thayer, the same Thayer that he once had looked upon with all the enthusiasm and pride of boyhood, bu

l had answere

lorado license on it, but the plates look pretty new, and there are fresh marks on the license holders where others have been

to his feet at some time during the night-though he could not remember it-and striven to find his way down the mountain side in

it is jus' at the dawn. I cannot see clearly. I raise my gun to shoot, and Golemar, he growl again. Then I think eet strange that the bear or whatever he is do not move. I say to Golemar, 'We wil

t. It rather matched her hair and the tilt of he

meal, Ba'tiste. I'm glad I happened along when I

uffle, as though the man were striving to catch the girl

t regained co

vered his senses, all right, and fal

's my boss, you know-since the old man died. We've got a

as the girl again. "W

I want to s

on the pillow and closed his eyes as the sound of steps approached. Closer they came to the bed, and clos

ool came out here about