Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 267, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 November 1915 — TWO ON A TRAIL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TWO ON A TRAIL

By J. F. PETERS.

When Johnson reached old Legrange’s cabin he was just ten minutes too late. He had traveled four hundred miles that spring to woo Marie Legrange. His winter’s catch had been better than at any time' in his ten years of trapping. He meant to ask the pretty French girl to come South and marry him at Winnipeg. As has been said, he was just ten minutes too late. Dufour had anticipated him by that amount of time. He had heard that Dufour was ahead of him, and, though he had no reason to suppose that Marie cared for the man, he had been vaguely uneasy. He had seen Dufour at last, when he was within ten miles of the cabin, and had spurred his tired horse onward. But when he reached the top of Birch Rise, where a few dwarfed trees afforded an uncertain cover, he saw Marie and Dufour standing in front of the cabin, and he saw Dufour take the girl in his arms. He mounted and rode away, rounding the ridge and proceeding aimlessly along the water hollow. His only thought just then was to get out of sight of Marie. She must never know his disappointment. He offsaddled and built a fire in the hollow. He had just finished cooking his bacon when he saw Dufour ride past along the top of the crest. Dufour was going northward. At first Johnson wondered why; then he remembered that the man set out a line of traps every spring in the North Fork country, where winter always lingered and some of the best furs were to be taken. In* April the fur-bearing

animals had not yet shed their coats, rich and silky from the prolonged cold. The lay of the land was peculiar in this direction. Johnson had descended to the trail that ran along the South Fork valley. The ridge grew steadily higher, the overhanging banks were covered with brush. Johnson could follow Dufour, beneath him, perhaps three hundred feet beneath him, for two days, keeping him plainly in sight, and yet avoiding discovery. In his bitterness he gave way to an Impulse springing up in his heart against his will. He had loved Marie ever since she was a child. Dufour had stolen her. He would kill Dufour. None would ever know of the tragedy tn this desolate region. In a year or two, when Dufour's death had come to be accepted, he would go back to Marie. The idea, with which he had played at first, grew stronger, until it overwhelmed his resolution. Burning with hatred for this man who had supplanted hiin, Johnson rode cautiously along the level beneath. For a whole day he followed him. He had imagined that his enemy would start on the next day at sunrise. But when he awakened and crept stealthily toward Dufour's camp he found the fire low and Dufour gone. He saddled his horse hastily and followed him. But soon the snow began to fall, and the man's trail became obliterated. Dufour had been leading his packhorse; hoofs and footprints alike became hidden under the soft downfall.

Johnson pressed on resolutely. The snowfall became heavier. At last he was forced to halt. He dug a shelter in the hard accumulation of the winter and crept inside, leaving his horse, blanketed and tethered, under the protection of the bank. It must have been in the middle of the night that he started up. He looked out. The snow had ceased, and the stars shone brilliantly. Johnson fancied that he had heard a cry. He listened, and now there was no doubt of it. A man was crying at the bottom of the valley. Mingled with his cry came a furious snarl which had only one meaning for Johnson, and for the horse as well. Hastily he untethered the trembling animal, mounted it, and rode down. He heard the cry again, and the sound of a discharged rifle. Presently he rump upon the little shelter of Dufour. Dufour was tying outside upon his side, his rifle grasped firmly in his hand As Johnson approached his. horse snorted and reared. Johnson leaped to the ground. A dozen slinking forms disappeared in the shadows *f the stunted trees.

▲ pack of wolves had scented Du four and had attacked him. Johnson fired after them. He thought by the yelping that he had hit one; he was sure of it when he heard the beasts fighting over the body. He turned to Dufour. He saw at a glance that the man had fallen down the cliff. He was fearfully injured, and lay as If paralyzed. His horse had evidently bolted. Johnson turned his horse loose. It would have to look after itself; it might evade the wolves, but no halter or ropes could hold it there. It leaped, whinnying, into the darkness. Johnson crouched by Dufour's side, waiting. There was no time to lose in words, and he knew the almost human cunning of the wolf pack, maddened with hunger in the last days of winter. Suddenly, out of nothing, it seemed, two huge forms leaped toward them. They fell between Dufour and Johnson. Johnson clubbed his rifle and brought it down on one brute’s head. It lay quivering, silent. The other sprang at his throat. For a moment Johnson was forced back against the cliff. He felt the hot breath on hid face and heard the hiss in the throat. Then somehow he had evaded the fangs and hurled the monster from him. He swung wildly with his rifle stock. By some good fortune he struck the beast behind the ear. It fell, stunned. Then the rest of the pack was upon him. But it was beginning to grow lighter. Johnson dragged Dufour into the shelter that he had dug in the bank, and stood in front of him, waiting. Three times his rifle rang out, and each time he shot down a form that leaped in midair. It was growing quite light. The beasts were snarling over their dead. They crouched round Johnson in a half-circle, tearing at the flesh and watching him, too. A wolf prefers man’s flesh to wolf-meat. Johnson knew that, but he knew that only a concerted attack could overcome him It was dawn now. The beasts were lurking further back among the trees. Johnson fired his last two -bullets into their refuge. He heard a yelping, and in the gold of the first sunlight saw the survivors stream away through the birch thickets. Then at last he turned to Dufour. The man must have fallen all the way down the cliffs, and a glance showed him that he could not live. Dufour clutched at Johnson as he bent over him. “Forgive!" he whispered. “I followed you. I saw you in the valley. I made a detour and went behind you, to kill you—because you took the girl I loved.” Johnson stared wide-eyed at, him; he seemed to be Interpreting his own heart. “I hated you when Marie refused to marry me. Stay by me till I die. She loves you. Forgive!” whispered Dufour. Johnson clasped the man's hand in his. He waited there until the breath grew fainter, stopped. Johnson closed the dead eyes and closed the mouth of the shelter securely. Then he set his feet upon the trail back to Marie’s cabin. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.)

He Mounted and Rode Away.