The Valley of Silent Men

ow as in the interval which immediately followed the closing of his door behind the mysterious girl who had told him that her name was Marette Radisson.

acing of dangers, had been beaten-horribly beaten-by a girl! And yet, in defeat, an irrepressible and at times distorted sense of humor made him give credit to the victor. The shame of the thing was his acknowledgment that

etty name was Marette Radisson. He was just beginning to think of the questions he had wanted to ask, a dozen, half a hundred of them-more definitely who she was; how and why she had come to Athabasca Landing; her interest in Sandy McTrigger; the mysterious relationship t

at. On his death-bed she had almost made fun of him. And she could not have come as a messenger from McTrigger, or she would have left her message. For the first time he began to doubt that she knew the man at all, in spite of the strange thing that had happened under O'Connor's eyes. But she must know Kedsty. She had made no answer to his half-accusati

you shoul

o know or question her about, and his daring intimation that she was hiding in Kedsty's bungalow had warned her. Was it possible that Kedsty himself had sent her for some reason which he could not even guess at? Positively it was not because of McTrigger, the man he had saved. At least she would have thanked him in some way. She

ntry were likable-looking men. There was Horrigan, for instance, who for seven long weeks kept him in good humor with his drollery, though he was bringing him in to be hanged. And there were McTab, and le Bete Noir-the Black Beast-a lovable vagabond in spite of his record, and Le Beau, the gentlemanly robber of the wilderness mail, and half a dozen others he could recall without any effort at all. No one called them liars when, like real men, they conf

attitude the fact that he was walking in the presence of the gallows whenever he entered the room. He was, as he had confided in Cardigan, "beastly hit up" over the thing. To feed and wash a man who would undoubtedly die, but who would be hanged by the neck until he was dead if he lived, filled him with pecul

pale eyes were paler, Kent thought. Also he star

ercer," he said, "but while I'm alive I want salt on 'em! Do you know, old

plied Mercer quickly. "Indeed, I

Kent dryly. "Wh

im, sir. I think he has gone to see h

love of heaven forget it now!" exploded Kent, "I want yo

n't say, sir. Doctor Cardigan hasn't told me. But I think not very long, sir. Doctor Cardiga

inning his second egg. "And, by the way

vely ripping!" e

co counter in a dry-goods store, but means a lot. Don't happen to

on and scarcely expected an answer from Mer

r visit, and she told him it would be impossible, because she was leaving on a

f his coffee in the thrill of the moment. "Why, t

ind a little joke in your present condition, sir, I might say that Doctor Cardigan was considerab

Mercer. She was p

ly to the roots of his pasty, blond hair. "I don't mind confessin

e upset me. And-see here, old man!-will you do a dy

ost happy, sir

rl actually leaves on the down-river scow tonight.

do my b

n to know. There's an old Indian named Mooie, who lives in a shack just beyond the sawmill. Give him ten dollars and tell him there is another

let and put fifty dol

use to me. And this little trick you are going to pull off

ir. It is ver

imes, he gave one the impression of having had splendid training as a servant, yet had this intimation been made to him, he would have become highly indignant. Kent had learned their ways pretty well. He had met them in all sorts of places, for one of their i

of courage and daring which needed only the right kind of incentive to rouse it. And when roused, it was peculiarly efficient in a secretive, artful-dodger sort of way. I

ade on the spur of one of those moments when the spirit of a hunch possessed him. His morning had been one of unexpected excitement, and now he leaned back in an effort to review it and to forget, if he could, the distressing thing th

hs ago-or even three-it was probable that she would so have changed the events of life for him that he would not have got the half-breed's bullet in his chest. He confessed the thing unblushingly. The wilderness had taken the place of woman for him. It had

window, the freedom and strength of that slender body, the poise of her exquisite head, and he felt again t

pson with its Hudson Bay Company's post and its half-dozen shacks was a thousand miles away. He was not sure that such a place as that valley really existed. It was easier to believe that the girl's home was at Fort Providence, Fort Simpson, Fort Good Hope, or even at Fort McPherson. It was not difficult for him to picture her as the daught

as that point chiefly which puzzled Kent. She was not only beautiful. She had been tutored in schools that were not taught by wilderness missioners. In her, it seemed to him, he had seen the beauty

uebec as a rare old bit of time-yellowed lace among cities-the heart of the New World as it had once been, still beating, still whispering of its one-time power, still living in the memory of its mellowed romance, its almost forgotten tragedies-a ghost that lived, that still b

him, Kent smiled out into the glorious day and whispered

ou-my Quebec. It's pretty, that name.

placed his stethoscope at Kent's chest that morning. And behind these two were Kedsty, with a face like gray rock, and young Mercer, in whose staring eyes was the horror of a thing he could not yet quite comprehen