Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 125: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE EVIL PANORAMA, forth with at least two dog-sleds well stocked with provisions. The snow, said the storekeeper, was their salvation for traveling, but would easily prove their damnation should they lose their way or go unprepared to meet its terrible requirements. From Eskimos, Indians, and trappers, the necessary outfits were recruited, while the soft slush of October crept over the waters of the bay, and the air became tart and invigorating with the first breaths of winter. Nome saw annually the passing of its ships, stood at the water’s edge and waved a farewell, then turned to face its long months of frozen solitude. Extreme care was shown in the selec- tion of guides. Men who knew the country to be traveled and who had made of the distant Yukon a camping ground and high- way from the Klondike to the Sound were pressed into service at handsome pay. Four Indians were engaged as guides. Two sleds were outfitted, each with its separate tent and supplies. Furs were provided plentifully on Tad’s assurance that speed was less of a factor than com- fort or safety. When the snow came the two received it much as had Jerk Rann and Gatchell before them. It was a starting signal, the dawning of the hour they had looked forward to for months. They were thrilled by the first flake that fluttered from the gray heavens above them. Barbara Howland clapped her hands in delight as the ice of the bay hardened and the wind swept across it with the frigid whisper of the Arctic. She clung to Tad Raynor’s arm spell- bound as the flake multiplied itself into a million flakes that suddenly filled the air about them and blotted out all things but a streaking circle of white that enveloped them. It snowed steadily for three cays, the soft flakes piling high in the narrow streets blocking, except for the rugged, the trails from house to house. Nome had received its winter coat, and under it must lie for months and months until the spring sun 923 should appear again and open the short summer season. The world had become a thing of gray and white, and into that world the two teams set forth on the strangest mission that ever Nome had seen. Beside the rear sled Tad Raynor trotted. Beside Tad Ray- nor, Barbara Howland ran, her lithe body falling into a swinging trot with all the grace of an Indian. The air was brisk and bitter cold, the snow about the runners whirled upward in powdery clouds, and swished about their flying feet like water that had suddenly powdered. Tad shouted to the girl, held forth his hand, and she caught it and they trotted together, holding hands, the girl steadying herself a little against the uncertain foot- ing she found. Presently they struck An- vil Creek, and the Indians proclaimed the ice more than solid enough for to travel on. So they went, the parkas close about their faces, their hands incased in mittens, the dogs slipping and skidding on glare ice, but moving steadily onward neverthe- less. On each side of the creek the pines stood as though in patient contemplation of this cavalcade, Now and then Tad insisted that the girl ride the sled beside him, and thus avoid overdoing. At such times she felt the thrill of this new and white land; sensed its im- placability and its vastness. Never had she known such things, and her mind re- acted to them in both childish delight and sober thought. At midday they stopped, and the In- dians prepared them a meal of which they partook ravenously. “Lord!” Raynor said, as he warmed his stiff hands over the little fire. “ Ain’t this a country for you, Barb! I’ve heard of it a million times, and read more—but { never realized it could be like this! Look! See that bird? It’s a ptarmigan; we’ll eat a few of those before long!” And at night, with a pine fire burning at their feet and a warm supper to strength- ’ en them against the gripping and ceaseless - cold, Barbara sat by and watched Tad Raynor as he smoked his pipe. Something Gomichbooks (E@)