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[ NORTHERN LI THE STAKE AND PLUMB LINE HE went against all good judg- ment in marrying him; she © cut herself off from her own people, from the life in which she had been an alluring and beauti- ful figure. The step she took was to marry Jim Templeton, the drunken, cast- off son of a millionaire senator from Kentucky, who controlled railways and owned a bank, and had so resented his son's inebriate habits that for five years he had never permitted Jim's name to be mentioned in his presence. Jim had twenty thousand dollars left him by his mother, and a small Income of three hundred dollars from an investment which had ' been made for him when a litte boy.. And this had carried him on; for, drunken as he was, he had sense enough to eke out the money, limiting himself to three thousand a year. He had four thousand dollars left, and his tiny income of three hugfidredwhen he went to Sally Seabrook, after hav- ing been sober for a month, and begged her to marry him. When Sally was fifteen and he twenty-two, he had fallen in love with her and she with him; and nothing had broken the early romance. He had captured her young imagination, and had fas- tened his image on her heart. Her people, seeing the drift of things, had sent her to a school on the Hudson, and the two did not meet for: some time. Then came a stolen interview, and a fastening of the rivets of attraction--for Jim had gifts of a wonderful kind. He was also a lawyer, and was Junior attorney to his father's great business. In the early days of their as- sociation Jim had left his post and taken to drink at critical moments in their operations. At first, high words had been spoken, then there came the strife of two dis- similar natures, and both were headstrong, and each proud and unrelenting in his own way. Then, at last, had come the separation, irrevocable and painful; and Jim had flung out into the world, a drunkard, who, sober for a fort- night, or a month, or three months, would afterward go off on a spree. Soclety had ceased to recognize him for a long time, and he did not seek it. In one of his sober intervals he had met Sally Seabrook in the street. It was the first time in "four years, for he had avoided. her and, though she had written to . him once or twice, he had never answered her--shame was in his heart. Yet all the time the old song was in Sally's ears. 80 when she and Jim met in the street, the old, true thing rushed upon them both, and for a moment they stood still and looked at each other. That was the beginning of the new epoch. A few days more, and Jim came to her and said that she alone could save him; and she meant him to say it, had led him to the saying, for the same conwiction was burned deep in her own soul. Bhe knew the awful risk she was taking, that the step must mean social ostracism, and that her own people would be no kinder to her than socigty; but she gasped a prayer, smiled at Jim as though all were well, laid her plans, made him promise her one thing on his knees, and took the plunge. : Her people did a3 she expected. She was threatened with banish- ment from heart and home--with disinheritance; but she pursued her course. And, standing at the altar, Jim's eyes ware still wet, with new resolves in his heart and a being at his side meant for the best man in the world. As he knelt beside her, awaiting the benediction, a sudden sense of the enormity of his act came upon him, and for her sake he would have drawn back then, had it not been too late. ' But the thing was done, and a new life was begun. Before they had launched upon it, however, before society. had fully grasped the sensation, or they had left upon their journey to northern Canada, where Sally intended they should work out theiriprob- lem and make their home, far and free from all old associations, a curious thing happened. Jim's father sent an urgent message to Sally to come to him. "Why have you done it?" he sald. "You--you knew all about him; you might have married the -best man in the country. You could rule a kingdom; you have beauty and power, and make people do what you want; and you've got a sot." ""He is your son," she answered quietly. "He was my son--when he was a man," he retorted grimly. "He is the son of the woman you once loved," she answered. The old man turned his head away. - t would she have said to what you did to Jim?" He drew himself around sharply. Her dagger had gone home, but he would not let her know it. "Leave her out of the question she was a saint," he said, roughly. ' "She cannot be left out; ner can you. He got his temperament naturally; he inherited his weak- ness. From your grandfather, from her father. Do you think you are in no way responsible?" He was silent for a moment, but then said. Nubbaraly: nt "Why --w ave you done 's between him and me can't be helped; we are father and son; VY Sv A but you--you had no call, no re- sponsibility." + "I love 'Jim. I always loved him, ever since I can remember, as you did. I see my way ahead. I will not desert him. No one cares what happens to him, no one but me. Your love wouldn't stand the test; mine will." "Love's labor lost," said the old man, 'slowly, cynically, but not without emotion. "I have "ambition," she con- tinued. 'No girl was ever more ambitious, but my ambition is to make the most and best of my- self. Place?----Jim and I will hold it yet. Power?--it shall be as it must be; but Jim and I will work for it to fulfill ourselves. For me--ah, if I can save him---and I mean to do so!--do you think that I would not then have my heaven on earth? You want money---money -- money, power, and to rule; and these are to you the best things in the world. 1 make my choice differently, though I would have these other things if I could; and hope I shall. But Jim first--Jim first, your son, Jim--my husband, Jim!" The old man got to his feet slowly. She had him at bay. "But you are great," he said, 'great! It is an awful stake--awful! Yet, if you win, you'll have what money can't buy.-- And listen to me. We'll make the stake bigger. It will give it point, too, in an- other way. If you keep Jim sober for fou ears from the day of your marriage, on the last day of that four years I'll put in your hands for you and him, or for your child--if you have one-- five millions of dollars, I am a man of my word. While Jim drinks I won't take him back; he's disinherited. I'll give him nothing now or hereafter. Save him for four years--if he can do that he will do all---and there's five millions as sure as the sun's in heaven. Amen and amen." Society had its sensation, and then the veil dropped. For a long time none looked behind it except Jim's father. He had too much at stake not to have his telescope upon them. A detective followed them to keep Jim's record. But this they did not know. From the day they left Wash- ington Jim put his life and his fate in his wife's hands. He meant to follow her judgment, and, self-willed and strong in in- tellect as he was, he said that she should have a fair chance of ful- filling her purpose. So, as they drew into the great Saskatchewan Valley, her hand in his, and hope in his eyes, and such a look of confidence and pride in her as brought back his old, strong beauty of face and smoothed the careworn lines of self-indulgence, she gave him his course: as a private he must join the North-West Mounted Police, the red-coated riders of the plains, and work his way up through every stage of responsibility, be- ginning at the foot of the ladder of, humblehess and self-control. She believed that he would agree With her proposal; but her hands ol ed his g little more firmly and golicitously--there was a faint, womanly fear at her heart--as she asked him if he would do it. The life meant more than occa- sional separation; it mean that there would be periods when she would not be with him; and there was great danger in that; but she knew that the risks must be taken, and he must not be wholly re- liant on her presence for his moral strength. : His face fell for a moment when she made the suggestion, but it cleared presently, and he said, with a dry laugh: "Well, I guess they must make me a ser- geant pretty quick. I'm a colonel in the Kentucky Carbineers!" It happened as Jim said; he was made a sergeant at once-- Sally managed that; for, when it came to the point, she saw the conditions in which the privates lived, and realized that Jim must be one of them, and clean out the stablés, and groom his horse and the officers' horses, and fetch and carry, her heart failed her, and she thought that she was making her remedy needlessly heroical. So, she went to see the commis- sioner, who was on a tour of scrutiny on their arrival at the post, and, as better men than he had done in more knowing circles, he fell under her spell. If she had asked for a lieutenancy, he would probably have corrupted ' some member of Parliament into secur- ing it for Jim. 3 In time it was found that the troop never had a better discipli- narian than Jim. He knew when to shut his eyes, and when to keep them open. To non-essentials he kept his eyes shut; to essentials he kept them very wide open. There were some men of good birth from England and elsewhere among them, and these mostly understood him first. But they all understood fally from the begin- ning, and after a little they were glad enough to come, on occasion, to the five-roomed little house near the barracks, and hear her talk, then answer her questions, and, as men had done at Wash- ington, open out their hearts to her. They noticed, however, that while she made them barley- water, and all kinds of soft drings from acid, sarsaparilla, and the like, and had one special drink of her own invention, which she called cream-mectar, no spirits were to be had. They also noticed that Jim never drank a way or another, they got a glim- mer of the real truth, before it became known who he really was or anything of his story. And the interest in the two, and in Jim's reformation, spread through the country, while Jim gained repu- tation as the smartest man in the force. On the day that Jim became a lieutenant his family increased by one. It was a girl, and they called her Nancy, after Jim's mother. was the anniversary of their mar- riage, and, so far, Jim had won, with what fightings and strug- glings and wrestlings of the spirit | only Sally an? himself knew. And she knew as well as he, and al- ways saw the storm coming be- fore it broke--a restlessness, then a moodiness, then a hungry, eager, helpless look, and afterward an agony of longing, a feverish de- sire to break away and get the thrilling thing which would still the demon within him. So the first and so the second and third years passed in safety. The baby had done much to brace her faith in the future and comfort her anxious present. The child had intelligence of a rare order. She had drawn to her the roughest men in the troop, and lor old Sewell, the grim sergeant, she had a specially warm place. "You can love me if you like," she had said to him &t the very start, with the egotism of child- hood; but made haste to add, '"be- cause I love you, Gri-Gri." She called him Gri-Gri from the first, but they knew only long after- * Your foks have disinherit have i will my mind! ward that '"gri-gri" meant "gray- gray," to signify that she called him after his grizzled hairs. What she had been in the life- history of Sally and Jim they both knew. Jim regarded her with an almost superstitious feeling. Saily was his strength, his support, his inspiration, kis bulwark of de- fence; Nancy was the charm he wore about his neck--his mascot, he called her. Standing now with the child in his arms and his wife looking at him with a shining moisture of the eyes, Jim laughed outright. There came upon him a sudden sense of power, of aggressive force--the will to do. Sally un- derstood, and came and laugh- ingly grasped his arm. "Oh, Jim," she said, playfully, "you are getting muscles like steel. You hadn't these when you were colonel of the Kentucky Carbineers!" "I guess I need them now," he sald, smiling, and with the child still in his arms drew her to a win- dow looking northward. As far as the cye could #ce, nothing mit snow, like a blanket, spread over, the land. Here and there in th wide expanse a tree silhouetted against the sky, a tracery of ec- centric beauty, and off in the far distance a solitary horseman rid- ing toward the post--riding hard. "It was root, hog, or die with me, Sally," he continued, "and I rodted. . . . I wond fellow on the horse--I have a feeling about him. See, he's been hard and long--you can by the day the horse 't it beautiful, all that out there--the drop of liquor, and by-and-by, one ence of life." ND JENNT a Ne a It drops | behind him which could come SES GHTS 00009 He paused reflectively. "It's strange that this life up here makes you feel that you must live a bigger life still that this is only the wide porch to the great labor- house--it makes you want to do things. Well, we've got to win the stake 1rst," he added, with a laugh. . "The stake is a big one, Jim-- | bigger than you think." He did not know that he was playing for a certain five millions, perhaps fifty millions, of dollars. She had never told him of his father's. offer. He was fighting only for salvation, for those he loved, for freedom. As they stood there, the conviction had come upon her that they had come to the last battle-field, that this journey which Jim now must take would decide all, would give them perfect peace or lifelong pain. The shadow of battle was over them, but he had no foreboding, no premonition; he had never been so full of spirits and life. To her adjuration Jim replied by burying his face in her golden hair, and he whispered: "Say, I've don® nearly four years, my girl. I think I'm all right now--1I think. This last six months, it's been easy--pretty fairly easy." "Four months more, only four months more--God be good to us!" she said, with a little gasp. If he held out for four months more, the first great stage in their life-journey would be passed, the stake won. There came-a knock at the door. and presently Sewell entered. "The Commissioner wishes you to come over, sir," he said. "I was just coming, Sewell. Is all ready for the start?" "Everything's ready, sir, but mn you~ = there's to be a change of orders. Something's happened--a bad job up in the Cree country, I think." A few minutes later Jim was in the Commissioner's office. The murder of a Hudson Bay Com- pany's man had been committed in the Cree country. The stranger whom Jim and Sally had seen riding across the plains had brought the news for thirty miles, word of the murder having been carried from point to point. The Commissioner was uncertain what to do, as the Crees were restless through want of food and the ab- sence of game, and a force sent to capture Arrowhead, the chief who had committed the murder, might precipitate trouble. Jim solved the problem by offering to go alone and bring the chief into the post. It was two hundred miles to the Cree encampment, and the journey had its double dangers. Another officer was sent on the expedition for which Jim had been preparing, and he made ready to go upon his lonely duty, His wife did not know till three days after he had gone what the nature of his mission was. Jin» made his journey in good weather' with his faithful dogs alone, and came into the camp of the Crees armed with only a re- volver. If he had gone with ten men, there would have been an instant melee, in which he would have lost his life. This is what the chief had expected, had pre- pared for; but Jim was more formidable alone, with power far with force and destroy the tribe, if resistance was offered, than with fifty men. His tongue had a gift of terse and picturesque By GILBERT PARKER © 1923, by 'The 'McClure * Newspaper Syndicate speech, powerful with & people who 'had the gift of imagination. Arrowhead was a chief whose will had never been crossed by his own people, and- to master that will by a superior "will, to hold back the destructive force which to the ignorant minds of the braves, was only a natural force of defence, meant a task needing more than authority be- hind it. For the very fear of that authority put in motion was an incentive to present resistance-- to stave off the day of trouble. The faces that surrounded Jim were thin with hunger, and the murder that had been committed by the chief had, as its origin, the foolish replies of the Hudson Bay Company's man to their demands for supplies. Arrowhead had killed him with his own hand. But Jim Templeton was of a different calibre. Although he had not been told it, he realized that, indirectly, hunger was the cause of the crime and might easily become the cause for an- other; for their tempers were sharper even than their appetites. Upon this he played; upon this he made an exhortation to the chief. He assumed that Arrow- head had become violent because of His people's straits, that Arrow- head's. heart yearned for his people and would make )sacrifice for them. Now, if Arrowhead came quietly, he would see that supplies of food were sent at once, and that arrangements were made to meet the misery of their situa- ttion. Therefore, if Arrowhead came freel¥, he would have so much in his favor before his judges; if he would not come quietly, then he must be brought by force; and if they raised a hand to prevent it, then destruc- tion would fall upon all--all save the women and children. The law must be obeyed. They might try to resist the law through him, but, if violence was shown, he would first kill Arrowhead, and then de- struction would-/descend like a wind out of the north, darkness would swallow them, and .their bones would cover the plains. Jim made his great effort, and not! Without avail. Arrowhead dae ---- a ---- 1 ae ------ Tai rose slowly, the cloud gone out of his face, and spoke to his people, bidding them wait in peace until food came, and appointing his son chief in his stead until his return. "The white man speaks truth, and I will go," he said. - "I shall return," he continued, "if it be written so upon the leaves of'the Tree of Life; and if it be not so written, I shall fade like a mist, and the tepees will know me not again. The white man is master --if he wills it we shall die; if he wills it we shall live. And this was ever so. If it is written on the leaves of the Tree of Life that the white man rule us forever, then it shall be so. I have spoken. Now, behold, I go." Jim had conquered, and to- gether they sped away with the dogs through the sweet-smelling spruce woods where every branch carried a cloth of white, and the only sound heard was the swish of a blanket of snow as it fell to the ground from the wide webs of green, or a twig snapped under the load it bore. Peace brooded in the silent and comforting for- est, and Jim and Arrowhead, the Indian ever ahead, swung along, mile after mile, on their snow- shoes, emerging at last upon the wide, white prairie, A hundred miles of sun and fair weather, sleeping at night in the open in a trench dug in the snow, no fear in the thoughts of Jim, nor evil in the heart of the heathen man. One hundred miles of sun and fair weather, and then fifty miles of bitter, aching cold, with nights of peril from the increasing chill, so that Jim dared not sleep lest he should never wake again, but die benumbed and exhausted! Yet Arrowhead slept through all. Day after day so, and then ten miles of storm such as come only to the vast barrens of the northlands; and woe to the traveller upon whom the icy wind and the blind- ing snow descended! Woe came upon Jim Templeton and Arrow- head, the heathen. In the awful struggle between yo nature that followed, the 0 man capti became the leader. The craft 'of the plains, the inherent instinct, the feeling which was more than eyesight became the only hope. One whole day to cover ten miles--an endless path of agony, in which Jim went down again and again, but came up blinded by snow and drift, and cut as with lashes by the angry wind. At the end of the ten miles was a Hudson Bay Company's post and safety; and through ten hours had they struggled toward it, going off at tangents, circling on their own tracks; but the Indian, by an instinct as sure as the needle to the pole, getting the direction to the post again, in the moments of direst peril and unceftainty. How Arrowhead found the post in the mad storm he could never have told. Yet he found it, with Jim unconscious on the sledge and with limbs frozen, all the dogs gone but two, the leathers over the Indian's shoulders as he fell against the gate of the oe with a shrill cry that roused the factor and his people within, to- gether with Sergeant Sewell, who had been sent out from head- quarters to await Jim's arrival there. It was Sewell's hand which first felt Jim's heart and pulse, and found that there was still life left, even before it could be done by the doctor from headquarters, who had come to visit a sick man at the post. For hours they worked with snow upon the frozen limbs to bring back life and consciousness. Consciousness came at last with half delirium, half understanding; as, emerging from the passing sleep of anaesthetics, the eye sees things and dimly registers. them before the brain has set them in any relation to life or comprehen- sion. But Jim was roused at last, and the doctor presently held to his lips a glass of brandy. Then from infinite distance Jim's understand- ing returned; the mind emerged, but not wholly, from the chaos in which it was travelling. His eyes stpod out in eagerness. "Brandy! brandy!" hungrily. With an oath Sewell snatched the glass from the doctor's hand, put it on the table, then stooped to Jim's ear and said, hoarsely: '"Remember--Nancy. For God's sake, sir, don't drink!" Jim's head fell back, the fierce light went out of his eyes, the face became grayer and sharper. "Sally--Nancy--Nancy," he whis- pefed, and his fingers clutched vaguely at the quilt. "He must have brandy or he will die. The system is pumped out. He must be revived," said the doctor. He reached again for the glass of spirits. Jim understood now. He was on the borderland between life and death; his feet were at the brink. "No--not--brandy, no!" he moaned. "Quick, the broth!" said Sewell to the factor, who had been pre- paring it. "Quick, while there's a chance." He stooped and called into Jim's ear: "For the love of God, wake up, sir. They're coming--they"re hoth coming--- Nancy's coming. They'll soon be here." What matter that he lied? --a life was at stake. Jim's eyes opened again. The doctor was standing with the brandy in his hand. Half madly Jim reached out. "I must live until they come," he cried; "the brandy--ah, give it! Give it-- ah, no, no, I must not," he added, gasping, his lips trembling, his hands shaking. Sewell held the broth to his lips. He drank a little, yet his face became grayer and grayer; a bluish tinge spread about his mouth. Presently as they watched him the doctor said: "It will not do. He must have brandy. It has life --{food--in it." Jim understood the words. He knew that if he drank the brandy the chances against his future were terrible. He had made his vow, and he must keep it. Yet the thirst was on him; his enemy had him -by the throat again, was dragging him down. But in the extremity of his strength his mind fought on--fought on, growing weaker every moment. He was baving his last fight. They watched" him with an aching anxiety, and there was anger in the doctor's face. He had no patience with these forces arrayed against him. At last the doctor whispered to Sewel: "It's no use; he must have the brandy, or he can't live an hour." ] Suddenly there appeared at the bedside Arrowhead, gaunt and weak, his face swollen, the skin of it broken by the whips of storm. "He is my brother," he said, and, stooping, laid both hands, which he had held before the fire for a long time, on Jim's heart. "Take his feet, his hands, his legs, and his head in your hands," he said to them all. "Life is in us; we will give him life." He knelt down and kept both hands on Jim's heart, while the others, even the doctor, awed by his act, did as they were bidden. "Shut your eyes. Let. your life go Into him. Think of him, and him alone. Now!" said Arrow- head, in a strange voice. He murmured, and continuing he said, murmuring, his body drawing closer and closer to Jim's body, while in the deep silence, broken only by the chanting of his low, monotonous voive, - the others pressed Jim's hands and head and feet and legs--six men under the command of a heathen murderer. The minutes passed. The color came back to Jim's face, the skin of his hands filled up, they ceased twitching, his pulse got stronger, his eyes opened with a new light in them. "I'm living, anyhow," he said, at last, with a faint smile. "I'm hungry-----broth, please." The fight was won, and Arrow- head, the pagan murderer, drew over to the fire and crouched down beside it, his back to the bed, impassive and still. As the light came in at the win- dows, Sewell touched him on the shoulder and said: "He is sleep- ing now." "I hear my brother breathe," answered Arrowhead. "He will live.'" All night he had listened, and had heard Jim's breath as only a man who has lived in waste places can hear. "He will live. What 1 take with one hand I give with the other.' He had taken the life of the factor; he had given Jim his life. And when he was tried three months later for murder, some one else said this for him, and the hearts of all, judge and jury, were so moved they knew not what to_do. But Arrowhead was never sen- tenced, for, at the end of the first day's trial, he lay down to sleep and never waked again. He was found the next morning still and cold, and there was clasped In his hands a little doll which Nancy had given him on one of her many visits to the prison during her father's long illness. They found a plece of paper in his belt with these words in the Cree language: "With my hands on his heart at the post I gave the life that was in me, saving but a little until now. Arrowhead, the chief, goes to find life again by the well at the root of the tree. How!" On the evening of thé day that Arrowhead made his journey 'to "the well at the root of the tree" a stranger knocked at the door of Captain Templeton's cottage; then, without awaiting admit- tance, entered. Jim was sitting with Nancy on his knee, her head against his shoulder; Sally at his side, her face alight with some inner joy. Before the knock came to the door Jim had just said: "Why do your eyes shine so, Sally? What's in your mind?" She had been about to answer, to say to him what had been swelling her heart with pride, though she had not meant to tell him what he had forgotten --not till midnight. But the fig- ure that entered the room, a big man with deep-set eyes, a man of power who had carried everything before him in the battle of life, answered for her. "You have won the stake, Jim," he said, in a hoarse voice. 'You and she have won the stake, and I've brought it--brought it." Before they could speak he placed in Sally's hands bonds for five million dollars. "Jim--Jim, my son!' he burst out. Then, suddenly, he sank into a chair and, putting his head in his hands, sobbed aloud. "My God, but I'm proud of you--speak to me, Jim. You've groken me up." He was ashamed of his tears, but he could not wipe them away. "Father, dear old man!" said Jim, and put his hands on the broad shoulders. Sally knelt down beside him, took both the great hands from the tear-stained face and laid them against her cheek. But presently she put Nancy on his knees. "I don't like you to ery," the child said, softly, "but today I cried, too, 'cause my Indian man is dead." a The old man could not speak, but he put his cheek down to hers. After a minute, "Oh, but she's worth ten times that!' he said, as Sally came close to him with the bundle he had thrust into her hands. "What is it?" said Jim. "It's five million dollars--for Nancy," she said. "Five--million---what-- 1?" "The stake, Jim," said Sally. "If you did not drink for four years--never touched a drop---we were to have five million dollars." "You never told him, then--you never told him that?" asked the old man. , "1 wanted him to win without it, she said. "If he won, he would be the stronger; if he lost, it would not be so hard for him to bear." The old man drew her down and kissed her cheek. He chuckled, though the tears rere still in his eyes. He looked at his son. "I pass the game on to you, Jim. You can fo it. I knew you could do it as the reports came In this year. I've had a detective up here for four years. I had to do it. It was the devil in me. You've got to carry on the game, Jim; I'm done. I'll stay home and potter about. tucky, and build up and take care of it a bit--your mother always loved it. to have it as it was when she was there long ago. But I'll be - ready to help you when I'm wanted, you understand." "You want me to run things-- your colossal schemes? You think--?"" "I don't think. I'm old enough to know." . [== - of ---- , want to go back to Ken-.