Defeat! The word aroused all his innate stubbornness. Never had he acknowledged defeat before. He had won through by sticking to the task at hand. Was he to give in now--to let this frozen-hearted woman beat him all round? How Featherstone would purr with pleasure when he knew! How all those high-browed aristocrats would congratulate this ill-treated wife on disposing of her unfortunate husband!

The old grievance still rankled, and his refusal to forget it reacted upon himself. This wilderness of great cold and hardship could not break his endeavor, but a woman was slowly and surely doing so. All his dreams evolved around her--maddening dreams in which he was grasping and missing her....

The climax was to come, and it came in a way that was totally unexpected.

It came with such crushing relentless weight that it left him a mere wreck of a man.

For three days Angela had spoken no word. When he arrived back at the shack after the usual vain hunt for gold, she gave him but a quick glance, sufficient enough to convey to her that he had failed for the hundredth time. On the third night, instead of handing him his meal from the stove she sat down and burst into pa.s.sionate sobs.

Instinctively he put out his hand to clasp her trembling fingers. She pushed it away fiercely and stood up, shaking with emotion.

"You've got to let me go!" she cried.

"When the spring comes."

"No, now. I can't wait until the spring. This is killing me--killing me.

Can't you see that it will be too late then?"

"Angela, we came for a set purpose. If I fail when the spring comes, we'll go back to the life you want."

"I'm going now," she said grimly. "To-night!"

His mouth tightened.

"Be reasonable!"

"Reasonable! You talk of reason--you who brought me here to live like a dog, to treat as a dog----"

He sighed as he remembered her aversion to any attempted acts of kindness on his part. In every instance she had made it clear that she wanted nothing from him--that she refused kindnesses, sacrifices, on her behalf.

"I ain't treated you in any way different to that in which a husband would treat his wife."

"Wife--you call me that?"

"What do you call it, then?"

"Prisoner--slave!"

His face hardened.

"And if I did, ain't there some justification? If our deal had been a love deal I guess the arrangement would have been canceled long ago. But it wasn't. It was commercial transaction to which you gave your approval. It may be morally wrong to keep you, but the whole darned frame-up was morally wrong. So morals don't come into it--savvy? Legally I got a claim to my--goods, and you're asking me to forgo that claim. But you don't show much regret at taking a hand in that dirty business----"

"I told you I was sorry."

"Yep--sorry, because it's hurting _you_."

She knew this was true, and the fact that he knew it too stung her. She sunk her head in her hands and remained for some time in silence. When she raised it again her face was full of a new determination.

"You are only bringing pain upon yourself," she said tensely.

"I can bear it."

"Can you?--I wanted to spare you--but you are forcing me to this--forcing me to tell you something that is going to hurt you."

The tragic tone of her voice caused him to stand as though petrified.

"I said I should go now--to-night; and I am going."

"So!" he stammered, feeling an awful pang of fear at his heart.

"You have hitherto considered no one but yourself. How far will you carry your desire for vengeance?"

"I don't get you----"

"Wait! I told you it was killing me up here. That didn't seem to influence you much--but suppose there is someone else to be considered----"

"What are you saying?"

"Are you blind? Can't you guess? The other person is as yet unborn."

His eyes were blind with pain. He gripped a chair and swayed dizzily. His mouth moved, but uttered no sound. When at last he spoke the words came as though forced from a clutched throat.

"Not that!--G.o.d, you don't mean that? Tell me you don't mean that--Angela----"

She sank her head on her bosom and a sob escaped her. The next moment her head was jerked up and she was gazing into his steely fixed eyes.

"Was it--that man--D'Arcy?"

Another sob convinced him. He flung her arm aside and walked to the door.

He had encountered hardships, disappointments, physical and mental pain, but nothing like this devastating destroyer that was gripping him. He stumbled out of the shack like a terribly sick man.

"Oh G.o.d!" he groaned. "And I loved her!"

She had won--won by means so foul that he would have died rather than that truth should have become known to him. All life was rotten, rotten to the core! Heaven was uprooted and legions of devils usurped the throne of the Almighty. He unlatched the outhouse and feverishly harnessed six of the dogs to the sled.

Trembling and ill, he crept into the shack to find her vanished to the inner room. He divided up the food in two equal portions, placed half his small financial funds inside a flour-sack, where he knew she would find it, and piled the things onto the sled. Then he called her in a low, almost inaudible, voice. She came from the inner room, closely swathed in furs and with her head sunk.

"The sled's outside.... You can mush the dogs.... They're the tamest six.... Fort Yukon is down the river, and the weather's good...."

She nodded and walked through the door. The Arctic moon, shedding a queer blue radiance over the snow hung high in the black vault. Directly overhead the Great Bear gleamed like hanging lamps, with magnificent Vega blazing like a rich jewel. She turned to him once.

"Jim!"

"Go! Go! Follow the river.... Good--good-bye!"

A choking response came back. The whip cracked and the dogs moved forward.

In a few minutes she was a black blur against the scintillating snow. With a groan he turned about and went inside.

For him it was a night of unparalleled agony. Hour after hour saw him there, at the small window, gazing fixedly up the valley, until a slight increase in the light brought him to full consciousness, to realize that a new day was born.