The Alaskan eBook

James Oliver Curwood
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 301 pages of information about The Alaskan.

The Alaskan eBook

James Oliver Curwood
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 301 pages of information about The Alaskan.

“That you meant more to me than life.”

“And that—­particularly—­you wanted Ellen McCormick to keep a tress of my hair for you if they found me.”

He nodded.  “When I sat across the table from you aboard the Nome, I worshiped it and didn’t know it.  And since then—­since I’ve had you here—­every time.  I’ve looked at you—­” He stopped, choking the words back in his throat.

“Say it, Alan.”

“I’ve wanted to see it down,” he finished desperately.  “Silly notion, isn’t it?”

“Why is it?” she asked, her eyes widening a little.  “If you love it, why is it a silly notion to want to see it down?”

“Why, I though possibly you might think it so,” he added lamely.

Never had he heard anything sweeter than her laughter as she turned suddenly from him, so that the glow of the fallen sun was at her back, and with deft, swift fingers began loosening the coils of her hair until its radiant masses tumbled about her, streaming down her back in a silken glory that awed him with its beauty and drew from his lips a cry of gladness.

She faced him, and in her eyes was the shining softness that glowed in her hair.  “Do you think it is nice, Alan?”

He went to her and filled his hands with the heavy tresses and pressed them to his lips and face.

Thus he stood when he felt the sudden shiver that ran through her.  It was like a little shock.  He heard the catch of her breath, and the hand which she had placed gently on his bowed head fell suddenly away.  When he raised his head to look at her, she was staring past him into the deepening twilight of the tundra, and it seemed as if something had stricken her so that for a space she was powerless to speak or move.

“What is it?” he cried, and whirled about, straining his eyes to see what had alarmed her; and as he looked, a deep, swift shadow sped over the earth, darkening the mellow twilight until it was somber gloom of night—­and the midnight sun went out like a great, luminous lamp as a dense wall of purple cloud rolled up in an impenetrable curtain between it and the arctic world.  Often he had seen this happen in the approach of summer storm on the tundras, but never had the change seemed so swift as now.  Where there had been golden light, he saw his companion’s face now pale in a sea of dusk.  It was this miracle of arctic night, its suddenness and unexpectedness, that had startled her, he thought, and he laughed softly.

But her hand clutched his arm.  “I saw them,” she cried, her voice breaking.  “I saw them—­out there against the sun—­before the cloud came—­and some of them were running, like animals—­”

“Shadows!” he exclaimed.  “The long shadows of foxes running against the sun, or of the big gray rabbits, or of a wolf and her half-grown sneaking away—­”

“No, no, they were not that,” she breathed tensely, and her fingers clung more fiercely to his arm.  “They were not shadows. They were men!”

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Project Gutenberg
The Alaskan from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.