THE LAST CARTRIDGE

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 36, 1 February 1908, Page 4

THE LAST CARTRIDGE

All through the night the bear had been heard scratching upon the walls, testing now one side, now another, searching for entrance, maddened by hunger. T-'roni lime to lime there came an interval ot silence; then the scratching commenced again and continued persistently. .No voice could have Veil heard through those hard-frozen snow-blocks. A strong man, perishing in the cold, might have shouted for help in vain through the long winter night and remained unanswered. Only the crepitation of those restless claws was audible, though once the occupants seemed 10 hear the sound of a half-human wail. The woman gripped ber companion's arm with a shudder.

"Did you hear anything?" she whispered, with wide eyes. "A cry!" Both listened intently. ">,o, it was nothing. Hush, dear, you are trembling!" "if it should get in!" Ue patted her assuriugly. "A legion of never force these walls. Take courage, dear; tomorrow you will hear the pattering of the dogs'" feet across the snow, and lie will be back, with food and cartridges." "If we had only one!" she said. " Strong as you are, it would be death to face those turious animals—even with that."

He had pulled from its sheath a rusty knife. "ior you," he whispered, "1 would succeed even with this kniie. Be calm, dear—there is no danger." One grows accustomed to whispering in those solitudes. The loneliness is too prolound for sound. Inside the but it was almost warm. The moisture had frozen the snow-walls into opaque ice-blocks, and from the roof icicles bung everywhere. Above the llame ot the large candle water dripped imperceptibly, hissing on the hot tallow.

But tor their voices the sex of the two inmates might 'have been indiscernible. Their hair was hidden under great hoods of fur; from feet to waist they were wrapped in their loose sleepingbags. " It has stopped now," she whispered presenile. "It must be growing light outside- it is eleven o'clock. Vesterd.iy one could almost have read at midday. Soon the sun will appear again. Ah, this desolate winter!' "He brave, dear. To-morrow be should return with the dogs, and we will start for tne vessel. Wc will sail southward, after the sun." Slie shivered in the gloom. He had placed his arm round her, and their dancing shadows, enormous in size, mocked them grotesquely from the wajls. in the silence the slow drip, drip of water from the roof was heard. " *es, to-morrow," said the woman.

•' And then—the end. Well, it had to come. He will return, and then—ah, 1 love you!" [ She Hung her arms round his neck and laid liei ' ' iea(l u l )ou hi* shoulder. lfe raised her fur cap, and patted her Hair. "Oh, how I hate him!" she whispered fiercely. " I wish 1 might never see him again. lie drives me mad, with his grave, questioning looks, his silence. He 'is old and selfish. He thinks nothing or mo. He brings me here, into these terrible solitudes of ice and snow, and leaves me—with you. Well, he is a fool; let him suffer and learn!" "They say you liiin devotedly. The papers " " V es," she sneered mockingly, '■ always the papers! When 1 was a bride. 1 first went north with him. 1 was only a. girl, and he a middle-aged man, and J thought it heroic; my imagination was fired with romantic notions of duty. And now I have to accompany him every journey, to live up to my reputation. I did not care, till 1 met you; but now—oh, I hate him, I hate him!" He remained quite silent, and presently she leant to look into his face, under the candlelight. "1 believe you—love him," she murmured. "Yes," said the man, quietly and hopelessly, " ] love him. t love him more than any man in the world—or any woman, excepting you. And I know that I am doing him the greatest wrong that one man can do to his friend. You know how he saved my life upon the iee-rloe." "His reputation," she said snceringly. "He was paid in fame. He got a good advertisement." " You wrong him," said her companion gravely. ''He is incapable of self-seek-ing. 1 think he is the simplest, noblest character I" have ever known." She twined her arms round his neck until she felt him respond to the intensity of her ardour. "Do you love him, then, more than me?" she whispered. "No!" he cried, with sudden passion. *' 1 need you more. Listen—will you come with mo after the voyage is over?" She nodded, nestling down into iiis furs. "We will go south together, to Florida, to Cuba, to lands of'perpetual sunshine, and leave these horrors behind forever. Wo will lie in the sun and watch the blue, open sea and the palmetto groves." "Oh, if this voyage were over!" she answered. "ff he might never return! Ves, 1 am wicked enough to wish the ice might engulf him, or that he might perish in the snow." Outside the scratching commenced again. It persisted, low down toward the ground, beside the loose ice-blocks which were piled up at the entrance, as if the bear sought to scratch through by tireless persistence, "Ah, that terrible sound!" the woman cried. " 1 cannot endure it." She stepped out ol her sleeping-bag and crossed the floor. Presently she stopped quickly, with a little cry, " Sec/' she exclaimed, " 1 have found a cartridge!" She came over eagerly and handed it to her companion. " .Now you can shoot the bear," she whispered, opening the rille-breecu. "1 will scrape the snow from the loop-hole and yon can pass your barrel through!" She took the knife and began to dig between two of the loose ice-blocks. The sott snow crumbled easily. A faint light filtered through the orifice.

'• It is dawn," she whispered. •• You can just see, distinguish—ah!" She dropped the knife, then stooped suddenly and picked it up. "Stop!" she cried in excitement; " No, shoot now. shoot! Quickly, before it goes!" In the dim dawn a shaggy form was discernible, crouched upon the snow, ten paces distant. As lie did so the figure rose, and, rearing itself, seemed to stretch out its limbs as if in supplication. Then, as the shot rang out, it fell, and a stream of bright blood spurted into the snow. The mournful howling ol a dog was faintly audible. The man inside gave a wild cry. "Oowu with the ice-blucKs!" he" shouted to the terrilied woman. "Quick, help me!'' Heedless of her bewildered words, he began lifting down the great blocks with irenzied movements, working with <upcrlmman energy, till l u . 1,,,,! cleared a -.pace wide enough to admit of ciit. hieii. leaping over, he ran towards the prone figure. The dog howled dismally beside it, and lickeu the blood that came from the wound, "My captain!" he cried, flinging himself upon his knees; and, overcome ny grief, he wept unreservedly. The dying man opened "his eyes and sought unavailingly to raise himself. His furs were frozen into a stiff matting of ice; his hair and uc'artt, Irteovercd by any hood, were stiifcr thna steel, and his features had tlnAlobdless aspect • f

a face of wax. Exhausted, enunciated, his dogs ail dead lint, one, his sleigh abandoned, lie had struggled homeward alone. Take care of her," lie whispered. "The ship—is safe. Andersen—will lie here with flic—second sleigh— to-mor-row." Tie closed his eyes and shuddered slightly. Then the limbs relaxed and the eyes opened. Slowly the man rose from beside the body of the captain. The woman stood by his side, white with fen r, raising her | eyes dubiously in supplication.

"Ah!" she. said. '• this is terrible. I—" He read her eyes. " lou knew!" he answered bitterly. •' Murderess! I never want to see your face again!" —Victor Rousseau.