The Come Back. Wells Carolyn
What made you say that?"
"I don't know." The girl shuddered and her eyes stared into Peter's. "I seemed to say it without any volition, – the words just came – "
"Well, don't let them come again. I don't like it a little bit. I'm coming home alive, very much alive, – and I'm coming home to claim you, – remember that."
"Unless either of us falls in love with some one else. Those girls of the far North are beautiful, I hear."
"An Eskimo with a nose ring? No, thank you! My heart is true to Poll! But don't you go and set your somewhat fickle heart on another man, 'cause if you do, I shall have to kill him, much as I'd regret such a necessity."
"My heart isn't fickle! What do you mean?"
"Just what I say. I think it is. I think my little black-eyed, rosy-cheeked Carly is quite capable of being on with a new love whether she's off with the old or not."
"Oh, Peter," and the black eyes showed moisture, "how cruel you are!"
"Isn't it so, Carly? Tell me it isn't, – I'll be so glad!"
But the coquettish glance that answered him was not entirely reassuring.
"Anyway," Peter pleaded on, "tell me you like me better than Kit or Gilbert. Tell me that if I'm a prey to green-eyed jealousy up there in the camp, at least, I needn't envy either of those chaps."
"Of course not!"
"Oh, you torment! Your words are all right, – but your emphasis is a little too strong. Carly, look me straight in the eyes and tell me you don't care for either of them!"
"Either of your eyes?"
"Silly! Well, yes, then, tell me that!"
The chicory flower eyes looked into the great, dark ones, and for a moment there was silence. The blue eyes were sweet and true, and they burned with a strong, deep lovelight. The eyes that gazed into them fell a little and seemed unable to meet them squarely.
"What is it, Carly? What is it, dear?" he begged.
"Nothing," she said, lightly. "I do l-like you, Peter, – better than any man I know – "
"Better than Kit Shelby?"
"Yes."
"Better than Gil Blair?"
"Yes."
"They're the ones I most feared. And mostly because I didn't want to go on a trip with a man I'm jealous of! That would be a fine kettle of fish!"
"Well, you won't do that. Don't worry about them, – or any one else."
"Oh, you blessed little girl! Carly, dearest, why can't you say yes, now? Won't you, Carly, – please."
The caressing voice was low and gentle, the pleading blue eyes were very earnest, but Carlotta still shook her head.
"When you come back," she repeated.
"All right, then," and Peter's face showed one of its masterful looks. "I'll accept your decree, – as I can't very well help myself, but just as sure as you're sitting there, Carly Harper, I'm going to kiss you!"
And he did; gathering her into his arms with a gentle insistence and kissing her squarely on her surprised red lips.
"There!" he said, "I guess you'll remember now that you belong to me, – whether you call yourself engaged or not! Mad?"
"Yes," she responded, but the one swift glance she gave him belied her words.
"You'll get over it," he said, cheerfully. "I'd like to kiss you again, though. May I?"
"When you come back," she said, and Peter waited.
CHAPTER II
The Labrador Wild
It was late in July before Peter Boots marshaled his merry men and let himself be marshaled by the guide, Joshua, on the trip of exploration and recreation.
A liner took them as far as Newfoundland, and at St. John's, a smaller steamer, the Victoria Lake, received them for their journey farther North. This ship belonged to a sealing fleet and also carried mails. It was not especially comfortable, and neither staterooms nor food were of the best.
But Peter was discomfort-proof, and his negligence of bothersome details and happy acceptance of existing conditions set a standard for the manners and customs of their party. Joshua, who had come to New York City to meet them, was not, by nature, possessed of the sort of heart that doeth good like medicine. But under the sunny smile of Peter's blue eyes, his customary scowl softened to a look of mild wonder at the effervescent gayety of the man who was yet so efficient and even hard-working when occasion required it.
Shelby was a close second in the matter of efficiency. He was a big chap, not handsome, but good-looking, in a dark, dignified way, and of a lithe, sinewy strength that enabled him to endure as well as to meet hardship bravely.
Not that they looked especially for hardships. Discomfort, even unpleasantness, they did anticipate, but nothing of more importance than inclement weather or possible colds or coughs. And against the latter ills Mrs. Crane had provided both remedies and preventions to such an extent that some were discarded as excess weight.
For the necessities of their trip, including as they did, canoe, tent, blankets, tarpaulins, duffel bags, shooting irons and cooking utensils, – besides food, were of no small bulk and weight even divided among four porters.
And Blair, though possessed of will and energy quite equaling the others', was less physically fit to stand the hard going.
It was already August when they were treated to a first sight of the Labrador.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Shelby, "and Shackelton, and Peary, – yes and old Doc Cook! What an outlook! If those breaking waves were looking for a stern and rockbound coast to dash on, they missed it when they chose the New England shore instead of this! I've seen crags and cliffs, I've climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, but this puts it over all the earth! How do we get in, anyway?"
"Great, isn't it?" and Peter lay back in his inadequate little deck chair and beamed at the desolation he saw.
For the coast of Labrador is nearly a thousand miles of barren bleakness and forbidding and foreboding rock wall. After buffeting untold ages of icy gales and biting storms the bare rocks seem to discourage human approach and crave only their own black solitude.
The one softening element was the fog that rode the sea, and now and then swooped down, hiding the dangerous reefs until the danger was increased tenfold by the obscurity.
"Oh, great!" mocked Shelby. "You can have mine. I'm going to stay on the boat and go back."
"Yes, you are!" grinned Peter, knowing full well how little importance to attach to that speech; "inside of a week, you'll be crazy about it."
"I am now," said Blair, slowly. "Most weird sight I ever saw. The rocks seem like sentient giants ready to eat each other. Termagant Nature, unleashed and rampant."
"Idea all right," said Crane, lazily, "but your verbiage isn't hand-picked, seems to me."
"You can put it more poetically, if you like, but it's the thing itself that gets me, not the sand-papered description of it."
"Nobody wants you to sand-paper it, but you ought to hew to the line a little more nearly – "
"Lines be bothered! Free verse is the thing for this place!"
"I want free verse and I want fresh air," bantered Peter, "and Lasca, down by the Brandywine, – or wherever it was that Friend Lasca hung out."
"You're harking back to your school days and Friday afternoon declamation," put in Shelby, "and Lasca was down by the Rio Grande."
"Only Alaska isn't down there at all," Blair informed them, quite seriously, and the others roared.
After delays, changes and transfers made necessary by the uncertainties of Labrador travel, they came at last to Hamilton Inlet, and the little steamer approached the trading post at Rigolet.
"Reminds