Glen of the High North | Page 7

here, and at the same time study to a
better advantage the girl who was standing close to the rail. He had
accomplished something, anyway, which was worth a great deal to him.
He had heard her speak and learned her name. He liked "Glen," and it
seemed to suit her. But Glen what? He longed to know that, too. Her
voice was soft and musical. It appealed to him. Yes, everything seemed
to be in harmony, he mused. Name, voice, dress, and manner, all suited
the girl admirably. It was a happy combination.
From where he was standing he could watch her unobserved. He could
see the side of her face nearest to him, and he noted how flushed it was
with excitement. She was keenly interested in the approaching boat,
and her eyes followed it most intently.
The steamer had already slowed down, and its movement now was
scarcely perceptible. Reynolds looked at the small approaching craft,
and to his surprise he saw that it was a large canoe, being paddled by
four stalwart Indians. There were several white men on board, although
he could not distinguish their faces. Who could they be, and where had
they come from? he wondered. A man standing nearby asked the same
question, though no one seemed to be able to give a satisfactory
answer.
By this time the canoe was so near the steamer that from his position
Reynolds could see nothing more owing to the men crowding the rail.
He glanced toward the girl just as she turned suddenly away from the
side of the steamer and walked rapidly across the deck. She seemed
much agitated, and the flush had fled her face, leaving it very white. All
this Reynolds briefly noted, and when she had disappeared through a
door leading into the observation room, he stood wrapped in thought,
wondering as to the cause of the remarkable change that had so
suddenly taken place. Was there some mystery connected with her life,
and had she recognized someone in the canoe she did not wish to meet?
He determined to learn what he could about the picked-up men, and to
keep his eyes and ears open for further developments.

CHAPTER III
A BIG BLAZIN' LAUGH
"Fine sight that, sir."
Reynolds turned sharply at these words, and saw the old man with the
long beard and flowing hair standing at his left. Although he himself
was almost six feet in height, he seemed small by the side of this
stranger, who was looking calmly out over the water toward the
fog-bank, which had now lifted and was slowly dissolving.
"Ye don't see the likes of that often," he continued, "an' it ain't everyone
who kin read its meanin', either."
"What do you see there?" Reynolds asked, more interested in hearing
the man's deliberate drawl than the meaning of the fog-bank.
"Wall, it seems to me that a fog-bank hasn't a ghost of a chance fer life
when the sun hits it good an' hard."
"That one hasn't, anyway," Reynolds replied, as he watched the cloud
gradually thinning and drifting away.
"It's the same with all clouds, sir, an' it makes no difference whether
they're hangin' over the water or over one's life. They're bound to
disappear when the sun gits after 'em."
"Do you think so?"
"I sartinly do. Why, there isn't a cloud but'll gather up its skirts an' run
when a good big blazin' laugh gits after it. An' that's what we want in
this world to-day; more cheerfulness, more of the joy of life."
"Have you tried it?"
"Y'bet I have, an' it's allus worked like a charm. I could tell ye of many
a squabble that's been settled by the means of a smilin' face an' a good

hearty laugh. There's nuthin' like it."
"You're an optimist, I see," and Reynolds smiled for the first time in
many a day. He could not help it, for this stranger radiated a
stimulating influence of cheerfulness and goodwill.
"I try to be, sir, an' when I see a fog-bank hoverin' over people like that
one did out yonder a little while ago, I consider it my duty to act like
the sun an' drive it away. Then, there's good feelin' all around, 'specially
among the ones who were under the cloud."
"I imagine it is that way with those men who have just been picked up.
They must feel happy over the lifting of the fog at the right moment."
"That's jist what I mean. It meant much to them."
"Do you know who they are?"
"Miners, no doubt, who wish to go north. They've been prospecting
mebbe, on some of the islands along the coast, an' started out to hail a
passin' steamer. They do it at times."
"And the