The Silver Horde | Page 5

broke
through the ice. Never mind the room, we'll get along somehow." He
advanced with the tight-rolled sleeping-bags under his arm, but the man
stood immovable, blocking the entrance.

"You can't come in har! You find anoder house t'ree mile furder."
The traveller, however, paid no heed to these words, but pushed
forward, shifting the bundle to his shoulder and holding it so that it was
thrust into the Swede's face. Involuntarily the watchman drew back,
whereupon the unwelcome visitor crowded past, jostling his
inhospitable host roughly, laughing the while, although in his laughter
there rang a dangerous metallic note. Emerson's quick action gained
him entrance and Fraser followed behind into the living-room, where a
flat-nosed squaw withdrew before them. The young man flung down
his burden, and addressed her peremptorily.
"Punch up that fire, and get us something to eat, quick!" Turning to the
owner of the house, who lumbered in after them, he disregarded the
fellow's scowl, and said:
"Why, you've got lots of room, old man! We'll pay our way. Now get
some more firewood, will you? I'm chilled to the bone. That's a good
fellow." His forceful heartiness forbade dispute, and the man obeyed,
sourly.
The two new-comers stripped off their outer clothing, and in a trice the
small room became littered and hung with steaming garments. They
took possession of the house, and ordered the Swede and his squaw
about with firm good nature, until the couple slunk into an inner room
and began to talk in low tones.
Fraser had been watching the fellow, and now remarked to his
companion:
"Say, what ails that ginney?"
The assumption of good-nature fell away from Boyd Emerson as he
replied:
"I never knew anybody to refuse shelter to freezing men before. There's
something back of this--he's got some reason for his refusal. I don't
want any trouble, but--"

The inner door opened, and the watchman reappeared. Evidently his
sluggish resolution had finally set itself.
"You can't stop har!" he said. "Ay got orders."
Emerson was at the fire, busy rubbing the cramps from his arms, and
did not answer. When Fraser likewise ignored the Swede, he repeated
his command, louder this time.
"Get out of may house, quick!"
Both men kept their backs turned and continued to ignore him, at which
the fellow advanced heavily, and threatened them in a big, raucous
voice, trembling with rage:
"By Yingo, Ay trow you out!"
He stooped and gathered up the garments nearest him, then stepped
toward the outer door; but before he could make good his threat,
Emerson whirled like a cat, his deep-set eyes dark with sudden fury,
and seized his host by the nape of the neck. He jerked him back so
roughly that the wet clothes flapped to the floor in four directions,
whereat the Scandinavian let forth a bellow; but Emerson struck him
heavily on the jaw with his open hand, then hurled him backward into
the room so violently that he reeled, and his legs colliding with a bench,
he fell against the wall. Before he could recover, his assailant stepped
in between his wide-flung hands and throttled him, beating his head
violently against the logs. The fellow undertook to grapple with him, at
which Emerson wrenched himself free, and, stepping back, spoke in a
quivering voice which Fraser had never heard before:
"I'm just playing with you now--I don't want to hurt you."
"Get out of my house! Ay got orders!" cried the watchman wildly, and
made for him again. It was evident that the man was not lacking in
stupid courage, but Emerson, driven to it, stepped aside, and swung
heavily. The squaw in the doorway screamed, and the Swede fell full
length. Again Boyd was upon him, the restraint of the past long weeks

now unbridled, his temper unchecked. He dragged his victim through
the store-room, grinding his face into the floor at every effort to rise.
He forced him to his own door-sill, jerked the door open, and kicked
him out into the snow; then barred the entrance, and returned to the
warmth of the logs, his face convulsed and his lips working.
"Fingerless" Fraser gazed at him queerly, as if at some utterly strange
phenomenon, then drawled, with a sly chuckle:
"Well, well, you're bloody gentle, I must say. I didn't think it was in
you."
When the other vouchsafed no answer, he took his pipe from a pocket
of his steaming mackinaw, and filled it from a tobacco-box on the
window-sill; then, leaning back in his chair, he propped his feet up on
the table and sighed luxuriously, as he murmured:
"These scenes of violence just upset me something dreadful!"
CHAPTER II
IN WHICH THEY BREAK BREAD WITH A LONELY WOMAN

It was perhaps two hours later that Fraser went