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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

It was as if she knew of the thoughts
that were in his mind, and of the fight he was making; as though through
space she had seen him, and watched him, and wanted to cry out for him
the way to come. There was a curious tremble in his fingers as he
restored the picture to his pocket. He whispered something. His pipe had
gone out. In the same moment a sharp cry from Father Roland startled
him. The dogs halted suddenly. The creaking of the sledge runners
ceased.
Father Roland had turned his face down the lake, and was pointing.
"Look!" he cried.
David jumped from the sledge and stared back over their trail. The
scintillating gleams of the snow crystals were beginning to prick his
eyes, and for a few moments he could see nothing new. He heard a muffled
ejaculation of surprise from Mukoki. And then, far back--probably half a
mile--he saw a dark object travelling slowly toward them. It stopped. It
was motionless as a dark rock now. Close beside him the Little Missioner
said:
"You've won again, David. Baree is following us!"
The dog came no nearer as they watched. After a moment David pursed his
lips and sent back a curious, piercing whistle. In days to come Baree
was to recognize that call, but he gave no attention to it now.


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