The Winds of Chance Part 11

"Are you leaving for good?" he inquired, despondently, unable to dissemble.

"Bless you, no! I'll probably die in this country. I'm going out on business, but I'll be back in Dawson ahead of the ice. You'll be going across soon, I dare say. Come, walk down to the beach with me."

Together they left the building and found their way to the landing-place, where a lighter was taking on pa.s.sengers for the steams.h.i.+p Queen.

"I suppose you know how sorry I am for what happened yesterday,"

Pierce began.

The Countess looked up from her abstracted contemplation of the scene; there was a faint inquiry in her face.

"Sorry? I should think you'd be about the happiest boy in Dyea."

"I mean what Jim McCaskey said. I'd have--killed him if I could. I tried to!"

"Oh!" The woman nodded; her teeth gleamed in a smile that was not at all pleasant. "I heard about the shooting this morning; I meant to ask you about it, but I was thinking of other things." She measured the burly frame of the young man at her side and the vindictiveness died out of her expression. Phillips was good to look at; he stood a full six feet in height, his close-cropped hair displayed a shapely head, and his features were well molded.

He was a handsome, open lad, the Countess acknowledged. Aloud she said: "I dare say every woman loves to have a man fight for her. I do my own fighting, usually, but it's nice to have a champion."

Her gaze wandered back to the hotel, then up the pine-flanked valley toward the Chilkoot; her abstraction returned; she appeared to weigh some intricate mathematical calculation.

With his hands in his pockets the hotel-keeper came idling down to the water's edge and, approaching his departing guest, said, carelessly:

"I've been thinking it over, ma'am. There isn't room for two of us here. I might make it seventeen thousand five hundred, if--"

"Fifteen! No more."

There came a signal from the steamer in the offing; the Countess extended her hand to Pierce.

"Good-by! If you're still here three weeks from now you may be able to help me." Then she joined the procession up the gang- plank.

But the hotel-keeper halted her. "Fifteen is a go!" he said, angrily.

The Countess Courteau stepped back out of the line. "Very well.

Make out the bill of sale. I'll meet you at Healy & Wilson's in ten minutes."

A moment later she smiled at Pierce and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well, I brought him to time, didn't I? I'd never have gone aboard. I'd have paid him twenty-five thousand dollars, as a matter of fact, but he hadn't sense enough to see it. I knew I had him when he followed me down here."

"What have you bought?"

"That hotel yonder--all but the lumber."

"All BUT the lumber! Why, there isn't much else!" Pierce was more than a little astonished.

"Oh yes, there is! Dishes, hardware, gla.s.s, beds, bedding, windows, fixtures--everything inside the building, that's what I bought. That's all I wanted. I'll have the place wrecked and the stuff packed up and on men's backs in two days. It cost--I don't know what it cost, and I don't care. The fellow was perfectly right, though; I haven't time to get to Seattle and back again.

Know any men who want work?"

"I want it."

"Know any others?" Pierce shook his head. "Find some--the more the better. Carpenters first, if there are any." The speaker was all business now. "You're working for me from this minute, understand?

Treat me right and I'll treat you right. I'll take you through to Dawson. I want carpenters, packers, boatmen; they must work fast.

Long hours, long chances, big pay, that's what it will mean. That outfit must be in Dawson ahead of the ice. Such a thing has never been done; it can't be done! But I'll do it! Do you want to tackle the job?"

Phillips' eyes were dancing. "I'll eat it up!" he cried, breathlessly.

"Good! I think you'll do. Wait for me at the hotel." With a brisk nod she was off, leaving him in a perfect whirl of emotions.

Her man! She had called him that. "Fast work, long hours, long chances"; an impossible task! What happy impulse had sped him to town this morning? Ten minutes was the narrow margin by which he had won his opportunity, and now the door to the North had opened at a woman's touch. Inside lay--everything! She thought he'd do?

Why, she must KNOW he'd do. She must know he'd give up his life for her!

He pinched himself to ascertain if he were dreaming.

The Northern Hotel was less than three-quarters built, but within an hour after it had changed owners.h.i.+p it was in process of demolition. The Countess Courteau was indeed a "lightning striker"; while Phillips went through the streets offering double wages to men who could wield hammer and saw, and the possibility of transportation clear to Dawson for those who could handle an oar, she called off the building crew and set them to new tasks, then she cleared the house of its guests. Rooms were invaded with peremptory orders to vacate; the steady help was put to undoing what they had already done, and soon the premises were in tumult.

Such rooms as had been completed were dismantled even while the protesting occupants were yet gathering their belongings together, Beds were knocked down, bedding was moved out; windows, door- k.n.o.bs, hinges, fixtures were removed; dishes, lamps, mirrors, gla.s.sware were a.s.sembled for packing.

Through all this din and clatter the Countess Courteau pa.s.sed, spurring the wreckers on to speed. Yielding to Phillips' knowledge of transportation problems and limitations, she put him in general charge, and before he realized it he found that he was in reality her first lieutenant.

Toward evening a s.h.i.+p arrived and began to belch forth freight and pa.s.sengers, whereupon there ensued a rush to find shelter.

Pierce was engaged in dismantling the office fixtures when a stranger entered and accosted him with the inquiry:

"Got any rooms?"

"No, sir. We're moving this hotel bodily to Dawson."

The new-comer surveyed the littered premises with some curiosity.

He was a tall, gray-haired man, with a long, impa.s.sive face of peculiar ashen color. He had lost his left hand somewhere above the wrist and in place of it wore a metal hook. With this he gestured stiffly in the direction of a girl who had followed him into the building.

"She's got to have a bed," he declared. "I can get along somehow till my stuff is landed to-morrow."

"I'm sorry," Pierce told him, "but the beds are all down and the windows are out. I'm afraid n.o.body could get much sleep here, for we'll be at work all night."

"Any other hotels?"

"Some bunk-houses. But they're pretty full."

"Money no object, I suppose?" the one-armed man ventured.

"Oh, none."

The stranger turned to his companion. "Looks like we'd have to sit up till our tents come off. I hope they've got chairs in this town."

"We can stay aboard the s.h.i.+p." The girl had a pleasant voice--she was, in fact, a pleasant sight to look upon, for her face was quiet and dignified, her eyes were level and gray, she wore a head of wavy chestnut hair combed neatly back beneath a trim hat.

Alaska, during the first rush, was a land of pretty women, owing to the fact that a large proportion of those who came North did so for the avowed purpose of trading upon that capital, but even in such company this girl was noticeable and Pierce Phillips regarded her with distinct approval.

"You can have my part of that," the man told her, with a slight grimace. "This racket is music, to the bellow of those steers. And it smells better here. If I go aboard again I'll be hog-tied. Why, I'd rather sit up all night and deal casino to a mad Chinaman!"

"We'll manage somehow, dad." The girl turned to the door and her father followed her. He paused for a moment while he ran his eye up and down the busy street.