Johnston McCulley

“ Men who have passed through what you have couldn't help but want to be friends. The fact that you both loved the same girl is enough. She's dead—don't soil her memory by keeping up this feud. And she's left a daughter you both can love. Pierre, come over here!”
The guide obeyed, because the revolver and the glitter in Small's eyes commanded it. He sat down beside the bunk again.
“Rancour,” Small went on, “I think Pierre is as willing to be friends as you, only he hates to admit it. When your girl came to the cabin tonight he wouldn't come over and help you. I had to force him to guide me. ”

“ Pierre whirled toward the door. Some one beat upon it and the guide threw it open.
Pearson and Holland staggered in through the swirling sleet and snow. Between them they carried Mary Rancour.
“She fell—hurt her ankle—can't walk,” Pearson gasped. “We hadn't gone two hundred yards.”
The girl was groaning. They took off her cloak and muffler and mittens and put her in one of the bunks.
“My father! My father!” she was sobbing.
“Great Scott! What can we do?” Pearson asked. “I never saw such a storm. A human being can't live through it. ”

“ Pierre crossed the room and picked up his coat. Sylvester Small backed to the door and stood against it, watching the men in front of him.
“You're going to guide me to the Rancour cabin, Pierre,” he said. “You're going to walk in front of me all the way, and if you leave the trail, or don't make good time, you're going to be shot. Pearson, you'll remain here with Holland. When Miss Rancour awakes, give her one of those powders I left on the table. Hurry, Pierre! We'll see if a man can be left alone to die like a dog when there is help five miles away!” ”

“ Small went back to the table and closed his medicine-case and drew on his gloves. They gave him scant attention, for they were watching the girl. Her moaning had ceased, and she was falling asleep. They turned only when Small spoke.
“If you did get there, you couldn't do anything,” he said. “Pearson, you and Holland are strong men, but strong men can not mend broken bones unless they know how. I know how. Pierre, get on your things!”
“You can not go,” said the guide, “an' I will not!” ”

“ For years old Pierre had acted as guide in the Summer, saving his money until he became the owner of a cabin that approached magnificence, and in which he could care for many persons, yet always bewailing the fact that for the greater part of the year there was no business except the traps and the little money they might bring in. ”

“ Now, Pierre, suppose we go over to the Rancour cabin. You know the way, and I do not. We'll help out this chap that's gone and got himself smashed, and after that you can go right ahead as you were before—ignoring him. If it is revenge you're after, you couldn't have a better one—making him realize that he owes his life to you.”
Pierre pondered for a moment, his head still upon his hands, and Sylvester Small waited hopefully. Finally the guide stood up and walked to the table for more brandy. ”

“ Pierre was afraid Sylvester Small would pack up his things after the storm and leave the camp, and Pierre wanted the money Small's presence there meant for him.
“Thees blizzard,” he said, “es no fun, although et seem lak et to some. Et es no time for a man to be out. A strong man slip an' fall on ze ice an' no get up. There heem die. Et es no fun!”
There was partial silence for a time then. Small read his book. Pierre poked at the fire. Pearson and Holland talked in low tones of victories on athletic fields, of football and baseball and polo.
The wind shook the cabin walls. ”

“ Pierre sat before the fire drying himself and turning Small's clothes over now and then and spreading them out anew. Small went into the tiny rear room of the cabin and found a cracker box. He made splints of it. Then he gave Rancour an injection of morphine.
At times Small could scarcely keep from falling. He felt weak, felt that he wanted to throw himself in a bunk and go to sleep. But always he nerved himself to go on with his work.
He was very slow, however, and Pierre would not help. Small set the leg and arm and bound the splints on them. ”

“ He had left them severely alone. His attitude was that of a man who feels a little pity for other men who think they are demonstrating strength when they are but showing their weaknesses.
They taunted Small because he dropped behind on those rare occasions when he went on a tramp with them. They laughed when he was unable to get a buck across his shoulders and carry it to the camp. They made sport of his short stride and his pale, student's countenance, and his eye-glasses ”

“ Pierre, we must do something,” Holland said. “If this young woman could make it through the storm, surely we men can. Let's get started.”
“No!” said the guide. “You may go, m'sieu, an' your friends. I stay here!”
“Afraid of the storm, you coward?” demanded Pearson.
Pierre's laugh was horrible as he whirled around and faced them.
“Afraid—me?” he exclaimed. “I will start now, an' walk to ze town—twenty mile—if you t'ink me afraid. But I do not go to ze cabin of Jacques Rancour!”
“But why, man, why?” gasped Pearson. “If he's in danger—liable to die?” ”

“ I know doctors who'd nurse back to health a man they'd like to shoot like a cur. I know one who operated on a man and saved him, then fought a duel and killed the man he had saved. It's the idea of letting a human being die without trying to help save him. ”

“ AN HOUR after daylight Pearson and Holland came, bringing Mary Rancour with them on a sled. They found Pierre sitting beside the bunk, holding the hand of the sleeping Jacques Rancour, and they found Sylvester Small sleeping in the other bunk, a smile upon his face, as if he were conscious of work well done.
“One t'ing,” said Pierre, after explanations. “Zat Mistaire Small ees a ver' beeg man—not a small man at all. An' any man as would be frien' of mine will do well to remember zat t'ing!” ”

“ He helped Small to his feet.
“Keep the fire hot,” the little man gasped.
He staggered to the fire and stood before it for a moment, then, working rapidly, he stripped off the remainder of his wet clothes, spreading them on the floor before the fire, and telling Pierre to do the same. He opened the medicine-case, looked at the contents, took out a roll of bandage cloth and a vial or two. Then he went to the bunk where Jacques Rancour was tossing and moaning.
“Help me get his clothes off, Pierre,” he ordered.
“I do not'ing, m'sieu. I haf guide you here because you make me. ”

“ But not in ze dark night an' a blizzard. You get lost and freeze. I not let you go.”
“Be a man, then, and go with me—show me the way. Take me there and then come back, if you're not man enough to stay. You're a guide, aren't you? Then guide me to Rancour's cabin—I'll pay you extra!”
“Anyt'ing but zat. To ze town ef you are fool enough to try et, but not to ze Rancour cabin.”
Small wrapped a heavy muffler around his head and face, and went across the room for his gloves and medicine-case.
“An' I not let you go alone,” added Pierre, walking toward the door. “I am responsible—me. ”