Roy Norton

“ God knows there are but few of us who do not sorrow for the old, dead things, and seek hope in the new.
In the starlit morning of the allotted day we bade farewell to the Great House. A half dozen dog teams strained and yelped, eager for the adventure of the trail. Silent, heavy, aloof, the shaman stood outside waiting for us to declare our readiness. Malitka came last, as if she had wished to be alone in the rooms wherein so many years of her life had found security. ”

“ Our running feet beside or behind the sleds stirred our blood.
At the entrance to the defile, bordered by the white gates, I looked backward. There lay the village, the solemn, forest-clad hills behind, the white peaks dimly upreared against the stars of the morning sky and, last view of all, the somber shape of the Great House, with its windows alight with morning lamps, but obscured as if by parting tears.
A crowd of natives ran with us until the shaman ordered them back. The sleds streamed through the natural gateway and swerved in an abrupt turn. ”

“ And there, for many days, he would sit, quiet, brooding, sometimes silent for long intervals in which his eyes regarded Malitka with warmth and Jack with appraisement. He seemed absorbed in consideration of the possibilities of their future. Once when both were absent he said to me in his rolling Russian, “Your friend is a fine young man; but neither he nor any other could possibly be worthy of the Lady Malitka.” ”