Connie Morgan

“ Late that evening, clad once more in his woodsman's garb, Connie Morgan sat upon the plush cushion of a railway coach, with his new leather suitcase at his feet, and smiled at the friendly twinkling lights of the farm-houses, as his train rushed northward into the night. ”

“ There was finality in the man's tone, and one swift glance into the faces of the others told the boy that they were of the same mind, to a man. For the first time in his life, Connie Morgan [81] faced the opposition of men. Instinctively he knew that every man in the room was his friend, but never in his life had he felt so helplessly alone. What could one small boy do in the face of the ultimatum of these men of the North? Tears rushed to his eyes and, for a moment, threatened to overflow upon his cheeks, but, in that moment, there arose before him the face of Waseche Bill—his "pardner." ”

“ But of all the tillicums in the land of the peaks and passes, only two know that the trail of the great nugget is ended. For Special Constable Connie Morgan of the Royal North-west Mounted Police prefers to speak of other things. And Ick Far, the leathern-faced, the imperturbable, speaks nothing at all, but sits in sphinx-like silence with his eyes fixed upon far things—thinking his own thoughts. ”

“ Connie Morgan?"
'Merican Joe nodded vehemently. "Yes, him Connie Mo'gan! Him wan skookum tillicum."
The big inspector's fist smote the counter and he grinned happily. "I'll say he's skookum tillicum!" he cried. "But what in the name of Pat Feeney is he doin' over here? I heard he'd gone outside."
"D'ye know him?" asked McTavish, in surprise.
"Know him! Know him, did you say? I do know him, an' love him! An' I'd rather see him than the Angel Gabriel, this minute!"
"Me, too," laughed McTavish, "I ain't ready for the angels, yet!"
"Angels, or no angels, there's a kid that's a man! ”

“ She paused and Connie cleared his throat.
"Yes'm—I mean no*m. We aren't him," he floundered; "I'm Connie Morgan of the Mounted and this is Ick Far, and we're your friends. But suppose you begin somewhere. Who is this man? And why are you hiding from him? And who was the drowned man? And what made you come up out of the water and scare the Indians?"
"It was this way, " began the woman, speaking in nervous haste, so that her words came in short, jerky sentences. "It all began with that," she pointed to the packet that lay upon the rock between them. ”

“ It ain't over is it?"
"The grill is open from eight in the morning until midnight," explained the man, and as Connie turned away, he called after him: "Oh, Mr. Morgan——"
"Connie Morgan," corrected the boy gravely.
"Well, Connie, then—you are not to pay your checks, just sign them and the waiter will take care of them."
"That suits me," smiled Connie, and as he crossed the tiled floor he muttered: "If they hadn't wasted so much space making the office and rooms so big, they wouldn't have to eat in the cellar. In Fairbanks or Skagway they'd have made four rooms out of that one of mine." ”

“ After breakfast, Connie sauntered down and examined the sluice box. "I thought so," he muttered. "He is no prospector. This is just a blind—and a blamed clumsy one. He couldn't sluice a dump through that thing in a hundred years. There's no cache here, though. I guess I'll be on my way."
He returned to the cabin, thanked the woman for her hospitality, said good-bye to the children, who protested loud and lustily at thus losing their play-fellow, and started down the creek in the direction from which he had come. ”

“ As Connie ate his lunch he puzzled mightily over Hurley. He had journeyed from far off Alaska for the purpose of bringing to justice a man who had swindled him and his partner out of thousands of dollars worth of timber. His experience with the Mounted had taught him that, with the possible exception of Notorious Bishop whose consummate nerve had commanded the respect even of the officers whose business it was to hunt him down, law-breakers were men who possessed few if any admirable qualities. Yet here was a man who, Connie was forced to admit, possessed many such qualities. ”

“ Connie Morgan, for all his tender years, knew men. He knew, when he left the group about the stove, that they would expect him to try to slip out of Eagle, and that if he waited until morning he would have no chance in the world of eluding their vigilance. Minutes counted, for he also knew that once on the trail, he need have no [83] fear of pursuit; for no team in the Yukon country, save only Dutch Henry's Hudson Bays, could come anywhere near the trail record of McDougall's ten gaunt malamutes. ”

“ There was a swift movement within, and the voice of High Light rang loud:
"Don't shoot a kid, Bill! Duck kid!" And at the same instant, Connie heard the futile snap of a hammer descending upon a firing-pin, and, with the bellow of a wild beast, Bill Cosgrieve slammed the rifle onto the floor and reached for another—and another—and another—all the time yelling, and all but frothing with an insane rage, from the noise of which, Connie caught fragments of sentences: "Double-crossed—Imp o' Satan—stole them shells—trapped like a rat!" ”

“ Upon the edge of it he halted to examine the spruce thickets along its western side, for signs of the trail of Squigg, and it was while so engaged that he looked up to see dimly in the white smother the form of the man and his dog-team. The man halted suddenly and seemed to be staring at him. Connie stood motionless in his tracks, waiting. For a long time the man stood peering through the flying snow, then the boy saw his arm raise, heard the crack of his whiplash, and then the sound of his voice—high-pitched and unnatural it sounded coming out of the whirling gloom: "Hi yu, there! ”

“ The man nodded and with his lips close to the boy's ear whispered: "Wan man you know—mebbe-so she gone kultus."
"A man I know gone kultus!" exclaimed Connie. "What do you mean? Who is he?" But the other only shrugged, and shifting his pack, stepped into the trail and swung off toward Dawson.
"Now what in thunder does that breed mean?" soliloquized the boy as the dogs strung out onto the trail. "One of those poachers is Brek Wiley all right, he's an old hand at the game and a mighty slippery customer—Big Dan McKeever has tried for years to catch him with the goods. ”

“ If a fellow funks once it would always be easy to do it again, but if he kind of—kind of cleans up as he goes, he can keep on believing in himself. I'd rather go in and not come out than not go in at all!"
And Connie did go in, and a few minutes later he came out again, and with him came a woman who laughed and sobbed hysterically as she clutched tightly to her breast a packet wrapped in a piece of smoke-tanned buckskin. The woman sank down upon the rock and it was some moments before Connie's awkward efforts to quiet her met with any response. ”

“ Faintly upon the air, seemingly from miles away, came the call of a human voice. Leloo heard it too, and with ears stiffly erect stood looking far out over the ridges. Raising his rifle, Connie fired into the air, and almost immediately the sound of the shot was answered by the faint call for help.
"That's funny," cried the boy. "Sound don't travel very fast. How could he possibly have answered as soon as that?"
Placing his hands to his mouth, 'Merican Joe launched a yell that seemed fairly to tear through the spaces, echoing and re-echoing across, the valley. ”

“ And the men who win through the unseen death never recount their story with a laugh. These men are silent. Or, if they speak at all, it is in low, tense tones, with [285] clenched fists, and many pauses between the words, and into their eyes creeps the look of unveiled horror.
Connie Morgan, Waseche Bill, and O'Brien laboriously worked the outfit down the steep trail that led from the divide to the snow-buried surface of the Kandik. The distance, in an air line, was possibly three miles—by the steep and winding caribou trail it was ten. ”

“ Connie grinned into his face. "You ain't arrested," he answered. "You can go wherever you please. I'm going down to the cabin." The boy worked his dogs through the scrub and heading them for the open, threw himself on the sled.
"But, hey!" called the man. "How ye goin' to—" Without so much as turning his head, Connie cracked the whip above the ears of his dogs, and the six great malamutes tore over the surface of the snow that sloped gently away from the rim of the huge bowl. ”

“ I charge you with running liquor to the Indians."
"You'll take me where they are?" asked the "prospector." Connie nodded.
"Look-a here! What in thunder's th' meanin' o' this? What's th' game?" The other man was staring from Connie to the "propector" in bewilderment.
"You shut up!" commanded Dubro. "Another word out of you, and you'll wish you hadn't said it! You heard what the kid said, didn't you? Well, he talked like he meant it—the Mounted generally does." Then, turning to Connie, he added: "We're ready."
The boy pointed down the trail. "Hike!" he
"Back up, there!" ”

“ Connie laughed: "Yes, I've got enough for the stake, all right. But I'm not so keen for the trading outfit. We can take along some traps, though, and if there isn't any gold—we'll take out some fur. And, you'll sure go with me? When can you start?"
The Indian glanced out of the low door. "It daylight—le's go."
"But, how about the Kuskokwim?"
'Merican Joe shrugged. "Kuskokwim kin wait. She ain' no good. Me—I'm stay 'long wit' you. You pay me wages w'at you want. I good man—me. You wait—I show you. You good man, too. I seen plent' good man—plent' bad man—I know—me." ”

“ The boy's voice sounded strangely toneless and flat, and when he finished speaking he coughed. 'Merican Joe's hands had dropped to his side and he stood dumbly watching as Connie loosened the heavy woollen muffler from his waist and wound it about the lower half of his face. "Cover your mouth and don't talk," the boy commanded. "Breathe through your muffler. We can still travel, but it will be hard. We will be very tired but we must find shelter—a cave—a cabin—a patch of timber—or tonight we will freeze—Look! Look!" he cried suddenly, pointing to the northward, "a mirage!" ”

“ The next morning the camp was early astir and after breakfast while Connie was rolling his blankets, Notorious Bishop filled his pipe. "D'you say, Constable, that the last boat leaves for Alaska on the fifteenth?"
"Yes," answered the boy. "That's when she's due to leave. She always gets away by the seventeenth."
The man removed his Stetson, and thoughtfully scratched his head as his gaze travelled up and down the river. "Seems like a man can't do no good here," he mused. "You say you got room in your canoe?"
"Sure," answered Connie, "that is, if you don't pack too big an outfit." ”

“ Connie laughed: "Of course he did, and that's the best evidence he's got. And if he hadn't done his share of the killing he'd never have got any evidence on you. And you fell for the 'deserter' game like any chechaka! Dan McKeever could never have worked that—you know him too well. But Shorty did, and you grabbed the bait like a hungry salmon." The boy shot a glance toward Peters who was studying the floor intently, and continued with scarcely a pause. "If you had been really smart, Wiley, you would have known that no man in his right senses would desert the Service and throw in with you. ”

“ Being ignorant of the positions of the men, he did not dare punch the moss inward. As the chinking thinned, the voices became more distinct, and at length the boy placed his eye to a tiny hole through which filtered a single ray of candlelight. There were two men in the room—one he could not see, the other was a shaggy man who sat beside the stove and smoked a pipe. The man out of line was speaking and Connie applied his ear to the crevice. ”

“ To this Connie reluctantly consented, but it would only stave off the inevitable for one day.
"They'll try to starve us out," Connie said. "We've got to get word to Mayo—Dan McKeever's there, and Rickey."
"Me go!" cried Ick Far. "Me ketch um help. Seex sleeps, an' dem Moosehead, she weesh she stay on de black montaine."
"We c'n hold out six days—eight, on a pinch—can't we, kid?" said Tex Gordon, as he reached over and shook the scout's hand in a mighty grip. "Y'u're a man! ”

“ It was with difficulty Connie refrained from asking what had happened last winter but he was afraid of arousing the man's suspicion by becoming too inquisitive, so he frowned: "That's all right as far as your getting even with Hurley, but it don't get me anything."
[111]
Slue Foot leaned forward in his chair: "I see you've got yer eye on the main chanct, an' that shows you've got somethin' in your noodle. Folks can talk all they want to, but the only thing that's any good is money. Them that's got it is all right, an' them that hain't got it is nowhere. ”

“ You can’t stay alone in the shape you’re in. Suppose——”
“All right, kid,” grinned McKeever, “we’ll split the difference. You stay with me, an’ Ick can go on with the points. He’ll get ’em there quicker’n what you would; an’ then him an’ Rickey can pick us up on the way out.”
Connie shook his head: “Now, listen, Dan. It’s like this: your leg is broken—and broken bad. The quicker you get to a doctor, the better. Ick knows the river and he can get you to McQuesten in two days, and down the Stewart in two more. What would happen if I tried to take a canoe down through those rapids? ”

“ I'm just telling you where you'll find some grub caches if you happen to be going that way."
"We can't make no fifteen mile a day. Not with no deck cargo o' dead dogs."
"Then you won't eat so often," answered Connie. "So long! I must be going."
It was long after dark the next night when Connie pushed open the door of the Hart River cabin. Rickey lay on the bunk and stared in surprise as the boy unloaded the missing supplies.
"Where's the rest of your dogs?" he asked. ”