has no power beyond. The ripening purpose of the Great
Creator thrusts her back upon herself, beaten, desolate.

The elemental in Kars was still a great living force. That could never
change. Just now it was submerging in an ocean of new emotion he was
powerless to deny. The strength of his manhood was undiminished. It
was even greater for the revolution sweeping his estate. Just as the
passionate fire of his elemental nature had swept him all his years, so
now the claims of human love coursed through the strong life channels
which knew no half measure. Now he yearned for the gentler dream, even
as he had yearned for all that which can be claimed by strength alone.

His whole being was centred upon the goal towards which he was
speeding. His light outfit was being driven by the speed of his desire.

So Bell River was far behind. All the wide wastes of forest and hill,
of canyon and tundra, of glacier and torrent, had passed under his
feet. Now the swift waters of Snake River were speeding under driven
paddles. Another day and he would gaze once more into the sweet eyes
which meant for him the haven his soul so ardently craved.

Bill Brudenell, too, had shaken himself free. The nauseating breath of
Bell River had driven him before it. He, too, had loved the North.
Perhaps he still loved his mistress, but he cursed her, too, and cursed
her beyond forgiveness or recall. His eyes were turned to the west,
like the eyes of his friend. But the only voice summoning him was the
voice of a spirit wearied with the contemplation of men's evil. This
was the final journey for him, and the long nights of the trail were
spent in a pleasant dreaming of sunlit groves, of warming climes.

The faithful Charley was untouched by any gentler emotion. His crude
mind was beyond such. He was satisfied that his boss had given the
order to "mush." It mattered nothing to him if the journey ended at
the Pole. Perhaps he regretted the Indians left behind him alive. But
even so, there were compensations. Had he not a prisoner, a white man
under his charge? And had his boss not assured him that that prisoner
would hang by the neck at his journey's end? Yes, that was so. It
seemed almost a matter for regret to his unsophisticated understanding
that the hanging could not be done on the trail. That the joy of
performing the operation might not be his own reward for faithful
service. Still, his boss had spoken. It was suffic